Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4 — The Shadow of the Stepmother
They ran through the darkness, the only guide being the bobbing circle of Matthew’s flashlight against the ancient brick walls.
Behind them, the sounds of pursuit were growing louder, the echoes multiplying in the narrow tunnels until it sounded like an army.
Elena’s chest burned with the effort, her legs heavy, but the fear of what lay behind her pushed her forward with desperate energy.
Matthew stopped suddenly, shoving her into a shallow alcove behind a massive iron pipe that ran along the ceiling of the passage.
— Down, he whispered, pressing his body against hers to shield her as the beam of another flashlight swept past their corridor.
She could hear the men talking, their voices distorted by the brick walls, speaking in short, professional bursts of military jargon.
— They’re not Isabel’s personal security, Elena whispered, her face inches from Matthew’s shoulder, smelling the scent of rain and iron.
— No, Matthew murmured, his hand resting on the grip of a compact pistol he had pulled from his waistband.
— Those are Helios contractors. They don't care about collateral damage. They just need you alive and capable of holding a pen.
The flashlight beam swept over their alcove, lingering for a terrifying second on the rusted pipe just inches above Elena’s head.
She held her breath, her heart hammering so hard against her ribs she was certain the men would hear it over the dripping water.
After an agonizing silence, the light moved on, and the sound of heavy footsteps began to fade down a diverging tunnel to the left.
Matthew waited another full minute before letting out a slow, silent breath and stepping out of the alcove.
— We have to move. The exit to the old shipyard is just ahead, but we’ll be exposed once we hit the surface.
They climbed the remaining stairs, emerging through a heavy iron grate into the ruins of an old coal-loading facility by the river.
The storm had escalated into a full gale, the wind whipping the rain into stinging needles that lashed against Elena’s face.
Across the dark water, the lights of the city gleamed like distant, untouchable jewels, reminding her of the life she had just lost.
A phone began to vibrate, the sound sharp and alien in the wet darkness of the shipyard.
It was the burner phone in Matthew’s pocket.
He pulled it out, looking at the screen with a grim expression before sliding the receiver open and holding it to his ear.
He didn't speak. He just listened.
After a moment, he clicked the speakerphone, and a voice drifted out, thin and chillingly familiar over the sound of the wind.
— Elena? darling? I know you’re there with Matthew, Isabel’s voice purred, completely devoid of the warmth she used to fake.
— Stop playing these childish games. You have something that belongs to me, and you’re running out of places to hide it.
Elena took the phone from Matthew’s hand, her voice steadying as the anger washed away the last traces of her fear.
— You killed him, Isabel. You killed my father for a patent.
A cold, dry laugh came through the small speaker, cutting through the storm.
— Arthur was a fool who thought he could change the world with his little ideas, Elena.
— But the world doesn't want to be changed. It wants to be owned.
— You have until tomorrow night to sign the documents. If you don't, I’ll make sure Matthew’s little empire is burned to the ground.
May you like
— And you’ll join your father in a grave that nobody will ever visit.
The line went dead, leaving only the sound of the wind howling through the rusted superstructure of the shipyard.
