Chapter 5 House of Secrets

The delivery van crept through winding forest roads, tires crunching damp gravel, headlights slicing through the fog that hung low like a living veil. Gnarled trees leaned over the path, their black limbs clawing the sky. Adrian hadn't been back here in three years-not since his father's stroke. The house stood at the edge of the Catskill woods, a stone-faced colonial choked in ivy, weathered but still stubbornly proud.

Marcus parked near the edge of the overgrown driveway, the engine humming a final breath before cutting out.

"We hike the rest of the way," he said. "No sense announcing ourselves."

Adrian stared through the windshield at the looming silhouette of the house. "I never thought I'd come back here under gunfire."

Vivian pulled her coat tighter. "You're not coming back to remember. You're coming back to recover what could end Wolfe."

Adrian adjusted the duffel strap on his shoulder. "It's in the attic. Behind the water tank. Nobody ever goes up there."

Vivian studied him. "Then let's hope nobody has."

They moved as a unit, crossing the wet grass in a crouch. The porch groaned beneath their boots. The front door creaked open-Adrian's father never fixed the hinge.

Inside, the air was thick with mothballs and the ghost of old tobacco. The hallway wallpaper peeled in long curls, like parchment forgetting its glue. Pictures lined the corridor-Adrian as a child, his mother in a sunhat, his father's Navy portrait. A different life.

"No lights," Marcus warned. "We're exposed enough."

Adrian led them past the kitchen, past the silent grandfather clock. He paused at the stairwell. His eyes tracked the shadows.

"My father sleeps heavy," he whispered. "If he's still here."

"Let's keep it that way," Vivian replied.

They climbed the stairs.

Each creak was a scream.

At the attic door, Adrian pulled the string to lower the ladder. Dust fluttered in the beam of Marcus's flashlight. The narrow stair unfolded with a groan. Adrian climbed first.

The attic smelled of dry wood and forgotten years. Boxes stacked like ruins. An old telescope. Canvas paintings in cobwebs.

He moved straight to the far wall. Behind the water tank. Cold air seeped through the gaps in the roof shingles.

"There," he said, pulling free a wrapped parcel. Yellowed manila. Bound in cord.

Vivian took it, fingers shaking.

Adrian turned to go-then froze.

Downstairs, the floorboards creaked. Not from wind. Not from age.

Footsteps.

Vivian met his eyes.

"They're here," Marcus whispered.

Below, shadows passed behind the living room window. The reflection of a black SUV in the front glass confirmed it.

Adrian whispered, "How did they find us so fast?"

Vivian unwrapped the manuscript with one hand while reaching for her pistol with the other. "They're not chasing. They're tracking. Wolfe isn't looking for the book. He's looking for you."

Marcus drew his weapon. "Two outside. One's breaching the kitchen window."

Adrian felt the old floorboards tremble under his boots. The attic was a tomb waiting to be cracked open.

Vivian loaded her pistol silently. "We don't wait for them to come up. We split them."

Marcus pointed to the trapdoor. "I'll take the first floor. Draw them into the hallway. When I give the signal, drop down and flank."

Vivian handed Adrian the manuscript. "Whatever happens, don't lose this. If we die here, that book still has to burn Wolfe's empire."

Adrian took it with both hands, swallowing. "You think I can outrun a hit squad with a bundle of paper?"

Vivian smirked. "You're a writer. Improvise."

Marcus vanished through the trapdoor like a ghost. A thud followed. Then shouting.

A gunshot cracked the silence.

Vivian and Adrian dropped low. Dust leapt from the floorboards.

From below came Marcus's voice. "Now!"

Vivian dropped first, rolling behind the stair column. Adrian followed, landing with a grunt. He crawled toward the hallway, keeping the manuscript tucked beneath his coat.

Two men in tactical gear moved through the foyer. One aimed toward Marcus's position. The other scanned the shadows.

Vivian fired once-clean and sharp.

The man crumpled.

The second spun, firing wildly. Plaster exploded from the banister. Adrian ducked into the coat closet.

Marcus reappeared, flanking from the dining room, emptying three shots into the attacker's chest.

Silence.

Adrian stepped out, pulse roaring in his ears. "That all of them?"

Vivian shook her head. "We got two. Which means at least one more."

Glass shattered in the kitchen.

"Back door," Marcus snapped.

Vivian grabbed Adrian's wrist and yanked him toward the garage. "My father kept a dirt bike in there. If it still runs, we can cut through the fire road behind the hill."

The garage was musty, filled with rusting tools and lawn chairs. The bike leaned against the wall, half-covered in a tarp.

Adrian ran to it. "Tires look full. Gas?"

Vivian checked the gauge. "Quarter tank. Enough."

A shadow filled the doorframe behind them.

The final man. Tall. Clean-shaven. Not a grunt-an elite.

His voice was calm. "Step away from the manuscript."

Vivian raised her pistol.

The man held a detonator. His thumb hovered over the trigger. "You shoot, we all burn. Your van was rigged. Your decoder? Bugged. Wolfe never lost sight of you."

Adrian stepped forward. "Then why follow us here?"

The man smiled. "Because we needed you to lead us. You've done that beautifully."

Marcus appeared behind the attacker and fired.

The bullet hit the man in the arm. He dropped the detonator.

Vivian kicked it away. She fired once. The man dropped, clutching his shoulder.

Marcus growled, "Time's up."

The dirt bike coughed to life, then roared.

Adrian clung to Vivian as they tore down the muddy trail behind the property. Tree limbs clawed at them. Rocks kicked up like shrapnel.

Behind them, Marcus sped away in the delivery van-drawing attention.

Vivian shouted over the wind, "We head for the train depot in Elmridge. There's a contact waiting with access to Wolfe's private server. Once we upload the final code, it's over."

Adrian tightened his grip around her waist. "And if we don't make it?"

Vivian leaned forward. "Then we make sure Wolfe never forgets us."

They hit the clearing just as red lights pierced the tree line behind them. Two drones buzzed into view, engines shrieking.

Vivian pushed the throttle.

The bike surged forward.

The train depot rose ahead-abandoned, cracked and covered in ivy. But a freight engine idled on the tracks.

A figure stood on the platform-long coat, briefcase in hand.

Adrian's voice was ragged. "That the contact?"

Vivian nodded. "He better be."

The bike skidded to a halt at the platform steps.

The man turned-dark skin, thick glasses, eyes like iron.

"I'm Dev," he said. "Let's bring down your monster."