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"Breaststroke, backstroke, dog paddle—I would've made it work," Finn said. His gaze lingered on Amelia. She smiled, and he wondered what she truly thought of him.
"Whatever stroke you fancy, mate," Rob remarked, a grin spreading across his face. "I'm just glad you both are here, relatively dry and in one piece."
Amid the metallic tang of oil and rust, Rob leaned against the bonnet of a police car, his arms folded as he surveyed the scene. "We'll dig into our friend's history," he said, nodding toward the departing vehicle that held the subdued killer. "Preliminary intel suggests we're dealing with an antique smuggling ring."
"Antiques? You mean Arron Reinhardt?" Amelia raised an eyebrow and a grin. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, the gravel beneath her boots crunching in quiet protest.
Finn laughed. “We're way ahead of you, Rob.”
"Any chance this ties back to Vilne, though?" Amelia asked. “Finn thinks the gun is suspect.”
"I could see him providing the gun and pushing the Historian to do what he did, but I have no proof yet. I hate that he's still out there," Finn said. "None of us are safe until he's behind bars."
"There's nothing solid yet." Rob's eyes met Amelia's with a steady resolve. "If there's a link, we'll find it. His face has been plastered across the news by now, so hopefully we'll have a lead soon."
The conversation paused as a constable rushed past, a blur of hi-vis against the backdrop of the junkyard's decrepitude. Finn looked up, catching Amelia's gaze. She offered him another smile, but then averted her gaze like a teenager.
There was an awkward silence, which Rob seemed aware of and in need to fill. “We're turning over every stone, Finn, so it won't be long until we catch Vilne.”
"Turning over every stone, huh?" Finn leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "I should warn you, I've been known to cause a landslide now and then."
"Is that so?" Amelia crossed her arms, a playful glint in her eye. "Well, just try not to bury us all under it like you did with your driving."
"My driving was fine, it's these British cars," Finn replied, his voice light despite the gravity of their situation. “But I'll be on my best behavior from now on.”
"Good, because I don't fancy digging myself out of another one of your messes," Rob interjected, his wry smile returning. "Especially if it involves paperwork."
"Paperwork," Finn scoffed. "Now that's the real crime here."
"Agreed," Amelia chuckled, the sound mingling with the distant chatter of constables and the occasional clatter of equipment being moved.
The evening air was sharp with the tang of metal and oil as the night sky began to cloud over, high above the skeletal remains of discarded vehicles. Finn's breath formed fleeting clouds themselves, dissipating into the darkness. He traced patterns on the woolen blanket draped over his shoulders, a half-hearted attempt to distract himself from the gnawing uncertainty that clawed at his insides.
"Chief!" A constable’s voice cut through the murmur of conversation, urgent and tinged with an unmistakable edge of alarm. The young officer's boots crunched over gravel as he navigated between the police cars, making a beeline for Rob.
Rob turned, his expression tightening as he took in the constable's pale face. "What is it?"
"It's your friend, Demi," the constable panted, chest heaving from exertion. "She's... she's gone, sir."
Finn's head snapped up, his pulse thundering in his ears as he pushed off the ambulance, the blanket slipping unnoticed from his shoulders. "Gone? What do you mean, gone?" The question was a growl, the words laced with a cold dread that settled heavy in his stomach.
"Both guards down," the constable continued, struggling to regain his breath. "Knocked out by gas. When they came to... she was just... vanished."
"Gas?" Amelia echoed, her brow furrowing in concentration. "That doesn't sound like amateur work."
"Nothing about this is amateur," Finn muttered, the gears in his mind whirring with frantic energy. He knew the ugliness that lurked in the shadows of Max Vilne's mind, the lengths to which the man would go for his perverse sense of vengeance. He still had deep feelings for Demi and always would, and to think of her at the mercy of his touch made Finn feel sick.
Standing, Finn towered over the huddle, his figure rigid with resolve. "We n
PROLOGUE
Lily's footsteps echoed in the vast entryway of the castle, the once grandiose space now a chaotic mix of vibrant and clashing colors. The ancient tapestries that once adorned the walls had in recent times been replaced with modern art pieces, the sharp angles and vivid hues making Lily uncomfortable. Since she had moved there, the history of the place was in the process of renovation, of being wiped from existence and replaced with eccentric designs her husband loved.
As she walked on the stone and marble floors, Lily could see fragments of the moonlight from the night sky catching the scaffolding, a monstrosity of its own, which climbed up the walls outside, casting long black shadows like fingers on the floor of the quiet castle.
As she wandered deeper into the castle's labyrinth of halls, rooms, and corridors, an eerie humming sound caught her attention. It seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once, sending a shiver down her spine. It was a noise she was not used to, certainly not at that time of night. She strained her ears, trying to pinpoint its origin. Was it the wind creeping through an open space due to all of the renovations? Machinery left on by accident by the workers, long since gone home for the night? It crossed Lily's mind that it seemed more malevolent than that.
"Thomas?" she called out, hoping her husband might be nearby. But her voice only echoed back at her, lost in the maze of rooms and hallways. A home she barely knew since their move from America, but one she felt did not appreciate her presence.
