Chapter 3: The Night The Truth Came Hunting
The door handle moved.
Slowly.
Almost politely.
That was what scared me the most.
Men who came to kill didn't usually knock.
They kicked doors open.
They shouted.
They announced themselves like they wanted the world to remember their names.
But whoever stood outside that abandoned building had confidence.
They believed they already owned the ending.
I tightened my grip on the gun beneath my coat.
Across the room, Adrian reached for Beatrice.
Not to protect himself.
To move her behind him.
That small gesture told me everything.
After twelve years hiding from the world, after living like a ghost in a forgotten building, Adrian still placed someone else between danger and himself.
That was the brother I remembered.
Not the traitor my family told me he became.
Not the man whose name was spoken only in whispers.
My brother.
"How many?"" I whispered.
Beatrice looked toward the window.
"At least four cars.""
Adrian shook his head.
"More.""
I glanced at him.
"How would you know?""
His expression hardened.
"Because Lorenzo never sent four cars.""
The door handle stopped moving.
Silence filled the room.
Then a voice came from the other side.
"Lorenzo Vale sends his regards.""
My blood ran cold.
The voice was unfamiliar.
But the words weren't.
They weren't here to search.
They were here to make a statement.
I looked at Adrian.
His face had gone pale.
"That wasn't Lorenzo," he whispered.
"No.""
"That's worse.""
I raised an eyebrow.
"Worse?""
Adrian nodded.
"Lorenzo likes people to know when he's involved.""
The footsteps outside moved closer.
"This person doesn't want credit.""
A quiet click came from the other side of the door.
A lock being tested.
I moved toward the side entrance.
"There's another way out?""
Beatrice nodded quickly.
"Through the kitchen.""
"Go.""
She looked at me.
"What about you?""
I almost laughed.
A year ago, I would have told her she had no right to question me.
Tonight, after discovering my dead brother was alive and my closest ally might have destroyed my family, I didn't have the energy for pride.
"Go," I repeated.
Adrian grabbed my arm.
"No.""
I looked at him.
"You don't give orders anymore.""
His grip tightened.
"Listen to me.""
The anger in his voice stopped me.
Because Adrian rarely sounded afraid.
"This isn't about escaping.""
"Then what is it?""
"It's about who they expect to find.""
I frowned.
"What?""
"If they believe I'm here, they came prepared for me.""
He looked toward the door.
"But if they find you...""
His words faded.
I understood.
They weren't hunting Adrian anymore.
They were hunting me.
A loud crash shook the building.
The front door splintered.
Beatrice gasped.
I pushed her toward the kitchen.
"Move.""
We ran.
The abandoned building was darker than it looked from outside. Broken furniture blocked the narrow hallway. Dust filled the air. Every step echoed.
Behind us, men entered.
"Check every room!""
The voice carried through the walls.
Professional.
Calm.
Not street criminals.
Trained.
I hated how familiar that sounded.
My world was filled with men like that.
Men who followed orders without asking why.
We reached the kitchen.
The back door was frozen shut.
Beatrice pulled at the handle.
"It's stuck.""
I stepped forward and kicked it.
Nothing.
Again.
The wood cracked.
Again.
The door opened.
Cold air rushed inside.
"Go," I said.
Beatrice grabbed Adrian's arm.
But Adrian didn't move.
He was staring at me.
"What?""
He shook his head.
"I never thought I'd see you again.""
I looked away.
"Don't make this sentimental.""
A small smile appeared on his face.
"Still stubborn.""
"Still annoying.""
For one second, twelve years disappeared.
For one second, we were brothers again.
Then a gunshot shattered the moment.
The bullet struck the wall inches from my head.
I pulled my weapon.
The hallway filled with movement.
"Run!""
We escaped into the alley as bullets tore through the broken windows behind us.
Snow exploded around our feet.
The three of us moved through the darkness, running without direction.
My expensive shoes sank into the snow.
My coat was soaked.
My mind was drowning.
But my body knew what to do.
Survive.
That was what I had been trained for.
We turned through two streets before stopping behind an old warehouse.
Beatrice was breathing heavily.
Adrian leaned against the wall.
I noticed the pain on his face.
"You've been injured.""
He looked down.
A bullet had grazed his shoulder.
"I'm fine.""
"You've always been terrible at lying.""
A strange expression crossed his face.
"You remember that?""
I looked at him.
"I remember everything.""
And that was the problem.
I remembered my brother teaching me how to fight.
I remembered him sneaking into my room after nightmares.
I remembered him standing between me and our father when I was sixteen and made a mistake that could have gotten me killed.
Adrian had always protected me.
Until the night he disappeared.
I turned toward him.
"Tell me everything.""
He looked exhausted.
"Not here.""
I almost lost my patience.
"You've said that twice.""
"Because twice it's been true.""
I stepped closer.
"Do you understand what just happened?""
He nodded.
"My entire life was built on a lie.""
His eyes met mine.
"Yes.""
"And you expect me to calmly wait?""
"No.""
His answer surprised me.
"I expect you to be angry.""
The honesty stopped me.
"I expect you to hate me.""
I said nothing.
"Because if I were you, I would.""
The snow fell between us.
Then Beatrice spoke.
"He didn't leave because he wanted to.""
I looked at her.
"You don't know that.""
"I do.""
Her voice was steady.
"Because I found him after they tried to kill him.""
The words caught my attention.
"When?""
"Six years ago.""
I stared at her.
"Six years?""
She nodded.
"He was alive. Barely.""
Adrian closed his eyes.
"Beatrice.""
"No.""
She looked at him.
"You can't protect him anymore by hiding the truth.""
Then she looked back at me.
"He had broken ribs. A gunshot wound. He couldn't even stand.""
My jaw tightened.
"And you helped him?""
"Yes.""
"Why?""
Her answer came immediately.
"Because nobody else did.""
That hurt more than I expected.
Because I knew what she meant.
Everyone believed Adrian was dead.
Everyone moved on.
Everyone except the person who found him.
"What happened six years ago?"" I asked.
Beatrice looked at Adrian.
He nodded.
"It's time.""
He reached into his coat and pulled out a small envelope.
Not the folder from before.
Something else.
Something older.
"I kept this because I thought one day you'd need to know.""
I took it.
Inside was a single photograph.
The edges were burned.
The image showed my father.
My father.
Standing beside a younger Lorenzo.
But they weren't alone.
There was a third person.
Someone I recognized.
Someone who should not have been there.
Someone who had been dead for years.
My fingers tightened around the photo.
"What is this?""
Adrian stared at the image.
"The night everything changed.""
I looked at him.
"Who took this?""
His expression became darker.
"Your mother.""
My heart stopped.
"My mother died before Adrian's disappearance.""
"I know.""
"Then how—"
Adrian looked toward the city lights in the distance.
"Because your mother wasn't killed by an accident either.""
The world went silent.
I stared at him.
"What did you say?""
Before he could answer, my phone rang.
The sound cut through the empty street.
Unknown number.
I answered.
No one spoke.
Only breathing.
Then a voice whispered.
"Lorenzo knows.""
My grip tightened.
The voice continued.
"And if you want to know why your brother survived...""
A pause.
A slow inhale.
"Ask yourself why your mother died.""
The call ended.
I lowered the phone.
Adrian looked at me.
"What did they say?""
I didn't answer.
Because for the first time in twelve years, I wasn't searching for the truth about my brother.
May you like
I was searching for the truth about my family.
And somewhere in Chicago, someone who had spent years burying secrets had just realized one of them had come back alive.
