The safe house was little more than a forgotten relic of the Cold War: a crumbling, concrete bunker hidden beneath the skeletal remains of a long-abandoned farmhouse. Inside, it smelled of damp stone and mildew, the faint hum of an old generator the only sound breaking the silence.
Amelia sat cross-legged on the cold floor, her laptop perched precariously on an overturned crate. Beside her lay the journal they'd retrieved from the château. Its weathered leather cover bore The Architect's symbol, and its pages were filled with dense, coded writing that seemed to mock her with its secrecy.
Elena paced nearby, the sharp click of her boots against the stone floor betraying her growing impatience. "How much longer?" she asked, her tone clipped.
"As long as it takes," Amelia replied without looking up. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, her focus unwavering. "This isn't some amateur cipher. It's layered—each level leads to another. If I rush it, I could miss something."
"Or trigger a failsafe," Finn added from his perch on a rusted filing cabinet. His voice was calm, but his eyes never stopped scanning the room, as if expecting danger to materialize from the shadows. "The Architect doesn't leave anything unguarded, even information."
Victor leaned against the far wall, arms crossed over his chest. His gaze flicked between Amelia and Finn, suspicion etched into his features. "You seem to know a lot about how The Architect operates. Too much."
Finn's jaw tightened, but he didn't rise to the bait. "And you don't know enough. That's why you need me."
The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. Amelia finally looked up, shooting Victor a warning glance. "If you two don't stop bickering, this'll take even longer. So unless you want to waste more time, shut up."
Victor's lips pressed into a thin line, but he said nothing.
Satisfied, Amelia turned her attention back to the journal. Her eyes narrowed as she spotted a faint pattern in the text—a sequence of numbers hidden among the symbols. She quickly entered them into her laptop, and a soft chime signaled her success.
"Got it," she murmured.
"What is it?" Elena asked, stepping closer.
Amelia gestured to the screen. "Coordinates. But they're not just a single location—it's a network. Safe houses, storage sites, meeting points. All connected to The Architect's operations."
Victor pushed off the wall, his interest piqued despite his earlier frustration. "Where's the closest one?"
Amelia enlarged the map, her finger tracing a route across Europe. "Here," she said, pointing to Istanbul. "A villa on the outskirts of the city. If this map is accurate, it's a hub for smuggling and black-market deals."
Finn nodded, his expression unreadable. "Makes sense. Istanbul's been a crossroads for centuries. If The Architect has a major operation anywhere, it's there."
Amelia turned to him, her gaze piercing. "What aren't you telling us?"
Finn held her stare for a moment before sighing. "The villa isn't just any safe house. It's one of the oldest. If there's anything there, it won't just be art or artifacts—it'll be the kind of leverage The Architect uses to control people. Blackmail, secrets, maybe even records of the society's members."
Elena crossed her arms, her skepticism clear. "And you just happen to know this?"
"I did my research," Finn said evenly. "Before I walked away from all of it."
Victor scoffed. "Convenient."
"Enough," Amelia snapped. She stood, closing the laptop and tucking the journal under her arm. "We don't have time to keep questioning each other. If this villa holds answers, then that's where we're going."
Elena hesitated, her jaw tightening as she glanced at Finn. "If he's lying—"
"He's not," Amelia said firmly, though she wasn't entirely sure if she believed it herself. "Let's move."
The group packed quickly, their movements efficient despite the lingering tension. As they prepared to leave, Finn caught Amelia's arm, his voice low. "Be careful with what you find there. Some truths are better left buried."
Amelia frowned, her eyes searching his face. "What aren't you telling me?"
Finn didn't answer, instead stepping back and motioning for her to follow the others.
As they exited the safe house and slipped into the cover of night, Amelia couldn't shake the feeling that they were walking into something far more dangerous than they could imagine.
And Finn's warning echoed in her mind: Some truths are better left buried.