The rain lashed against the windshield, unyielding, as Ethan Drake's sedan swallowed the slick highway. The wipers scraped in time with Clara DeVries's shallow breaths, the rhythm almost hypnotic against the relentless storm. Inside, tension pressed as heavy as the storm clouds above.
Ethan's fingers gripped the steering wheel with precision, his piercing gray eyes scanning the road ahead. His mind raced, threading through the chaos of the past few hours. Clara shifted beside him, her fingers worrying at the hem of her oversized sweater, the frayed fabric unraveling with her nerves.
"You're quiet," Ethan said, his voice low, measured, a break in the silence but not an intrusion.
Clara hesitated, her gaze fixed on the rain. "Just... thinking."
Ethan nodded once, reaching for the burner phone on the dashboard. Clara's gaze flicked toward him, wary. He ignored it, dialing quickly.
The call connected. Gwen Alderidge's voice hit him like static and ice.
"This better be worth waking me up," Gwen snapped, the faint rasp of exhaustion curling under her sharp tone.
"Victor's death wasn't random," Ethan said, cutting through her impatience with calm precision. "It's bigger than that."
A pause. Then, skepticism. "Bigger how?"
"A web of names. Connections. Motives. The cipher ties it together." He glanced at Clara, her profile tense. "I'll decode it once we're at the safe house."
Gwen's frustration spilled through the line. "And how much does this progress cost me?"
"Twenty percent of the case," Ethan said, unflinching. "Twenty grand for what I've found so far."
"Twenty thousand?" Her voice sharpened. "You don't even have answers yet."
"You're not paying for what I know. You're paying for me to stay alive long enough to find out."
A harsh exhale answered him before the line disconnected. A moment later, the burner buzzed—Payment Received. Ethan dropped it back onto the dashboard.
"That's... a lot of money," Clara said softly, her words probing but tentative.
"It's survival," Ethan replied, his tone flat, impenetrable. "Nothing personal."
The sedan surged forward, swallowed by the storm.
The rain thinned as the clouds churned, darker now, almost sentient in their malice. Ethan's knuckles whitened on the steering wheel as a new tension filled the car. The burner phone buzzed again. Blocked number.
He answered, voice clipped. "Drake."
A mechanical distortion crackled through the line.
"You're carrying something that doesn't belong to you."
Ethan's jaw tightened. "Whoever you are, you're wasting your time."
"Turn back, Drake," the voice hissed. "Or she dies."
The line went dead. Ethan tossed the phone aside, his expression carved in stone.
Clara's voice trembled. "Who was that?"
Ethan didn't answer immediately. His mind spun, calculating. "Someone who doesn't want us at the safe house."
Clara's breath hitched, her hands gripping the seatbelt. "They're following us, aren't they?"
Ethan glanced at the rearview mirror, his sharp eyes catching the faint glint of headlights weaving through the rain. "Yes."
Without hesitation, he veered off the main road, the sedan skidding onto a dirt path that cut into a dense forest.
The safe house loomed, a forgotten cabin hunched under a canopy of trees. Ethan killed the engine, stepping into the cold downpour. Clara hesitated before following, her boots sinking into the muddy ground.
"Stay close. Don't touch anything," Ethan ordered, his voice clipped but steady.
Inside, the air hung stale, thick with dust and decay. Ethan moved like a ghost, sweeping the room with his sharp gaze before pulling his black messenger bag from his shoulder.
He unrolled the cipher, pinning it to the wall with practiced efficiency. Clara lingered by the door, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.
"What if we're too late?" she asked quietly, her voice almost lost in the rain drumming on the roof.
Ethan didn't look at her. "Doubt kills faster than bullets," he said, his focus unyielding. "If you want to survive, believe we'll figure this out."
Her fear wavered, momentarily overtaken by the gravity of his certainty.
Then, a sound—branches snapping outside.
Ethan froze, his every muscle taut. "Get down. Now."
Clara dropped to the floor, her heart pounding in her ears. Ethan moved to the window, his collapsible baton already in his hand. Shadows shifted among the trees, silent but deliberate.
"What do we do?" Clara whispered, her voice trembling.
Ethan's gray eyes narrowed, his tone a razor's edge. "We fight."
Rain battered the windows as the storm outside gave way to the one about to erupt within.