The evening air was crisp as Naomi exited The Black Vault. The night hadn't gone as planned, but it rarely did when dealing with the Morettis. Her head spun with fragments of the overheard conversation about the shipment, Kara's cryptic warning, and Adrian's unsettling proximity. Everything about the Moretti family was like a finely woven spiderweb, and she was crawling dangerously close to its center.
Lucy and Ethan were waiting by a black town car parked near the curb, laughing about something Naomi was too distracted to catch. She forced a smile as she approached, hiding the turmoil bubbling just beneath her calm exterior.
"You okay, Nai?" Ethan asked, his brow furrowed with concern.
"I'm fine," Naomi said quickly, brushing past him to climb into the car. She could feel his gaze linger as she settled into the seat, but she didn't acknowledge it. Ethan's protectiveness was something she had grown used to, though tonight, it grated on her nerves more than usual.
The ride home was filled with Lucy's animated chatter about the club's atmosphere, the music, and the people she'd met. Ethan chimed in occasionally, but Naomi stayed quiet, staring out the window as the city blurred past. Her thoughts kept returning to Adrian—his words, his tone, the way his eyes had seemed to strip away every layer of her facade.
When they reached her apartment building, Naomi climbed out of the car, muttering a quick goodnight to her friends before heading inside. She didn't look back to see if Ethan was watching her.
Inside, the apartment was dark and silent, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator. Naomi kicked off her heels and leaned against the door, the weight of the evening pressing down on her. She replayed Adrian's parting words in her mind: "I thought you said you weren't here to meet anyone."
It wasn't just a casual observation—it was a challenge, an insinuation. Did he know she was a journalist? Had she been too obvious?
Naomi walked to her desk and flipped open her laptop, her fingers trembling slightly as she typed out the details she had gathered:
The Black Vault: Central hub for Moretti operations.Kara: Possible insider. Connection to Adrian?Shipment: Mentioned in conversation. Need specifics—what, where, when?
She leaned back in her chair, staring at the list. It wasn't much, but it was a start. The mention of the shipment was her only solid lead, and it could be the break she needed. But pursuing it would mean venturing deeper into the Moretti world, risking exposure—and her safety.
Her phone buzzed, breaking her train of thought. She glanced at the screen, expecting another message from Chris. Instead, it was an unknown number.
Unknown: You're playing a dangerous game, Naomi Reid.
Her blood ran cold.
For a moment, she just stared at the message, her heart pounding in her chest. Whoever this was, they knew her name. They knew what she was doing.
She took a deep breath and typed out a response.
Naomi: Who is this?
The reply came almost instantly.
Unknown: Someone who doesn't want to see you get hurt. Walk away while you still can.
Naomi's grip tightened on the phone. She didn't recognize the number, and the vague warning did little to intimidate her. She was used to threats—they came with the territory of being a journalist. But this one felt different. It was personal.
She didn't reply. Instead, she blocked the number and tossed her phone onto the couch. Whoever it was, they weren't going to scare her off.
Turning back to her laptop, Naomi began researching The Black Vault and its ties to the Moretti family. The club's financial records were clean—too clean. It was obvious that the real money came from under-the-table deals and illicit activities, but there was no paper trail to follow.
As the hours ticked by, Naomi's exhaustion began to catch up with her. She closed her laptop and made her way to bed, her mind still racing.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________
The next morning, Naomi was jolted awake by the sound of her phone ringing. She groaned and reached for it, squinting at the screen. It was her editor, Laura.
"Naomi, I need you in the office. Now," Laura said without preamble.
"What's going on?" Naomi asked, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.
"Someone just dropped off an anonymous tip about the Moretti family. And you're going to want to see this."
Naomi's heart skipped a beat. "What kind of tip?"
"Come in and find out," Laura said before hanging up.
Naomi didn't waste any time. She threw on a blazer and jeans, grabbed her bag, and hailed a cab. The drive to the office felt like an eternity, her mind racing with possibilities.
When she arrived, Laura was waiting for her in the conference room, a thick envelope in hand.
"This came in about an hour ago," Laura said, handing it to her. "No return address, no name. Just this."
Naomi opened the envelope and pulled out a stack of photographs. Her breath caught in her throat as she flipped through them. They were surveillance photos of Adrian—meeting with men in dark alleys, exchanging briefcases, slipping in and out of unmarked cars.
But it wasn't just Adrian in the photos. Naomi froze when she saw the last picture: herself, standing outside The Black Vault.
Her pulse quickened. Someone was watching her.
Laura was watching her closely. "Naomi, if you're in over your head—"
"I'm fine," Naomi said quickly, cutting her off. "This is exactly what I need."
But as she stared at the photos, a nagging sense of unease crept over her. Whoever had sent the tip had access to information that no one should have. And they were clearly trying to send her a message.
Naomi slipped the photos back into the envelope and stood up. "I need more time to dig into this," she told Laura. "I'll keep you updated."
Laura nodded, though her expression was wary. "Be careful, Naomi. This isn't just another story. These people don't play by the rules."
Naomi left the office with the envelope tucked securely in her bag. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched, even as she stepped out onto the bustling streets of New York.
Adrian's face lingered in her mind as she hailed another cab. She didn't know if he was an ally, an enemy, or something in between. But one thing was clear: she was running out of time to find out.