flash

Chapter 5 - Blood on the BlueprintThe sirens wailed in the distance, cutting through the morning traffic of Manhattan like a blade.

Before Evelyn could process Adrian’s ultimatum, the front glass doors of Hawthorne Auction House shattered with an explosive, deafening crash. Shards of safety glass rained across the showroom floor.

“Get down!” Adrian roared.

In a flash of terrifying speed, he grabbed Evelyn by the waist, tackling her behind the heavy mahogany partition of her desk just as a volley of automatic gunfire tore through the glass walls of her office. Wood splinters exploded into the air, and ceramic coffee mugs shattered into dust.

“Ambush!” Noah’s voice bellowed from the outer showroom, followed by the deafening roar of a silenced pistol returning fire.

Evelyn pressed her hands over her ears, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. The quiet, predictable life she had spent thirty-one years building was gone, blown to pieces by flying lead and shadows from her past.

Adrian crouched beside her, his expression remarkably calm despite the war zone erupting around them. He drew a sleek, matte-black Sig Sauer pistol from a holster concealed beneath his suit jacket, checking the clip with practiced precision.

“Did you bring them here?” Evelyn yelled over the gunfire, tears of frustration and fear prickling her eyes. “Is this your enemies coming after you?”

“No,” Adrian said grimly, his eyes darting toward the shattered doorway. “They aren’t after me. They’re after the pocket watch on your desk.”

The realization hit Evelyn like a physical blow. The ledger, the watch, the framing—it was all connected. Someone wanted the Rossi vault, and they were willing to massacre everyone in the auction house to get it.

“If we stay here, we die,” Adrian stated, looking down at her with intense, burning focus. “Can you run in those heels?”

“I can run in anything if someone is shooting at me!” she snapped back.

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“Good.” Adrian kicked open the back emergency exit of her office, which led down a narrow, private stairwell into the subterranean service tunnels of the city. He grabbed her hand, his grip ironclad and inescapable. “Stay behind me. Don't look back.”

As they plunged into the dark, damp concrete tunnels beneath Manhattan, Evelyn knew there was no turning back. She had just stepped off the edge of the cliff.

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