Chapter 6 - The Secret Inside the Recording
Freya raised the gun before Elias could speak.
Gabriel stepped between them.
“Move.”
“No.”
“He signed an order to kill me.”
“I can see that.”
“Then move.”
Elias did not reach for his weapon.
“That signature is genuine.”
Freya’s finger tightened.
Gabriel glanced back.
“Not helping.”
Elias continued.
“I signed it because Victor required proof that I was still loyal.”
Freya laughed once.
“You joined him?”
“I infiltrated him.”
“For six years?”
“Yes.”
“And how many people died while you protected your cover?”
Elias did not answer.
That was answer enough.
Freya lowered the weapon.
Not because she trusted him.
Because she suddenly understood him.
Elias had become the thing he was trying to destroy.
She looked at Gabriel.
“And you?”
His eyes narrowed.
“What about me?”
“How many times have you told yourself the same story?”
Gabriel had no reply.
The comparison wounded him.
Good, Freya thought.
It should.
They copied the evidence.
Elias wanted to deliver it to federal investigators.
Gabriel wanted to identify which investigators Victor controlled first.
Freya wanted both men to stop making decisions for her.
So she created three encrypted copies.
One went to a journalist Elias trusted.
One went to an attorney outside Illinois.
The third she kept.
Gabriel watched her.
“Insurance?”
“Accountability.”
Against him too.
He understood.
That night they moved to a hotel under false names.
Freya found Gabriel alone near the window.
“You really believed your father died?”
“Yes.”
“You loved him?”
Gabriel took a long time.
“When I was eleven, he broke a man’s hand at our kitchen table.”
Freya waited.
“I asked why.”
“What did he say?”
“That fear lasts longer than gratitude.”
Gabriel looked at her.
“I spent thirty years proving him right.”
“And?”
“And one waitress proved him wrong in thirty seconds.”
Freya smiled faintly.
“You’re still arrogant.”
“Yes.”
“But slightly less annoying.”
“Progress.”
It was the first moment between them that felt almost normal.
Then Gabriel’s phone rang.
Arthur.
Gabriel answered.
Arthur sounded exhausted.
“Victor knows.”
“Where are you?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“You betrayed me.”
“I protected you.”
“You protected him.”
“He’s your father.”
“He murdered people.”
“So have you.”
Gabriel went silent.
Arthur continued.
“Victor wants the card and Sullivan. Give him both and this ends.”
Freya took the phone.
“Arthur?”
Silence.
“You threatened a restaurant manager because a waitress embarrassed your boss.”
Arthur laughed bitterly.
“You have no idea what this is.”
“I know exactly what cowardice sounds like.”
The line went quiet.
Then Arthur said, “Midnight. Gilded Oak. Come alone.”
“Why there?”
“Because Victor wants to meet the woman who made his son hesitate.”
The call ended.
Gabriel shook his head.
“You’re not going.”
Freya stared at him.
“You still haven’t learned.”
“Learned what?”
“You don’t give me orders.”
At 11:58 p.m., they entered the darkened Gilded Oak through separate doors.
Freya walked toward table four.
The same table where everything began.
A single glass waited.
Beside it lay an envelope.
She opened it.
Inside was a photograph taken that morning.
Toby.
Her former coworker.
Bound to a chair.
On the back were five words.
BRING THE CARD OR HE DIES.
Then the restaurant lights switched on.
Someone began clapping slowly from the balcony.
May you like
Gabriel looked up.
And heard his dead father say his name.
