Chapter 18: A Dead Man's Secrets...

The black SUV sped down the Louisiana highway, leaving the city lights of New Orleans behind. The air inside the vehicle was thick with tension, the weight of unanswered questions pressing down on them.

Isabelle sat in the backseat, heart still pounding from the chaotic escape. Cameron Steele, slumped beside her, looked weak but alive. His wrists were raw from the handcuffs, and his breathing was uneven. Damian drove with one hand on the wheel, his other resting near his gun. His sharp eyes flickered between the rearview mirror and the dark road ahead.

"Are we being followed?" Isabelle asked, trying to steady her nerves.

"Not yet," Damian muttered. "But they won't stop looking."

A weak chuckle escaped Steele's lips. "They won't stop until I'm dead."

Damian shot him a hard glance. "Then you'd better start talking."

Steele exhaled slowly, then turned his gaze to Isabelle. There was something in his eyes—regret, or maybe guilt.

"Your father never should have gotten involved," he said hoarsely.

Isabelle's fingers curled against her lap. "Involved in what?"

Steele hesitated. The silence stretched.

Then, finally, he spoke. "He found something—evidence of something bigger than any of us. He thought he could expose them."

"Expose who?" Damian pressed, his grip tightening on the wheel.

Steele licked his cracked lips. "The people who run things from the shadows. Politicians, military officials, billionaires—every war, every assassination, every shift in power leads back to them. Christopher Monroe found something they couldn't afford to let out. That's why they killed him. And that's why they're after you, Isabelle."

The words hit her like ice in her veins.

For years, she had mourned her father, never knowing the truth. Now, the answer was in front of her, and it was more terrifying than she could have imagined.

"What did he find?" she whispered.

Steele's expression darkened. "I don't know exactly. But I know where he kept his files."

Damian's eyes narrowed. "Where?"

Steele looked at him. "A storage facility. One of his safe houses. If we get there before they do, we might have a chance."

Damian nodded. "Then that's our next stop."

The SUV veered onto a quieter road, the city's distant glow fading into the darkness. The sense of being watched crawled over Isabelle's skin.

Damian's phone buzzed. A single text appeared on the screen.

"You're already too late."

A chill swept through the car.

Damian tightened his grip on the wheel. "Hold on."

He took a sudden turn, pulling into a dimly lit gas station. The engine idled as he scanned their surroundings.

Steele looked at the text and let out a slow, bitter laugh. "They already know where we're going."

Isabelle's stomach tightened. "How? No one else knew—"

"They have eyes everywhere," Steele muttered.

Damian looked at him. "Is there another location? Another safe house?"

Steele hesitated. Then, reluctantly, he nodded. "There's one more place."

Damian exhaled. "Then that's where we're going."

They drove in silence, moving deeper into the countryside. The air grew colder, the trees along the road thickening into dense shadows.

Finally, they reached a secluded house, barely visible in the dark. The windows were boarded up, and vines crawled over the walls.

Steele motioned toward it. "He used this place when he was hiding something valuable."

Damian pulled the SUV to a stop and cut the engine. The silence was deafening.

"Stay alert," he said as he reached for his gun.

The three of them stepped out, their footsteps crunching against gravel.

Steele led them to the door, his hands shaking as he reached for the key hidden under a loose brick. He hesitated.

Then—BANG.

A gunshot echoed through the night.

Isabelle's heart leaped into her throat.

"DOWN!" Damian shouted, grabbing her and pulling her behind the car as bullets tore through the night.

Steele staggered back, a dark stain blooming across his shoulder.

A figure emerged from the shadows—a man in a dark suit, gun raised. His face was eerily calm.

"Mr. Steele," the man said, his voice smooth and mocking. "You really thought you could run?"

Damian fired. The man dodged, ducking behind the tree line as more figures moved in.

Isabelle's pulse pounded. They were surrounded.

Steele clutched his wound, gritting his teeth. "They found us."

Damian's jaw tightened. "Then we make sure they don't leave alive."

The gunfight erupted. Damian moved like a shadow, his shots precise and deadly. One by one, the attackers fell, but more kept coming.

Isabelle's hands trembled as she clutched the small knife Damian had given her. She wasn't trained for this, but she wouldn't be helpless.

A man lunged at her from the side. She reacted instinctively, slashing the blade across his arm. He howled in pain, staggering back.

Damian's gun clicked—empty. He didn't hesitate. He grabbed a fallen attacker's weapon and fired, dropping the last of them.

Silence settled over the scene.

Steele was breathing heavily, blood staining his clothes.

"We need to get inside," Damian said.

They pushed through the door. Inside, the air was stale, dust covering the furniture.

Steele staggered toward a cabinet, yanking it open. He pulled out a locked box. His hands shook as he placed it on the table.

"This… this is what your father left behind."

Isabelle stared at it, her heartbeat loud in her ears.

Damian glanced at Steele. "Can you open it?"

Steele nodded weakly. "There's a code." He hesitated, then punched in a sequence.

The lock clicked.

Inside, stacks of documents and a single flash drive lay in the velvet lining.

Steele exhaled shakily. "This is the truth."

Damian picked up the drive. "Then we need to make sure it doesn't die with us."

A noise outside made Isabelle's blood run cold.

Footsteps.

More were coming.

Damian snapped the box shut. "We need to move. Now."

The truth was within reach.

But so were the people who would kill to bury it forever.