Collateral Truths

Chapter 19– Collateral Truths

The air in the hotel suite was thick with tension. It was supposed to be safe—a nondescript location chosen by Mason, triple-checked by Michael. But now, with the revelation of Silas Creed's connection to Jonathan, nothing felt secure anymore.

Amara stood at the window, arms folded, trying to focus on the skyline. Vienna glimmered beneath a pale twilight, but she felt none of its beauty.

Behind her, Elias paced like a man trying to outrun his own thoughts.

"So what now?" Mason finally asked. "Do we find Jonathan? Do we run? Do we—what, take this to the press?"

"No press," Elias snapped. "If Silas is watching—and he is—the second this story breaks, we all disappear."

"Or die," Nyra added, voice cool.

The word hung like smoke.

---

Later that evening

Amara couldn't sleep. She stepped into the hallway, and the soft click of a door behind her made her freeze.

Elias.

He didn't speak right away. Just leaned against the wall beside her, eyes down the corridor.

"My whole life," he said quietly, "I've been careful about who I let close. I've built this wall… and Silas—he was one of the few people I thought I could trust."

Amara turned to him. "You didn't know. And that's exactly why West wanted you to."

Elias looked at her then. "But what if I mess this up again? What if she was right to warn you not to trust anyone—including me?"

There was something raw in his voice. Vulnerable.

Amara stepped closer. "You want the truth?"

He nodded.

She touched his hand gently. "I trust you. Even if everything else falls apart."

For a second, something flickered in his eyes. Then he leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers.

"I don't deserve that," he whispered.

"But you do," she replied.

And they stood there, two broken people trying to find something whole in each other.

---

In a warehouse on the city outskirts

Jonathan Creed wasn't hiding anymore. His face was older, beard greyer, but his mind was still sharp.

"I told West this would happen," he muttered to himself, typing into a battered laptop.

He pulled up files—blueprints, encrypted memos, even Daedalus prototypes that never saw daylight. The truth was there, in black and red.

A shadow moved behind him.

He didn't flinch. "I knew you'd come eventually."

A gun cocked.

"Silas always said you were predictable."

The figure stepped forward. But it wasn't Silas.

It was someone else.

Someone Elias knew.

---

Back at the hotel

Michael was running diagnostics on the room's security feed when he frowned. "Guys," he called, "we have a problem."

"What kind of problem?" Mason asked.

Michael enlarged the screen. A figure moving across the roofline.

"Someone's watching us."

Before anyone could react, a drone smashed against the window with a crack of glass. A small device landed on the floor—beeping rapidly.

"Get down!" Elias yelled.

---

The explosion wasn't meant to kill. Just to warn.

As smoke filled the room, a message burned into the wall behind them, projected by the shattered drone:

"Next time, I won't miss. —SC"

The hotel had been cleared within minutes. Sirens wailed below as emergency crews swarmed the building. But Elias, Amara, Mason, Michael, and Nyra were already gone—spirited away through an underground exit mapped by Nyra days ago.

In the back of a van, Elias sat still. His face, usually so composed, was hard—stone-cold. His mind was replaying the warning on the wall, over and over.

"Next time, I won't miss. —SC"

"Silas is done hiding," Elias muttered.

Amara sat beside him, visibly shaken, her fingers clenched into fists on her lap.

Michael broke the silence. "If he's this close to us, it means he's nervous. That attack—it wasn't just a threat. It was a message. He knows we're getting close."

Mason, who was driving, glanced into the rearview mirror. "We're not backing down, right?"

Elias looked at Amara, and she met his eyes—firm, unyielding.

"No," Elias said. "Not now. Not after everything."

---

Meanwhile, across the city

Nyra sat at a sleek, glass desk in a dimly lit safehouse. Her laptop screen glowed softly as lines of code scrolled down. But her eyes kept drifting to the message Elias had sent her earlier:

"Are you okay? – EG"

She hadn't replied.

There was a gnawing ache in her chest—one that wasn't about Silas or Daedalus.

It was about Elias.

The way he looked at Amara, the way he trusted her, protected her.

Nyra had never been the type to fall easily. She'd seen too much of the world's worst. But Elias... he had been a constant. And maybe, somewhere in her mind, she'd let herself hope.

Now, she felt that hope turn to something heavy.

Something dangerous.

---

Back with Amara and Elias

The team had taken refuge in a countryside villa—one owned by a long-forgotten contact of West Solarin's. The place was quiet, with tall trees hugging the stone walls, and the kind of silence that makes secrets echo louder.

Amara wandered outside as the sun dipped behind the hills. She found Elias near a wooden bench, sipping black coffee, his jacket hanging open. He was watching the horizon—but she could tell he wasn't seeing it.

"Do you think we'll make it out of this?" she asked.

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he held up a hand, fingers slightly trembling.

"I can't afford to lose control, Amara," he said. "Not now."

She stepped closer. "You're not losing control. You're human."

He turned to her. "West said, 'Tell him. Don't trust anyone.' I keep thinking about that. About who the him is. What if it's me? What if she knew I'd get too close to someone I shouldn't trust?"

Amara looked at him, her heart thudding.

"You mean me?"

"I don't know."

Silence stretched.

Amara stepped back. "If that's what you think, maybe we shouldn't be standing here together."

Elias grabbed her wrist—gently but firmly. "That's not what I think. That's what I fear."

And in that moment, the space between them snapped.

He kissed her.

It wasn't gentle. It was raw. Hungry. A kiss born from fear and fury and months of buried desire.

When he pulled away, his voice was low. "I trust you, Amara. No matter what West said."

Her voice trembled. "Then don't push me away again."

"I won't."

---

Somewhere else in Europe

Jonathan Creed closed the encrypted file. The evidence was damning—Silas had been the architect of something deeper, darker, and still very much alive.

Just as he reached for his burner phone, a voice interrupted the quiet.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

He turned.

Nyra stood in the doorway.

And in her hand, was a gun.

The night air wrapped around the villa like a cold secret. Inside, the fireplace crackled, but the warmth never reached Elias's bones.

He stood over a table littered with files—evidence from Daedalus, West Solarin's scribbled notes, and newly intercepted messages from Creed. Everything was connected. But how?

Amara entered quietly, her hair still damp from a shower, wrapped in a sweatshirt that belonged to Elias. Her gaze fell on the table.

"Still trying to untangle the past?" she asked.

Elias didn't look up. "The past is catching up faster than we expected."

She came closer, eyes narrowing on one particular page. "This signature... it's familiar."

Elias turned to her. "From where?"

"Myra," she whispered. "I saw it once—on a contract. Years ago, when I was sixteen. Myra handled all of West's legal paperwork."

Elias's jaw clenched. "You're saying Myra worked with Daedalus?"

"I don't know what I'm saying. But if she did, it changes everything."

---

Meanwhile, in a hidden bunker

Nyra kept her gun raised as Jonathan Creed smirked.

"You really think you'll get away with pulling that trigger?" he asked.

Nyra didn't blink. "If you move, I won't hesitate."

"Is this about Elias?" Jonathan said, stepping slowly to the side. "You've grown fond of him, haven't you? But you know he'd never choose you."

The words hit like a slap.

Nyra's grip tightened. "This isn't about feelings. It's about justice."

"You're lying to yourself."

In one motion, Nyra disarmed the burner phone from his hand and threw it against the wall. "I need your files. All of them. On Silas. On Myra. On everyone."

Jonathan raised his hands. "You're playing a dangerous game, Nyra. Don't forget which side you were trained by."

"I didn't forget. I just changed sides."

---

Back at the villa

Elias stepped out to the balcony, needing air. He didn't expect to see Michael there, sitting with a drink, his face lit only by the glow of the moon.

"You ever think we're just... pawns?" Michael asked, not looking up.

"All the time," Elias replied.

Michael took a sip. "Something doesn't add up. We've been ahead of Silas at every turn, but he keeps slipping away like he wants us to keep chasing him."

"You think it's a trap?"

"I think he's luring us to something. Or someone."

Elias turned toward the hallway, eyes narrowing. "Then it's time we flipped the game."

---

Later that night

Amara couldn't sleep. Her dreams were filled with shadows—West's voice echoing again and again:

"Tell him. Don't trust anyone."

But now... now she feared the warning wasn't just about someone on the outside.

Could Myra have betrayed them?

Could Elias?

No. She refused to believe that.

She reached for her notebook and began writing. She didn't know why, but something told her the answer might come through the words—through tracing every step that led her here.

Suddenly, there was a knock.

Nyra stepped in, bruised and exhausted. "We need to talk."

Amara stood. "What happened to you?"

"I have proof. And a name. Myra Solarin didn't just work with Daedalus... she funded it."

The room fell silent.

Nyra met Elias's stunned gaze as he entered from behind Amara.

"She's the reason West died."