Chapter 6 - THE EMERALD NECKLACE
The world was a chaotic blur of shattering glass and crushing metal.
The armored SUV rolled twice down the embankment before slamming into a massive oak tree, coming to a violent, jarring halt.
Silence, thick and terrifying, followed the crash.
"Elena," a gruff voice broke the stillness.
Elena gasped for air, the seatbelt biting into her shoulder. The car was resting on its side. She looked over. Adrien was bleeding from a cut on his forehead, but he was already unbuckling his harness.
"Tommy?" Elena yelled into the back.
"I'm okay! I'm okay," Tommy groaned, kicking out a shattered window.
"We have to move," Adrien commanded, kicking out the windshield with his heavy boots. "The Moretti hit squad will be down here in less than two minutes."
He grabbed Elena’s hand and pulled her out of the wreckage into the pouring rain. They scrambled up the muddy embankment, slipping and sliding in the dark, just as the headlights of the two pursuing SUVs illuminated the road above.
"Into the woods," Adrien ordered, pushing Tommy ahead.
They ran into the dense forest, the rain masking their footsteps. For twenty minutes, they pushed through thick brush and thorns until they reached a small, abandoned hunting cabin hidden deep in the trees.
Adrien kicked the rotting door open and ushered them inside. It was completely dark, smelling of mildew and old wood.
"They have thermal scopes," Adrien said, breathing heavily. "They'll track our body heat. We can't stay here long."
He pulled a small tactical flashlight from his pocket, shielding the beam with his hand. He looked at Elena. She was shivering, her emerald silk dress ruined and soaked in mud.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice softening just a fraction.
"No," she lied, hiding a deep scrape on her arm. "Adrien, what did Vincent mean about my father? He was an honest man."
Adrien sighed, leaning against the wooden wall. "Your father was an honest man who got into debt. The Morettis leveraged it to force him to cook their books. When he realized they were going to kill him anyway, he tried to steal their offshore account data to give to the Feds as a bargaining chip."
Elena felt tears prick her eyes. "He was trying to protect us."
"Yes," Adrien said softly. "He was."
"The drawing," Tommy suddenly spoke up from the corner, his voice trembling. "Ellie, the drawing Dad gave you before he died. Where is it?"
"It's at my apartment," Elena said. "In my nightstand."
Adrien’s eyes darkened. "If Vincent knows about the drawing, his men are already tearing your apartment apart to find it."
"But they won't find anything," Elena said frantically. "It's literally just a crayon drawing of our house!"
"Arthur Ellis was a brilliant accountant," Adrien reasoned. "He wouldn't hide a flash drive in a drawing. He would hide numbers."
Elena froze. "Numbers?"
She closed her eyes, picturing the drawing. She had looked at it a hundred times over the past three years. It was a crude house, a sun, and a tree. But there was something else.
"The address," Elena whispered, her eyes flying open. "I drew the numbers of our house on the mailbox. But Dad added numbers later. He said they were a secret code. A phone number."
Adrien stepped closer, his intense gaze locking onto hers. "Do you remember the numbers, Elena?"
"Yes," she nodded. "3-4-1-8-9."
Adrien pulled out a burner phone he had retrieved from the wrecked car. He dialed the numbers.
A moment later, an automated voice answered.
“Welcome to the First National Bank of Chicago. Please enter your safety deposit box number.”
Adrien hung up.
"It's a bank vault," Adrien said. "The flash drive is in a safety deposit box. The drawing is the key."
Before they could plan their next move, the heavy wooden door of the cabin exploded inward.
Splinters rained down as three men in tactical gear burst into the room, their assault rifles raised.
"Don't move!" the lead man yelled, activating a blinding tactical strobe light.
Adrien didn't have his weapon; it had been lost in the crash.
The men grabbed Adrien, slamming him against the wall and zip-tying his hands. Another man grabbed Tommy, throwing him to the muddy floor.
The leader walked up to Elena, grabbing her roughly by the arm.
"Vincent wants to talk to you," the man sneered.
He pulled a radio from his vest and clicked the mic. "Boss. We got Russo and the girl."
"Excellent," Vincent Moretti’s voice crackled over the radio. "Bring them to the warehouse. But check the girl first. She might be wearing the key."
The guard frowned, looking Elena up and down. His eyes landed on her neck.
He reached out and yanked the collar of her ruined dress, exposing her collarbone.
"Nothing here," the guard said into the radio.
"Check her pockets," Vincent ordered.
The guard patted her down, finding nothing.
"Sir, she's clean. No keys."
"Then she must have left it at her apartment," Vincent sighed over the radio. "Burn the apartment down. Leave no trace. And bring me Russo's head."
Elena’s heart stopped.
If they burned the apartment, the drawing—the only proof that could save them—would be destroyed.
But as the guard turned to lead them out, he noticed something catching the beam of his flashlight on Elena's neck.
He reached out and traced the thin, nearly invisible gold chain resting against her skin.
He pulled it.
Dangling at the end of the chain, hidden beneath her dress, was a heavy, emerald pendant necklace.
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"Well, well," the guard grinned, holding it up. "Looks like she was hiding something after all."
Adrien’s eyes widened in sheer panic. "Don't touch that!"
