Page 38 of Shadowed Vows: Ghost (Nightfall Syndicate #1)

thirty-one

Alina

This is my chance.

I slip out of bed, careful to avoid the creaky floorboard I've known about since I was ten. My attention to detail serves me well as I pull on jeans and a sweater in the darkness, moving with deliberate quiet.

Simon has information. I just need thirty minutes.

I grab my leather jacket and tiptoe down the hallway, pausing briefly outside my parents' room. A part of me feels guilty for sneaking out like a teenager, but they'd only worry—or worse, insist on coming with me. Dad never could resist a good scoop.

Downstairs, The Herald offices are dark and silent, yesterday's papers stacked neatly by the door for morning delivery. The night security guard, Ryan, looks up from his crossword puzzle as I descend the stairs.

"Ms. Bennett? Everything okay?" His hand instinctively moves toward his sidearm—Dad insisted on armed security after we published the corruption series last year.

I force a casual smile. "Just heading out to meet a source. Early bird gets the worm and all that."

Ryan shifts uncomfortably. "Your dad mentioned you shouldn't leave without letting someone know, especially with everything that's been happening."

"Look," I step closer, keeping my voice low and confident like Asher taught me during situational awareness training. "I need these files, and my source only has a small window to meet. Thirty minutes, that's all I need."

His jaw tightens. "Mr. Mercer will have my ass if anything happens to you. He was very specific when he called."

I freeze. "You've spoken to Mr. Mercer?"

Ryan nods. "He called twice last night to check the security perimeter, and once this morning around two. Said he'd be sending someone by at six."

Of course he did. The overprotective control freak.

"I'll be back before then," I promise, then add with practiced sincerity, "And I'll make sure Mr. Mercer knows you tried to stop me but that I can be... persuasive. I'll put in a good word. "

Ryan hesitates, clearly weighing his options. I decide to push a bit more, using the negotiation techniques Cole had drilled into me.

"You know these files could be the break we need in the case," I say. "I've been doing this for years—meeting sources, extracting information. It's literally my job."

He sighs heavily. "Thirty minutes. Then I'm calling it in."

"Deal." I flash him a grateful smile. "I promise I'll be careful."

I slip out the back entrance, making sure to stay in the blind spots of the external cameras like Jax had pointed out during my training. The pre-dawn fog embraces me as I pull up my collar against the chill and type a quick message to Simon: Can meet now at the usual spot. Important.

His reply comes almost instantly: 15 min. Come alone.

North Beach is eerily quiet this early, just a few delivery trucks and the occasional taxi. I make my way to Caffe Trieste, knowing the owner opens early to prep for the day. He lets me in with a nod—I've spent enough late nights working on stories here to earn the privilege.

I choose a seat in the back corner, my back to the wall with a clear view of both exits, old habits reinforced by Asher's tactical positioning lessons. I scan for potential threats, identifying choke points and escape routes just as he'd taught me.

The rich aroma of espresso fills the air as I settle in, ordering an americano while I wait.

Something feels off this morning—a prickle at the back of my neck that I can't quite place.

I scan the café's interior, noting the newspaper delivery man lingering longer than necessary and a woman by the counter who seems overly interested in the pastry display.

I adjust my posture, maintaining what Xander called "relaxed readiness"—appearing casual while being prepared to move instantly.

The bell above the door chimes. Simon enters—my source from the tech company's accounting department, although this is our first time meeting face to face. He orders coffee first, maintaining protocol we had discussed if we ever met.

I smile as he sits down, but my heart sinks. His face is pale, and beads of sweat dot his forehead. This isn't the confident whistleblower I was expecting.

"Are you okay?" I ask softly.

He glances around nervously. "We don't have much time. They know."

My blood turns to ice. "Who knows?"

"Everyone. The CEO, the board... they figured out someone was talking." His hands shake as he pulls out a small flash drive. "Everything's on here. Financial records, emails, the whole operation."

I reach for the drive, but he pulls back. "You have to promise me something."

"What is it?"

"When this breaks, don't use my name. I have a family. I can't..."

I bow my head, grasping the gravity of what he's asking. "You have my word. I'll keep your name out of it."

He hesitates for a moment, then places the drive in my hand. "Good luck. You're going to need it."

Before I can respond, he stands up abruptly. His chair scrapes against the floor, drawing attention .

"Wait," I start to say, but he's already moving.

Simon bolts for the door like his ass is on fire, leaving me stunned. What the hell just happened?

That's when I notice. The newspaper man is on his feet. The woman by the counter is moving towards me. Two more men I hadn't noticed before are blocking the back exit.

My heart pounds as realization hits. I'm being boxed in.

Stay calm. Remember your training.

I casually slip the flash drive into my sock when I reach down to get my bag, following Remy's advice about hiding critical items where searchers rarely check immediately.

Cold dread washes over me as I realize I'm completely alone. No comms, no backup—just my wits and the training I've received over the past few days.

Think, Alina. What would you do in the simulation?

My eyes dart around, assessing the environment as Cole had drilled into me. The coffee mug could work as a distraction. The chair could create an obstacle.

The man with the newspaper takes a step closer, his hand reaching inside his jacket. I'm out of time.

It's now or never.

I spring to my feet, knocking over my table in the process. The crash startles the owner, creating a moment of chaos—the exact type of disruption Xander called a "perception break." I use it to my advantage, sprinting towards the main entrance.

A burly man blocks my path, his arms outstretched to grab me. I duck low, executing the evasive maneuver from Jax's training. Using his own momentum against him, I drive my shoulder into his solar plexus while sweeping his leg. The air whooshes out of him as he stumbles backward.

The training is actually working!

Adrenaline surges through me as I push past him, the door now within reach. My fingers brush the handle, hope rising in my chest.

I'm going to make it!

Suddenly, a sharp pain explodes at the base of my skull. My vision blurs, the world tilting sideways.

Then everything goes black.

The world is spinning as I regain consciousness, my head throbbing with each heartbeat.

I'm in the back of a vehicle, the low hum of tires on pavement filling my ears. My wrists are bound behind my back, and a blindfold covers my eyes. The smell of leather seats and pine air freshener fills my nostrils.

Kade. His name flashes through my mind, an anchor in the storm of disorientation.

There's a small a crack in my blindfold, and I catch a glimpse of a digital clock on the dashboard: 5:47 AM.

My heart lurches with a spark of hope. In thirteen minutes, Kade will notice I've not there to be picked up. He'll be looking for me.

"Look who's finally awake," a gravelly voice says from the front seat. "Hope you enjoyed your nap, Miss Bennett."

I bite back a retort, trying to orient myself. Stay calm, Alina. Assess the situation. Kade will realize something's wrong soon .

"You've been quite the nuisance," another voice chimes in, smoother and more refined. "Poking your nose where it doesn't belong."

My stomach churns as the vehicle takes a sharp turn. We're moving fast, probably just getting off a highway. The air feels cooler against my skin—we must be heading north out of the city.

"What do you want?" I ask, my voice steadier than I feel.

A chuckle. "Oh, we just want to have a little chat. Clear up some misunderstandings."

The refined voice speaks again. "You see, Miss Bennett, you've stumbled into something far bigger than you realize. We can't have you running around causing trouble."

The road changes beneath us, becoming bumpier. The air coming through the cracked window smells different than I'm used to—less urban, more... green. Vineyards?

"Where are you taking me?" I demand.

"Somewhere we can talk privately," the gravelly voice responds. "Don't worry, you'll be our honored guest."

The vehicle slows, gravel crunching under the tires. We've left the main road. The scent of grapes is unmistakable now - we must be in wine country. Sonoma Valley?

After what feels like an eternity, we come to a stop. Doors open and close. Rough hands grab my arms, pulling me from the vehicle.

"Watch your step," the refined voice says, almost politely. "We wouldn't want you to hurt yourself before meeting the boss."

I'm guided up what feels like wooden steps, then inside a building. The temperature drops noticeably—air conditioning. My blindfold is removed, and I blink against the sudden light.

I'm in what looks like a rustic cabin, but with modern touches. A man stands before me, his gray eyes regarding me with cold curiosity.

"Miss Bennett, I've been looking forward to meeting you. My name is Markus Steele."

As my eyes adjust to the light, I take in the details of the cabin. Exposed wooden beams stretch across the vaulted ceiling, and a stone fireplace dominates one wall. The living room contains an interesting blend of old and new styles.

Comfortable leather chairs with thick cushioning stand next to a contemporary glass table with clean, transparent lines. Through large windows, I glimpse rolling hills covered in neat rows of grapevines.

Markus Steele stands before me, his presence commanding the room. His suit looks custom-tailored, probably worth more than my entire wardrobe.

"You're a hard woman to find, Miss Bennett." His voice smooth as silk but with an underlying edge of steel.

I swallow hard, trying to keep my voice steady. "I wasn't aware anyone was looking for me."

A hint of a smile touches his lips. "Oh, we've been looking for you for some time now. Your little meeting today was... opportune."

Shit. My contact. How did they know?

As if reading my thoughts, Markus continues, "Your contact didn't know he was compromised, of course. But we've been monitoring him for weeks, waiting to see who he'd reach out to. "

My mind races. If they've been watching my contact, what else do they know?

"I'm just a journalist following a lead," I say, testing the waters. "Nothing more."

Markus chuckles, the sound devoid of warmth. "Oh, Miss Bennett. We both know you're far more than 'just a journalist.' Your tenacity is... impressive. But also incredibly dangerous."

He stops, fixing me with his penetrating gaze. "What I find curious, Miss Bennett, is what kind of reporter has a family that's so heavily guarded. Care to enlighten me?"

My blood runs cold. They've been watching my family? I struggle to keep my face neutral, but inside, I'm seething with anger and fear.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say, trying to sound confused.

He moves closer, and I fight the urge to step back. The scent of his expensive cologne mingles with the leather and cedar, making my head spin.

He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Come now, Miss Bennett. Let's not play games. We both know you've uncovered something that could get you killed if you're not careful."

I meet his gaze, refusing to be intimidated. "Is that a threat, Mr. Steele?"

He smiles, all teeth and no warmth. "Consider it a friendly warning. The story you're chasing? It's not worth your life."

The air in the room feels thick, charged with tension. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears.

Kade, where are you?