Chapter 5 - The Woman Who Knew My SonWe escaped through the bathroom window.
Again.
By then, I was beginning to hate windows.
Oliver clung to my hand while Adrian led us behind the motel.
We reached an abandoned storage building.
Inside, it smelled like dust and oil.
Adrian locked the door behind us.
I whispered, “How long can we stay?”
“Not long.”
“You say that about everything.”
“Because it's usually true.”
I sat down beside Oliver.
He looked frightened.
“Mom?”
“I’m here.”
“Are they going to take me?”
“No.”
Adrian answered before I could.
“They'd have to get through me first.”
Oliver looked at him.
“You know my dad?”
Adrian crouched.
“Yes.”
“What was he like?”
Adrian smiled faintly.
“Stubborn.”
Oliver smiled.
“Mom says that too.”
“He was also brave.”
“Was he a spy?”
I looked at Adrian.
He looked back.
“Yes.”
Oliver's eyes widened.
“That is so cool.”
Despite everything, I almost laughed.
Then footsteps sounded outside.
Adrian's expression changed.
He pulled out a small handgun.
I stared.
“You carry a gun?”
“Only when people are hunting me.”
“That answer isn't comforting.”
“It wasn't supposed to be.”
The door opened.
A woman stepped inside.
Not Evelyn.
Younger.
Maybe thirty.
Dark hair.
Black coat.
She raised her hands.
“Don't shoot.”
Adrian aimed at her.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Mara.”
She looked at Oliver.
Then at me.
“I worked with Thomas.”
“Another secret friend.”
“He had many.”
“Apparently.”
Mara smiled.
“Thomas was preparing to expose Black Meridian.”
“And now?”
“He's dead.”
“You don't sound surprised.”
“Because I knew it was coming.”
My anger flared.
“You knew?”
She took one step closer.
“Thomas knew he wouldn't survive.”
“Then why didn't he leave?”
“Because he had already chosen you.”
I froze.
“What does that mean?”
She pulled an envelope from her coat.
My name was written on it.
In Thomas's handwriting.
Elena.
I took it with trembling fingers.
Inside was a photograph.
Thomas holding newborn Oliver.
But there was something wrong.
The photograph had been taken at the hospital.
The date printed in the corner was correct.
Yet in the background stood a man I had never seen before.
I looked closer.
Mara said softly, “That's the man who ordered your husband's death.”
“Who is he?”
She shook her head.
“We don't know.”
“Then how can you say he ordered it?”
“Because Thomas called him the Architect.”
Adrian looked at the photograph.
His face changed.
“No.”
“What?”
He pointed.
“He isn't the Architect.”
“Who is he?”
Adrian stared at the image.
Then looked at Oliver.
“He's the Architect's son.”
Silence.
Mara nodded.
“And that's why we're in trouble.”
I looked between them.
“Why?”
Mara's voice dropped.
“Because the Architect's son isn't hunting the archive.”
She stared at Oliver.
“He's hunting your son.”
Oliver looked confused.
“Why me?”
Nobody answered.
Then the lights inside the warehouse flickered.
Adrian turned toward the door.
“Everyone get down.”
A laser dot appeared on the wall.
Red.
Moving slowly.
Searching.
Adrian grabbed Oliver.
“Run!”
A bullet smashed through the window.
Then another.
Mara screamed.
I ran behind Adrian.
And as we disappeared into the darkness, my son's voice shook beside me.
“Mom…”
“What?”
“I remember that man.”
I stopped.
“What man?”
May you like
Oliver stared into the dark.
“The one in Dad's picture.”
