Chapter 7 - The Son Who DiedThe voice echoed through the station.
Adrian raised his weapon.
“Come out.”
Nothing.
Then footsteps.
Slow.
Measured.
I grabbed the metal case.
Adrian pulled me behind him.
A figure stepped into the emergency light.
Older man.
Gray coat.
No weapon.
He looked at Adrian.
“You have your father’s eyes.”
Adrian’s face hardened.
“Who are you?”
The man smiled.
“Someone your family buried twice.”
I stared at him.
He looked at me.
“Your mother loved you.”
Adrian’s hand tightened around his gun.
“Stop talking about my mother.”
“She trusted the wrong man.”
“Who?”
The stranger looked at the case in my hands.
“She trusted your brother.”
Adrian froze.
“My brother died.”
“No.”
The stranger pointed at the photograph.
“He survived.”
“Where is he?”
The man smiled.
“Closer than you think.”
A shot rang out.
The stranger dropped.
Not dead.
Wounded.
Adrian ran toward him.
But the station exploded into chaos.
People screamed.
Security shutters slammed down.
Three gunmen appeared at the far entrance.
Adrian fired.
I crouched behind a pillar.
Glass exploded above my head.
Then someone grabbed me from behind.
A hand clamped over my mouth.
I kicked.
Bit.
Elbowed.
The attacker dragged me into a maintenance corridor.
I screamed Adrian’s name.
The hand vanished.
I turned.
No one.
Only a bloodstained envelope on the floor.
My name was written across it.
CARA JENKINS
I opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Toby.
Standing beside a man.
The man from the newspaper clipping.
Adrian’s supposedly dead brother.
On the back, one sentence:
Your brother knows where he is.
My heart stopped.
Toby?
No.
That couldn’t be true.
Then my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A distorted voice whispered:
“Ask Toby why he lied about where he was born.”
The call ended.
Adrian found me seconds later.
“What happened?”
I handed him the photograph.
His face changed.
“What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
He looked at me.
May you like
Then at the photograph.
“Take me to Toby.”
