Chapter 7 - THE NIGHT I STOPPED RUNNING
For three years, Preston Hayes had taken everything from me.
My father's company.
My education.
My savings.
My sense of safety.
Now he had my father.
And for the first time, I wasn't willing to keep running.
"Tell me how we find them."
Roman studied me.
"We do this carefully."
"I'm done being careful."
"No, Sloan. You're done being powerless. Those aren't the same thing."
His words stopped me.
Roman leaned closer.
"Preston wants you frightened. He wants you to make a mistake."
I looked down at the blueprint.
"Then we don't give him one."
Roman nodded.
"Exactly."
Investigators arranged surveillance around Halcyon Tower while Roman contacted people familiar with the building's history.
I studied the original plans.
The more I examined them, the more I noticed.
The concealed corridor wasn't simply hidden.
It had been designed to allow someone to enter the underground archive without passing through the public lobby.
A private route.
There was also an old freight elevator.
The official plans listed it as permanently sealed.
But the original drawing showed something different.
A manual override system.
I pointed toward the symbols.
"Here."
Roman leaned closer.
"What?"
"The elevator can still reach B4."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm an architecture student, remember?"
A faint smile appeared.
"You were."
I met his eyes.
"I still am."
Something softened in his expression.
"Yes," he said quietly.
"You are."
That evening, detectives obtained the necessary legal authorization to inspect the building.
Roman and I remained in a secure observation area while a specialized team entered through the service levels.
For twenty minutes, nothing happened.
Then the radio crackled.
"Access corridor located."
My heart raced.
Another transmission.
"Descending to B4."
Then silence.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Twenty.
Finally, a voice returned.
"Underground chamber located."
I gripped Roman's arm.
"What's inside?"
The answer came slowly.
"Filing cabinets. Servers. Financial records."
Then another officer spoke.
"And there's a room at the far end."
Roman leaned forward.
"Occupied?"
A pause.
"Yes."
I stopped breathing.
"By whom?"
The officer answered.
"One male. Approximately forty-five. Conscious."
Roman's face changed.
"Description?"
"Dark hair. Scar near left eyebrow."
Roman stared toward the radio.
His voice trembled.
"Gabriel."
May you like
Then the officer added something unexpected.
"The man claims he has been waiting twelve years for Roman Costa."
