Chapter 10 — The Night I Failed

Adrian's POV I had spent sixteen years trying not to remember that night. It never worked. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the same things. The rain. The headlights. Her mother's face. And the blood. But tonight, when she said the date— June 14. Everything came back. I was twenty years old. And I was standing outside her house. I remember the rain being heavier than usual. I remember thinking I should leave. I remember her mother opening the door. She looked terrified. Not worried. Not nervous. Terrified. “Adrian.” I stepped inside. “What happened?” She locked the door behind me. Then checked it twice. “They found me.” My stomach dropped. “Who?” She didn't answer. Instead, she walked toward the living room and pulled the curtains shut. “Is she upstairs?” I nodded. “She’s asleep.” “Good.” “What's happening?” She looked at me. “If anything happens tonight, you take her and you leave.” I stared at her. “What are you talking about?” “You heard me.” “Where am I taking her?” “Anywhere.” “That doesn't make sense.” “It doesn't have to.” She walked toward the kitchen. I followed. “You called me here. Tell me what's going on.” She stopped. Then turned around. “They know about the files.” “What files?” Her expression changed. “The ones they were never supposed to find.” I remember that moment clearly. Because that was the first time I realized her secret wasn't just dangerous. It was bigger than both of us. “Who are they?” She whispered a name. I had heard it before. Everyone had. But hearing it from her made it different. “He can't know she's here.” “Who?” She looked upstairs. “Her father.” I froze. “What does he have to do with this?” “Everything.” Before I could ask another question— The lights went out. She grabbed my arm. “Don't move.” I heard something outside. A car door. Then another. She looked toward the window. “They're here.” I reached for my phone. “Call the police.” “No.” “Why?” “Because I don't know who I can trust.” Then there was a knock. Three times. Slow. Deliberate. Her face went pale. “Take her.” “What?” “Now.” I started toward the stairs. Then I heard glass breaking. Someone had entered through the back window. I ran upstairs. I reached her bedroom. She was still asleep. Six years old. Curled beneath the blanket. Completely unaware that her life was about to change. I picked her up. She stirred. “Mom?” “Shh.” “Where are we going?” “Somewhere safe.” I carried her downstairs. Her mother was standing in the hallway. There was blood on her shirt. I stopped. “Are you hurt?” She shook her head. “No.” Then I saw the blood on the floor behind her. It wasn't hers. Someone was lying in the kitchen. I couldn't see his face. Her mother grabbed my shoulder. “Don't look.” I looked anyway. He was dead. I knew him. And that was when I understood just how deep this had gone. “Take her.” “What about you?” “I'll follow.” “You're coming with us.” “I can't.” “Why?” She looked at her daughter. Then at me. “Because if they see me leave with her, they'll never stop looking.” I shook my head. “No.” “Adrian.” “No.” She stepped closer. “You promised me.” I froze. She had made me promise months earlier. If anything happened, I would protect her daughter. I had thought it was just paranoia. I was wrong. She pressed something into my hand. The same silver pendant. “Keep this.” “What is it?” “Something she'll need someday.” I looked at it. Then back at her. “Come with us.” She smiled. A small, sad smile. “I can't.” I heard footsteps outside. She pushed me toward the back door. “Go.” I didn't want to. But I did. I carried her daughter into the rain. And that was the last time I saw her. Or at least, that's what I believed. For years. I told myself I had done everything I could. I told myself I had saved her. But there was one thing I never told anyone. I hadn't left because I was brave. I left because I was afraid. Afraid that if I stayed, I'd lose her too. And I had already failed one person that night. I wasn't going to fail another. *-_-* I opened my eyes. The room was dark. I was back in the present. She was asleep in the room across the hall. Or at least I hoped she was. I sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the flash drive in my hand. The files were still there. The truth was still there. And so was the part I had spent sixteen years hiding. Her mother wasn't dead. Not when I left that night. She was alive. And she had given me one final instruction. Don't let my daughter find me. I had obeyed. Until now. I heard footsteps outside the room. I stood immediately. She appeared in the doorway. “You're awake.” I nodded. She looked at me. “You knew.” I didn't ask what she meant. “About my mother.” “Yes.” “And you knew she was alive.” My chest tightened. I had hoped she'd never find out this way. “Adrian.” I looked at her. “I need you to understand something.” “What?” “Everything I've done was to keep you alive.” She stared at me. “Then tell me the truth.” I couldn't. Not yet. Because there was another truth. One she wasn't ready for. One that would destroy whatever trust she had left. I looked toward the window. The rain had started again. Just like that night. She stepped closer. “What happened on June 14?” I closed my eyes. And remembered the last thing her mother said to me. If she ever finds out I'm alive, don't let her come looking for me. I opened my eyes. “I lied to you.” Her face fell. “I know.” “No.” I shook my head. “You don't.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the photograph I had taken from the safe. The one she hadn't seen. I handed it to her. She looked at it. Her expression changed. It was a picture of her mother. Standing beside a man. The same man from the photograph on the laptop. The man who had threatened her. The man I had spent sixteen years trying to find. She looked at me. “Who is he?” I stared at the photograph. “Your father.” She stopped breathing. And for the first time in sixteen years— I knew the truth was finally catching up to us.

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