Aria

Leo turned to face me, his gray eyes intense.

"He said to tell you to remember what happened at the lighthouse when you were twelve. He said you would understand what that meant."

The lighthouse. I hadn't thought about that day in years. My father had taken me there for my birthday, just the two of us. He had shown me something hidden in the old keeper's room, something he made me promise never to tell anyone about.

"I need to go there," I said suddenly. "To the lighthouse."

"Absolutely not," Leo said immediately. "It's too dangerous."

"But my father wanted me to remember. There's something there, something important."

Leo studied my face for a long moment. "What aren't you telling me?"

I bit my lip, remembering my promise to my father. But that was before he was in prison, before our lives were destroyed.

"My father hid something at the lighthouse," I admitted. "Documents, I think. He said they were insurance, in case anything ever happened to him."

Leo's eyes widened slightly. "And you never told anyone?"

"He made me promise," I said. "He said lives depended on keeping that secret."

Leo was quiet, processing this information. Finally, he spoke.

"Tonight," he said. "We go tonight when it's dark. If these documents are what I think they are, they could be the key to everything."

"And if it's a trap?" I asked.

Leo's expression was grim but determined.

"Then we spring it together," he said.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, I realized that tonight would change everything. Either we would find the evidence to save my father, or we would walk into a trap that could destroy us both.

But looking at Leo's determined face, I knew we had no choice.

We had to take the risk.

The moon was hidden behind thick clouds as Leo's black car moved silently through the empty streets. I sat beside him, my heart pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it. The lighthouse was forty minutes outside the city, standing alone on a rocky cliff overlooking the ocean.

"Tell me again what your father hid there," Leo said, his eyes scanning the road ahead.

"It was a metal box," I replied, remembering that day clearly now. "He buried it beneath the floorboards in the old keeper's room. He said if anything ever happened to him, I should get it and give it to someone I trusted completely."

Leo glanced at me. "And you trust me?"

The question hung between us. Did I trust him? This man who had saved me, who was helping me, but who also had secrets of his own?

"I don't have much choice," I said honestly.

Something flickered across his face, maybe hurt, but it was gone too quickly to be sure.

The lighthouse appeared ahead, a dark silhouette against the stormy sky. It had been abandoned for years, the white paint peeling, the windows broken. Leo parked the car behind some rocks where it wouldn't be seen from the road.

"Stay close to me," he commanded, pulling something from under his seat.

My eyes widened when I saw the gun.

"Is that necessary?" I whispered.

"Hopefully not," he said, tucking it into his jacket. "But I prefer to be prepared."

We walked toward the lighthouse, our footsteps crunching on the gravel path. The wind whipped my hair around my face, carrying the salt smell of the ocean. Every shadow seemed to move, every sound made me jump.

The door to the lighthouse creaked as Leo pushed it open. Inside, it was even darker. Leo pulled out a flashlight, the beam cutting through the blackness. The spiral staircase stretched up into darkness, but we needed to go to the keeper's room at the base.

"This way," I whispered, leading him to a door on the left.

The keeper's room was small and dusty. Old furniture was covered in sheets, and cobwebs hung from the ceiling. I went to the corner where I remembered my father kneeling that day.

"Here," I said, dropping to my knees.

Leo helped me pull up the loose floorboards. Underneath was a metal box, just as I remembered. But as I reached for it, Leo grabbed my wrist.

"Wait," he said sharply.

He shone his flashlight around the box. A thin wire was attached to one corner, nearly invisible.

"It's rigged," he said grimly. "Someone knew we were coming."

My blood turned cold. "How?"

"Step back," Leo ordered.

He carefully examined the wire, following it with his flashlight. His movements were precise, practiced. This wasn't the first time he had dealt with something like this.

"It's a simple alarm system," he said finally. "Not a bomb. Whoever set this wants to know when we take the box."

"So they're watching us?" I asked, fear creeping up my spine.

"Or they will be soon," Leo said.

He carefully disconnected the wire, then lifted the box out. It was heavier than I expected, and locked with an old-fashioned padlock.

"We need to leave. Now," Leo said, tucking the box under his arm.

We hurried back through the lighthouse, but as we reached the door, Leo suddenly pushed me back against the wall, his hand over my mouth.

Through the broken window, I saw flashlights approaching. Three, maybe four people were walking up the path toward the lighthouse.

Leo's eyes met mine in the darkness. He removed his hand from my mouth and whispered directly in my ear, "Back door. Run when I say."

My heart was racing so fast I could barely breathe. Leo peered around the corner, watching the approaching lights. They were getting closer.

"Now," he whispered.

We ran through the lighthouse to the back door. It was stuck, rusted shut from years of salt air. Leo slammed his shoulder against it once, twice, and it burst open. We stumbled out onto the rocks behind the lighthouse.

"This way," Leo said, grabbing my hand.

We ran along the cliff edge, the ocean crashing below us. Behind us, I heard shouts. They had found the open back door.

Leo pulled me behind a large rock formation, and we crouched there, breathing hard. The metal box was still clutched under his arm.

"They're between us and the car," I whispered.

Leo nodded, his mind clearly working through options. Then he pulled out his phone and sent a quick text.

"Backup?" I asked hopefully.

"Better," he said. "A distraction."

Moments later, a car alarm started blaring from the parking area. Not Leo's car, but another one I hadn't noticed before. The shouts changed direction, heading toward the sound.

"Smart," I breathed.

"I had Andrew park a second car earlier," Leo explained. "Just in case."

Andrew. His assistant. The one who had been arguing with him last night.

We waited until the voices were distant, then made our way carefully back to Leo's car. He started the engine but kept the lights off as we pulled away. Only when we were a mile down the road did he turn on the headlights.

"That was too close," I said, my hands still shaking.

"They were expecting us," Leo said, his jaw clenched. "Someone told them we were coming."

"But only you and I knew," I protested.

"And Andrew," Leo said quietly. "I had to tell him about the second car."

The implication hung between us. Could Andrew be the spy?