5
Selene walked out of Elliot Grayson's office with her mind racing. It wasn't just Victor. That meant there were others—people who had wanted Adrian silenced, people who had been part of framing him, of orchestrating his death.
Elliot had looked terrified. He had practically shoved her out of his office, not because he didn't care, but because he knew exactly how dangerous this was.
That only confirmed one thing: She was on the right track.
The elevator doors slid shut, and she leaned against the back wall, inhaling deeply. If Adrian's death wasn't part of the original plan, that meant someone had panicked. Someone had decided that keeping him alive was too risky.
That was the person she needed to find.
The second she stepped onto the street, she pulled out her phone and dialed.
Damian picked up on the second ring. "Tell me you've got something."
She didn't bother with pleasantries. "I need you to pull every record you can from Westford Prison. Visitors, guards, financial transactions—anything that seems off."
There was a pause. Then, a low whistle. "So it's bigger than Langley, huh?"
"Much bigger."
"Shit." A sound of movement on his end, then a soft chuckle. "You really know how to make a guy's life difficult."
Selene tightened her grip on the phone. "You're the one who wanted a trade. I got you a name. Now, I need you to do your part."
"Relax, sweetheart." Damian's voice was smooth, teasing, but there was an edge to it. "I'll find what you need. Just don't get yourself killed before I do."
She hung up without answering.
She had no intention of dying before this was over.
The Visit
Selene spent the next three hours at a coffee shop, going over her notes, cross-referencing articles, financial reports, and old case files. Every road led back to Victor Langley. But if Elliot was right, Victor hadn't been acting alone.
Which meant she was missing something.
A piece of the puzzle.
Her phone buzzed. Maya.
Selene exhaled and answered.
"Please tell me you're not doing what I think you're doing," Maya's voice came through the line, sharp with concern.
Selene hesitated. "That depends. What do you think I'm doing?"
There was a sigh on the other end. "You're trying to take down Victor Langley, aren't you?"
Silence.
Then, Maya groaned. "Jesus, Selene. He's dangerous."
"I know."
"Then stop before you get yourself killed."
Selene rubbed her temple. "I can't, Maya. Adrian didn't kill himself. And it wasn't just Victor who set him up. There's more."
A pause. Then, more quietly, "You really believe that?"
Selene's jaw tightened. "I don't believe it. I know it."
Maya was quiet for a long moment. Then, reluctantly, she said, "Okay. What do you need?"
Selene's chest tightened. Despite all her protests, Maya was still here. Still willing to help.
"Find out who's still talking to Victor," she said. "I need to know who's in his circle."
Maya sighed again. "I can try. But please, Selene… be careful."
Selene didn't make promises she couldn't keep.
A Name from the Dead
Damian called that night.
"You're not going to like this," he said instead of greeting her.
Selene leaned against the kitchen counter, gripping her phone tightly. "Tell me."
There was the sound of a lighter flicking open on his end, a pause as he inhaled, then—"Your boy Adrian had a visitor a week before he died."
Selene's breath caught. "Who?"
"Roger Stanton."
She felt the blood drain from her face.
Roger Stanton.
A high-profile defense attorney. One of the best. Expensive, untouchable, only taking cases that guaranteed him a win. He had never worked with Adrian.
So why the hell had he visited him in prison?
She forced herself to stay calm. "Do you know what they talked about?"
Damian scoffed. "What do you think? They don't exactly record private attorney-client conversations."
"But Adrian wasn't his client," she shot back.
A pause. Then, Damian said, "Exactly."
Selene's mind spun. Why would a lawyer like Stanton visit Adrian if he wasn't representing him?
There was only one reason she could think of.
Someone had sent him.
A Late-Night Break-In
Selene knew that if she wanted answers, she had to move fast.
Roger Stanton's office was in the heart of the city—a sleek, modern building, all glass and steel, meant to intimidate. He wouldn't just hand over information if she asked. And if he was involved in whatever had happened to Adrian, he wouldn't tell her the truth.
That left one option.
She had to break in.
Selene had never done anything illegal before. She wasn't a criminal. But desperation made people bold.
She parked two blocks away, dressed in black, her hair tied back in a tight ponytail. Her heart pounded as she approached the building, scanning the area. No security outside.
She had studied the layout earlier. The main doors would be locked, but the emergency exit on the side? That had a flaw. She had overheard a janitor complaining about it in a coffee shop weeks ago—how it sometimes didn't latch properly.
Selene reached for the handle, breath held.
It gave way.
She slipped inside, pressing against the wall as she listened for movement. Nothing.
Stanton's office was on the twelfth floor. Too high for cameras to be watching after hours. She took the stairs—her legs burned by the eighth floor, but she pushed forward.
When she reached the door to Stanton's office, she hesitated.
She had no key. But she did have a hairpin.
Her hands trembled as she bent the pin and slid it into the lock, twisting carefully. She had watched enough tutorials to know the basics.
Click.
The door swung open.
She stepped inside, heart hammering.
The office was pristine, expensive—mahogany desk, leather chairs, bookshelves lined with legal texts.
She moved quickly, scanning papers, drawers. Nothing useful.
Then, on the desk, she saw a tablet.
She powered it on. Password-protected.
Selene bit her lip. Think.
She glanced at a framed photo on the desk—a woman and a child. His wife and daughter.
Selene typed in the child's name. Incorrect.
The wife's name. Incorrect.
She frowned. What would he use?
Her eyes fell on a stack of papers beside the tablet. The top document was a letterhead with the logo of Langley Enterprises.
Her stomach twisted.
She typed in: Langley123
The screen unlocked.
Her pulse roared as she scrolled through files.
Then she saw it.
A folder labeled Hale Case—Final Directives.
Her hands shook as she opened it.
Inside were emails. Messages between Roger Stanton and an unknown sender.
One subject line stood out:
"Ensure Hale does not speak."
Selene's throat closed.
She clicked the message.
And when she saw the sender's name, her blood ran cold.
Because it wasn't Victor Langley.
It was someone else entirely.
Someone she had never suspected.
Someone who had been close to Adrian.
Someone who had played both sides.
She barely registered the sound of footsteps in the hallway until it was too late.
The door creaked open.
And a voice said, "Well, well. Look who's been busy."
Then everything went black.