CHAPTER 8: The Silent Witness
By sunrise, we were at the site. Flames had been put out, but charred beams and blackened walls stood as a warning. Workers stood in clusters, scared and uncertain. Victor walked among them, speaking quietly, promising full pay, extra security, and that the project would finish on time.
I noticed an old man standing apart, watching us from behind a stack of lumber. He flinched when I approached, like he expected to be hit.
“I saw who did it,” he whispered when I stopped beside him. “Three men. They wore masks… but one of them had a mark on his hand. A black rose tattooed between his thumb and forefinger. And I heard them say ‘Thorne will be pleased.’”
I took him straight to Marcus. When he repeated what he’d said, Victor’s jaw tightened.
“Elias always used the black rose as his symbol,” he said quietly. “I thought he’d abandoned it. But he’s been here all along.”
We spent the next three days pulling every record we had on Elias Thorne—bank accounts, property deeds, old associates. Most led nowhere, erased or buried deep. But one name kept appearing: Lena Thorne, his sister, who’d died in a car crash fifteen years earlier.
“Her death was never investigated properly,” Marcus said, sliding a file across the desk. “Police called it an accident. But witnesses said a black truck forced her off the road. The same kind of truck that’s been seen circling your house, Mia.”
Victor went still. “If Elias thinks he’s avenging her… he’s wrong. I tried to help her. I tried to warn her Elias was pulling her into things that would get her killed.”
“Then we need to find him,” I said. “And tell him the truth.”
