THE ASHES OF PROMISE: HOW A BROKEN FAMILY RECLAIMED ITS SOUL FROM THE BRINK

Elena yanked the passenger door of the police cruiser open and threw herself inside, slamming it shut behind her just as Vance hit the gas.

“Are you hurt?” Vance asked, glancing sideways at her as he navigated the cruiser through the slick, rain-drenched streets. He wiped a smear of blood from his lip with the back of his hand.

“I’m fine,” Elena panted, her chest heaving as she dropped the pocket watch and the photograph onto the console between them. “Amanda was just in that car. She gave me an ultimatum: help her, or watch my dad lose everything.”

Vance looked down at the photograph of Sean bound in the basement. His expression turned grim. “She’s bluffing about the prison part, but the danger to your father is real. Marcus Thorne doesn't leave loose ends.”

“Where are we going?” Elena asked, watching the city blur past the rain-streaked window.

“We’re going to the one place Amanda’s syndicate doesn't control: the old industrial harbor district. Your mother owned a decommissioned grain silo down there. She used it to store physical copies of every transaction Amanda ever forged.”

Ten minutes later, the cruiser bounced down a gravel road lined with rusting shipping containers and towering cranes that loomed like prehistoric skeletons against the stormy sky. Vance killed the headlights a hundred yards away from a massive, corrugated metal warehouse bearing the faded logo of Vane Logistics.

They stepped out into the biting wind. Elena pulled her purple knit sweater tight around herself, shivering as they crept toward a side personnel door.

Vance pulled a set of heavy-duty lockpicks from his pocket, but before he could touch the keyhole, the heavy metal door swung open on its own with a slow, eerie screech.

Inside, the cavernous space was illuminated by a single overhead work light casting a harsh circle on the concrete floor. Standing right in the center of that light, holding a thick manila folder, was a tall, imposing figure in a charcoal grey suit.

It wasn't Marcus Thorne. It was Sean.

He slowly turned around to face them, his expression completely blank, holding out the manila folder like an offering.

“Dad?” Elena whispered, stepping past Vance. “What are you doing here?”

Sean looked at her with hollow eyes, his voice flat and emotionless as he spoke his next words.