The Threefold Secret

Chapter 14

On instinct, I pulled my gun from my waistband, my grip steady despite the tension.

"No, no, don’t shoot! Please don’t shoot!" The voice that emerged was surprisingly youthful, a stark contrast to his intimidating appearance.

He pulled off his mask, revealing a young man with curly hair and a fresh stubble. His brown complexion and youthful face, framed by wide, earnest eyes, told a story of someone far younger than he first appeared.

He extended his hands to help us up, his demeanor surprisingly gentle. "I’m Harris. And I know who you are."

He pointed directly at me. "You’re the detective who took down Mr. Rivers. I’m his pool boy, and I’m also investigating this mess, just like you."

Lila blinked, her curiosity piqued. "How old are you?"

"Nineteen. I want to be a detective someday," he answered with a mix of pride and humility.

Relief washed over me, tempered by caution. Despite his youth, he seemed earnest.

"How did you figure all this out? How did you recognize us?"

"I got wind of the ship’s arrival from a conversation Mr. Rivers had over the phone. I saw you both leaving the hotel I was staying at, so I followed you," he explained, his voice steady and full of conviction.

I flushed with embarrassment, realizing I hadn’t noticed the car tailing us.

"I took a taxi to keep a low profile. I assume you’re planning to track the lorries now? Please, let me come with you."

His pleading eyes met mine, filled with an earnest determination that was hard to ignore. Lila interjected with a protective tone, "No, sweetie. This is dangerous. You can’t just tag along."

"I know a lot about the underground drug scene from my time with Mr. Rivers. I can be useful. Trust me," Harris insisted, his eyes bright with a mixture of desperation and determination.

I sighed, weighing the risks. Reluctantly, I nodded. "Fine. But you need to keep a low profile and avoid getting in our way."

Harris’s face lit up with a mixture of relief and excitement. Despite his bulk, standing at about 6'2", he had an air of eagerness and compliance that was almost disarming. He nodded vigorously, his posture now more attentive and less imposing.

"Understood. I’ll do my best," he promised, his tone earnest.

He seemed more like a loyal puppy than a hardened operative, and as we moved towards my car, his youthful enthusiasm provided a surprising boost to our efforts.

---

Turning off the headlights, I guided the car through the quiet streets, Lila sitting tensely beside me while Harris kept a lookout from the backseat.

The darkness outside was nearly impenetrable, the only illumination coming from the distant glow of the lorries' taillights ahead of us.

"This feels wrong," Lila murmured, her voice low. "Won’t they notice a car following them?"

"They might," I admitted, keeping my voice steady. "Or they might assume we’re part of the operation. We’re not exactly standing out here."

For the next fifteen minutes, we trailed the convoy, tension mounting with every passing second. When the lorries finally came to a halt at another construction site, I pulled over, keeping a safe distance. The gates of the site creaked open, and one by one, the trucks rolled in under the watchful eyes of armed guards.

"We can’t follow them any further," I whispered, my mind racing as I surveyed the scene. "But why this building? Could this be their underground base?"

Harris leaned forward, his youthful face lit by the faint glow of the dashboard. "No, this site isn’t permanent. It’s part of the new cinema project Donovan Enterprises is working on. They’re using it as a temporary cover. This is bad, real bad. They could frame the CEO if they get caught."

A chill ran through me. The thought of Zane being unknowingly implicated in something so sinister made my stomach twist. "Zane has no idea what’s happening here. They’re using his construction site for drug trafficking. We have to warn him—he needs to shut it down and get the police involved."

Lila nodded, her expression serious. "Even if he is a jerk, he doesn’t deserve to be framed as a drug dealer."

The unease in my gut only grew stronger as I put the car in reverse, turning away from the site. "We should leave before anyone gets suspicious."

As we drove away, Harris spoke up, his voice polite but laced with curiosity. "Miss Nadia, Miss… um, what was your name again?"

Lila shot him a sharp look, clearly irritated. "For the hundredth time, it’s Lila! Not Layla, not Lylia—just Lila."

Harris chuckled softly, clearly enjoying riling her up. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. The roads felt too empty, the night too quiet. Something was off, and I didn’t want to risk staying at that hotel any longer.

"I’m driving back to the city," I announced, my tone leaving no room for argument. "It’s a three-hour ride, so both of you should try to get some rest. I have a bad feeling about staying here."

With that, I pressed the pedal, putting as much distance between us and that construction site as possible. The tension in the car was thick, and though we were heading away from the immediate danger, I couldn’t help but feel like we were driving straight into the eye of the storm.

---

An hour and a half into the drive, the tension of the night still hung in the air like a thick fog. Both Harris and Lila were deep asleep, their breaths steady in the backseat. I suddenly remembered that my phone had been off the entire time.

Reaching into the backseat, I fumbled around until my hand brushed against it, picking it up from where it had slipped to the floor.

As I continued driving, I unlocked the screen, my eyes flicking between the road and the device. A flood of missed notifications greeted me, but one in particular stood out—texts from 'stalker'

"Nadia, do not go after them!" one message read. Another, sent shortly after, made my stomach twist. "Nadia, get out of the hotel."

Before I could think too deeply about it, a breaking news alert popped up on my screen. My breath caught as I read the headline: "A.P.H Hotel Bombed, 25 Dead, 32 Injured."

My blood ran cold, and my grip on the steering wheel tightened involuntarily. My heart pounded in my chest, and my hand slipped from the phone, the device falling onto my lap as I instinctively slammed on the brakes. The car screeched to a halt, jerking both Harris and Lila awake with a start.

"What’s going on?" Lila asked, her voice groggy with sleep.

The words blurred as I tried to process what I was seeing. The A.P.H Hotel—the same hotel where Lila and I had been staying—had been bombed.