The Storm

HARDIN'S POV

By the time I made it back to the office, my hands had stopped shaking, but the tension sat heavy on my shoulders like armor I couldn’t remove. The glass-paneled tower that bore the Richards name stood like a monolith against the city skyline, polished and gleaming, as if nothing could touch it. As if nothing inside it could be broken. A lie. A damn good one, but a lie nonetheless.

I walked through the lobby with purpose, nodding at the receptionist without hearing what she said. My mind buzzed. The echo of screeching tires and dark glass still haunted me, a phantom draped behind my every step.

I hit the elevator button and slipped inside, pressing the code for the top floor. Alone now, I leaned back against the mirrored wall and let the silence swallow me. Not the kind of silence that comforts. The kind that presses in around you. Claustrophobic. Demanding. Full of thoughts I didn’t want to confront.

Vera would know what to do.

She always did.

When the doors slid open, she was already there. Like she sensed I would need her.

Tall, sharp, and poised in a fitted slate-gray dress, Vera didn’t wait for me to speak. She took one look at me and closed the office door behind us.

"Talk," she said simply, voice calm but firm.

I walked past her, tossing my keys on the table, loosening my tie like it was strangling me. Maybe it was.

"Carter called," I began, pacing. "He looked into the file. Project Seraphim. Blackthorn Institute."

Her eyes narrowed with immediate attention. "And?"

"They don’t exist. Not anymore. If they ever did. Scrubbed clean. Like someone wanted me to chase my tail. Like someone wanted me to see it, then doubt it."

I turned to her, my voice harder now. "He said it was a decoy. Said someone wants me distracted while they move behind the scenes."

She didn’t flinch. Not even a blink.

"Then someone’s afraid of what you might do if you weren’t distracted," she said simply.

"That’s not even the worst part," I added, jaw tight. "I was followed. Black SUV. Tinted windows. No plates. They tailed me from The Grand Echelon all the way into the industrial sector."

Vera stiffened now, her perfectly painted nails curling into her palm. "Did you get a look at them?"

"No. But they wanted me to know they were there. I turned on them. We stared each other down, and then they vanished. Like ghosts."

She was silent for a beat. Then walked to my desk and perched on the edge, arms crossed, eyes locked on mine.

"You knew this would happen, Hardin."

I blinked. "Did I?"

"You’re not just some assistant anymore. You’re the golden son of the Richards family. Found after years of mystery. Years of silence. There are people who built empires on the idea that you were never coming back. There are vultures who feasted while you were missing. And now you’re here. Alive. Claiming what was always yours. They’re not going to celebrate you. They’re going to come for you."

Her words hit like a punch, but she didn’t stop.

"You’re a threat, Hardin. And threats get watched. Threats get erased."

I exhaled through my nose, moved to the window, watching the streets below swell with people. Ants from this height. Clueless to the war playing out in the towers above them.

"You think this is just the beginning," I said, more a statement than a question.

"I know it is," Vera replied. She stood and walked toward me, heels clicking softly on the marble. "But I also know you. And I know what you’re capable of. You learned to survive long before you knew who you were. Now you’re in the lion’s den with your own teeth bared. They should be afraid."

I looked at her then. Really looked. At the way her eyes sparked with fire and certainty. At the way her hand reached out, resting gently on my shoulder like an anchor.

"You don’t have to do this alone," she said, her voice softer now. "I’m here. I’ve always been here. And I’m not going anywhere. You have Ariana."

My throat tightened. I hadn’t realized how much I needed to hear that until it was said.

I turned back to the window, my reflection barely visible in the glass.

"Someone wanted to rattle me. And maybe they did. But they should know something else. I don’t break."

"No," Vera said. "You rise. Even from fire. Even from ashes. Just like before."

I let out a slow breath.

"I need to know who was in that car," I muttered. "Not just for me. For Ariana. For the people counting on me."

Vera moved closer, her hand still steady on my shoulder.

"You will. Carter’s digging. So am I. I’ll put every contact I have on it. Someone slipped, Hardin. No matter how careful they were. No ghost stays hidden forever."

I nodded, but my chest still felt tight. Like the storm she spoke of was already here.

"Do you think I’ll survive it?" I asked, voice low.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t hesitate.

"Yes," she said fiercely. "Because you’re not just surviving. You’re fighting. And you’re not alone."

I closed my eyes briefly. Let that settle in.

A moment passed.

Then another.

The city kept humming below us, unaware of the storm brewing in boardrooms and alleys and glass towers.

When I opened my eyes again, something inside me had shifted. Not clarity. Not peace. But a decision.

They wanted to play games?

Fine.

I’d play.

But I wouldn’t play fair.

Vera squeezed my shoulder, reading the change in my posture without a word.

"Whatever it is," she said quietly, "we’ll face it. Together."

I gave a small nod, swallowing the lump in my throat.

Together.

I let the word settle in my mind, a fragile thread of hope in the chaos.

Then I pulled away from the window, walked to my desk, and opened the drawer where the file still lay.

Project Seraphim.

Blackthorn Institute.

Ghosts or not, someone had sent this to me for a reason.

Time to find out why.

"Get Carter on the line," I told Vera. "And tell him we’re not just digging now. We’re burning through the dirt. I want names. Faces. Bloodlines. I want to know who benefits if I disappear."

Vera gave me a sharp nod. "Done."

I met her gaze one last time.

"And Vera?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

Her smile was small, but fierce. "Always, Hardin."

The storm was here.

And I was walking straight into it.
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