Chapter 96

Then, the Breakthrough

The forest finally opened into a clearing—a circle of stones, half-covered in moss. A single, twisted tree stood at the center like a guardian of unsaid things. Beneath it was a wooden hatch, almost invisible unless you were looking.

“Holy crap,” I whispered.

Joe crouched and brushed the moss aside. “We found it.”

Mylene leaned on her walking stick. “If there are ghosts down there, I am leaving. I’ll burn this mountain and never come back.”

Jhing Jhing rolled up her sleeves. “No, babe. We came this far. Let’s go mess with destiny.”

Joe’s men set up a perimeter. Drones buzzed above, casting shadows across the old hatch. I knelt, hand shaking just slightly, and lifted the rusted lock.

It snapped open too easily.

Too eagerly.

Joe and I exchanged a look. “You first,” he said.

“Ladies first,” I shot back.

He grinned. “You’re a terror, Catherine.”

“And you’re expendable, Joe.”

Below: The Vault Beneath the Forest

We climbed down one by one, the narrow ladder creaking with every step. My boots hit stone. Cold. Damp. Old.

My flashlight flickered across walls etched in symbols—some mine, some older. Boxes. Shelves. And in the center, a table with items laid out like an altar.

Photos. Old ones.

A locket.

A child’s sweater.

Bones.

I froze. My chest tightened. My sister’s name carved into the stone behind it. I staggered back.

Jhing Jhing caught me. “It’s her, isn’t it?”

“She was here… the whole time.”

Joe turned, face grim. “This is more than a vault. This is a grave.”

And beside it—a second hatch. Locked.

Joe examined the keypad. “Catherine. Try Leon’s birthdate.”

I did.

It opened.

Inside: The Final Puzzle

Files. Tapes. Maps. A journal.

My father’s handwriting.

“She was not supposed to die. She wasn’t supposed to be alone. I had to lie. For her. For your mother. For you.”

The secrets weren’t gold or diamonds.

They were names. Deals. Blackmail. Letters between Catherine’s father—my father—and Dorothy’s.

And now, they were ours.

“This,” Joe said softly, “changes everything.”

Mylene sniffled. “Okay, this was not what I packed my sexy underwear for.”

Jhing Jhing pulled out a notepad. “We’re going to need coffee. And maybe a lawyer.”

I stared at the journal.

We weren’t just dealing with murder.

We were dealing with a legacy.

One buried deep in the mountain… but not anymore.

And tomorrow?

We’d bring the whole damn truth back with us.

With sass. With receipts. With war paint and maybe a glitter bomb.

It happened so fast.

One moment we were reading the cursed journal of the man who ruined a dozen lives with one pen stroke, and the next—

“Drop your weapons!” someone roared from above.

We looked up to the rim of the stone clearing.

Guns.

Men.

Dozens of them. All in tactical black like they thought they were in a poorly budgeted spy movie. And in the center of it all?

Dorothy.

Her blond hair pulled back into a tight bun, her heels entirely inappropriate for mountain terrain, and her expression as smug as a spoiled snake in silk.

“I told you to stay out of this, Catherine,” she called, smiling like she wasn’t about to murder us. “But no. You had to dig. You had to remember.”

I raised my hands, stepping forward. “Dorothy, you’re wearing white. You know what happens to villains in white, right?”

Mylene muttered, “That blouse is about to get a plot twist.”

Then came the chaos.

Gunfire exploded around us like angry thunder. Joe shoved me to the ground just as a bullet tore past my cheek, grazing skin and pride. His men reacted fast, but not fast enough. The first two were hit instantly, collapsing with clean shots through the chest. The third returned fire—took down two of theirs before a sniper bullet spun him into the dirt.

“COVER!” Joe shouted, dragging himself behind a fallen tree, clutching his side. Blood bloomed through his shirt like a terrible rose.

Mylene screamed as a man grabbed her by the hair, yanking her upright and shoving a gun to her neck.

“Drop it!” Dorothy barked. “Drop everything or your little lip-glossed friend gets a hole in her face!”

“Mylene!” Jhing Jhing cried.

Mylene, to her eternal credit, rolled her eyes. “This blouse is vintage, asshole.”

My blood was fire. My pulse a war drum.

I rose slowly. Hands up. “You want the files, Dorothy? Take them. Take all of it. But let her go.”

Dorothy walked forward, heels crunching on forest grit. “Oh, I don’t care about the files anymore. I care about making sure none of you walk out of this forest alive.”

I looked at her. Really looked.

Eyes full of fury. Mouth full of lies. Shoulders heavy with secrets.

“You killed your own father, didn’t you?” I whispered.

Dorothy twitched. Just enough for me to see it.

“I read the letters,” I continued. “He tried to stop this. You shot him. Then framed your cousin. Because dead men don’t ruin your business, do they?”

She aimed her pistol at me. “Shut. Up.”

But it was too late.

Joe, bleeding and pissed, hurled a smoke grenade from his belt with a flick of his wrist. It hit the ground with a hiss.

White mist swallowed everything.

Gunfire erupted again.

Chaos returned—louder this time. Mylene bit her captor’s hand and kicked him hard between the legs. The man screamed. Jhing Jhing used the butt of a fallen rifle to crack another’s skull with the elegance of a beauty queen turned berserker.

I tackled Dorothy. We rolled through mud and moss and secrets. Her gun fired once—twice—missing both times because rage made her sloppy and I was done being polite.

She clawed at my face.

I punched her in the throat.

Her eyes went wide. I grabbed the gun.

She headbutted me and scrambled up—but not fast enough.

Joe’s remaining strength surged as he raised his pistol and shot the man still trying to pull Mylene away.

Then the cliff.

Dorothy backed toward it, wild-eyed, panting, bleeding from her lip. “You think this ends with me?” she gasped. “You think I’m the only one?”