Leo didn't reach for it immediately. He studied it first, then the men.
"What's inside?"
"Insurance," the man said simply. "Your father asked for it years ago. I imagine he didn't tell you that."
For a moment, Leo said nothing. Wind blew between them, cold and sharp, carrying the metallic scent of the docks. His jaw tightened. "Insurance for what?"
The man's expression didn't change. "For what's coming," he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. "You already know something is moving beneath the surface. Your father probably hoped you would never have to open it."
Leo's chest felt tight. Of course he did. His father had always preferred secrets over explanations, riddles over truth. "And you're just handing it to me?" he asked. "No questions asked?"
"I don't deal in questions," the man said. "Only delivery."
Leo frowned. "You work for him?"
"I used to," he replied. As if just remembering the cigarette between his fingers, he placed it between his lips. One of his men stepped forward and lit it. The flame flared briefly, catching the man's face.
Leo Thorne nodded slowly. Then he crouched and reached for the box. The metal was cold against his fingers, heavier than it looked, sealed with a dull silver latch. A faint scent of oil clung to it, the kind used in machines that hadn't run for years. Carrying it, he turned and walked away.
Behind him, engines rumbled to life. The men climbed into their vehicles and rolled out of the dockyard without another word. Within moments, their taillights disappeared into the mist.
Inside his car, the air felt colder than before. The only light came from the pale blue glow of the dash. He set the box on the passenger seat and started the engine.
For a moment, he just sat there, watching the steam rise from his breath. The seaport stretched behind him; cranes towering like metal skeletons, ships shifting quietly against the tide. Somewhere out there, a buoy light blinked in the dark, steady and patient.
He pressed his foot to the pedal. The tires rolled forward, and the seaport lights receded in the rearview mirror. The empty road opened ahead. It was slick, and quiet.
His mind wouldn't stop moving. Each thought pressed hard against the next: his father's warning, the attack, Elara's face as she said goodbye. None of it added up, and somehow it all did.
He gripped the steering wheel tighter. The leather creaked beneath his fingers. Exhaling slowly, he tried to steady the rush in his chest. The hum of the engine filled the silence, a low, steady sound that almost felt alive.
After a few minutes, he glanced at the box again. The dashboard light glinted faintly off its metal edges. Curiosity cut through the haze of anger.
He reached for it, flipping the latch open with a sharp click. The lid lifted easily. Inside, nestled in black foam, was a single flash drive.
Leo frowned. "This is it?" he muttered.
He picked it up. The drive felt warm from the box — or maybe from his hand. Its silver casing gleamed faintly in the dim light, small and unassuming. Something about it unsettled him — how ordinary it looked.
He glanced at the laptop lying closed on the passenger seat. He had been using it for research earlier that day, trying to piece together what he could. Hesitating, he opened it. The screen's glow caught his face, carving shadows beneath his eyes.
Leo plugged in the flash drive.
The screen flickered once, then a small window appeared.
"Decrypting file…" A loading bar crept upward.
He leaned back, his eyes flicked between the screen and the dark road ahead.
The highway stretched out like a strip of ink, broken only by the pale sweep of headlights. Street signs flashed past, their letters smearing into silver streaks. Now and then, a gust of wind crossed the asphalt, carrying dust and scraps of paper that spun briefly in the light before vanishing again.
The wipers scraped softly against the glass, smearing the faint drizzle that had begun to fall. The air smelled of rain and salt.
The numbers ticked slowly upward — 12%… 27%… 41%… 68%… 84%…
Each second felt longer than the last. His heartbeat synced with the steady climb of the bar. His mind wandered back to his father at his desk, cigarette smoke curling in the dark; to Elara's hand gripping his when she thought he was dying; to the voice that whispered he wasn't supposed to survive.
He swallowed hard. His fingers tightened on the wheel. The hum of the tires against the road felt distant now, like a memory.
91%… 95%… 97%…
The city lights faded behind him. Streetlamps thinned until there were none, only the twin beams of his headlights slicing through the dark. The landscape outside was nothing but shadow and movement with the faint glint of guardrails and the suggestion of hills beyond.
98%…
A deep sound broke through the engine's hum.
Leo's eyes flicked left.
A bright light flashed from the left
He didn't even have time to swerve.
The truck slammed into the car throwing Leo sideways. His shoulder crashed against the door, and the seatbelt locked, crushing air from his lungs. Glass burst across the dashboard, scattering in a spray of white sparks.
The sound was deafening — metal folding into metal, the high scream of impact, the hollow thud of something breaking deep within the car.
Then, silence.
Smoke curled through the cabin, thick with petrol and burnt rubber. Headlights flickered weakly against the guardrail.
Leo's fingers twitched on the wheel. His breath came short and uneven as blood traced a thin line down his temple.
He tried to speak — to curse, to call for help — but no sound came. Only a shallow gasp escaped, thin and fading.
On the floor, the laptop's cracked screen blinked faintly. The flash drive stayed plugged in.
99%… 100%.
The bar vanished, and some words appeared on the screen.
DECRYPTION COMPLETE.
Outside, wind hissed through the wreckage and carried the faint breath of the sea. Petrol dripped, tracing silver threads across the asphalt.
The truck was gone. The highway lay empty.
Leo's head slumped to the side. His eyes stayed open, fixed on the dark.