Chapter 7: The Collector

The room fell silent.

Everyone stared at the file in my hands.

'The Collector,' I repeated.

'Who is he?'

Detective Harris looked uncomfortable.

That alone was alarming.

'Nobody knows his real name.'

'Seriously?'

'Seriously.'

Harris placed several photographs on the conference table.

'For fifteen years, intelligence agencies, financial crime divisions, and private investigators have been trying to identify him.'

'And?' Adrian asked.

'Nothing.'

'Nothing?'

'No fingerprints.'

'No official records.'

'No confirmed photographs.'

'No legal identity.'

A chill ran down my spine.

'Then how do we know he exists?'

Harris pointed at the documents from Celeste's drive.

'Because dozens of criminals keep mentioning him.'

'They call him the Collector because he collects secrets.'

'What kind of secrets?'

'The kind that destroy governments.'

Nobody spoke.

The weight of the situation was finally becoming clear.

Marcus Monroe wasn't the real enemy.

Marcus was merely a piece on the board.

The Collector was the player moving the pieces.

'Why would Marcus run to him?' I asked.

'Protection,' Adrian replied immediately.

'And because he's desperate.'

'Exactly,' Harris agreed.

'The evidence from Celeste's drive can expose their entire network.'

I looked at Adrian.

'So what's the plan?'

'We stop Marcus before he reaches the island.'

'Simple.'

'Dangerous.'

'Insane.'

'Probably all three.'

For the first time, Harris actually smiled.

'Now you're thinking like Blackwood.'

Within an hour, preparations were underway.

Private aircraft.

Federal warrants.

Encrypted communications.

Everything moved at incredible speed.

Adrian seemed completely different now.

Focused.

Determined.

Alive.

The man who spent years chasing a ghost had finally found a target.

Unfortunately, not everyone in Blackwood Tower was loyal.

We discovered that later that evening.

Harris stormed into Adrian's office carrying a tablet.

'We found the leak.'

Everyone looked up.

'Who is it?' Adrian asked.

The detective placed the tablet on the desk.

Security footage appeared.

A woman entered Adrian's private archive room after midnight.

Copied files.

Sent messages.

Then left.

I recognized her immediately.

'Sophia Reynolds.'

Adrian's executive assistant.

'She's worked for you for four years.'

'Apparently she worked for Marcus longer.'

The betrayal hit hard.

Not because of Sophia.

Because it proved nobody could be trusted.

'Where is she now?'

'Gone.'

'Of course she is.'

'But we recovered her messages.'

Harris opened another file.

'Most of them were instructions.'

'From Marcus?'

'No.'

The detective looked grim.

'From the Collector.'

The room became silent again.

'You have direct messages from him?' I asked.

'Not exactly.'

'Then what?'

Harris enlarged the screen.

A single message appeared.

'Retrieve the drive.'

'If retrieval fails, eliminate Blackwood.'

'The wife is optional.'

I stared at the words.

'Optional?'

'Apparently I'm only slightly important.'

Adrian didn't laugh.

His face darkened instead.

'You're not optional.'

The words escaped before he could stop them.

Everyone in the room went quiet.

Including me.

Adrian looked away first.

The moment passed.

But not completely.

Because for the first time, I wasn't sure he saw me as merely a contract wife anymore.

Later that night, we boarded a private jet.

The destination:

The Caribbean.

The island.

The Collector.

The final chapter of a six-year nightmare.

Rain battered the aircraft as it climbed into the clouds.

I sat beside the window.

The teddy bear rested across from me.

Somehow it had survived gunfire, car chases, and corruption scandals.

At this point, it deserved its own passport.

'You're staring at it again,' Adrian said.

'I'm still angry at it.'

'It's a teddy bear.'

'It's the reason people are trying to kill us.'

'Fair point.'

For several minutes neither of us spoke.

The cabin lights dimmed.

Most passengers fell asleep.

Only Adrian remained awake.

Looking out into the darkness.

'You never stopped looking for her, did you?' I asked quietly.

He knew who I meant.

'No.'

'Even after six years?'

'No.'

The honesty no longer surprised me.

'What happens after this?'

His eyes found mine.

'After what?'

'After Marcus.'

'After the Collector.'

'After the secrets.'

He considered the question carefully.

'I don't know.'

'You hate that answer.'

'Very much.'

A small smile appeared.

Then disappeared.

The aircraft suddenly shook violently.

My stomach dropped.

'Turbulence?'

'No.'

Adrian was already standing.

'That's not turbulence.'

The plane lurched again.

Harder this time.

Warning lights flashed.

Passengers woke instantly.

An alarm sounded through the cabin.

'What now?' I asked.

Before Adrian could answer, the cockpit door burst open.

The co-pilot stumbled into the cabin.

His face was covered in blood.

'We've got a problem!'

No one needed him to explain.

The gunshot wound in his shoulder explained enough.

'Someone's taken control of the aircraft,' he gasped.

The words hit like a bomb.

'What?'

'The pilot is dead.'

Silence.

Absolute silence.

Then panic erupted.

People shouted.

Someone screamed.

The plane dropped several hundred feet.

Oxygen masks deployed.

Adrian grabbed my arm.

'Stay with me.'

'Please tell me this isn't the Collector.'

His expression said everything.

Because there was only one person powerful enough to arrange an assassination at thirty thousand feet.

And somewhere ahead of us, hidden on a private island in the Caribbean, the Collector was waiting.