Chapter 3 - cold trails
Lena pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, looking at Adrien with guarded confusion. "Why do you care about my mother?"
"Answer the question, Lena," Adrien said, stepping closer, his composure cracking for the first time in years. "Please."
"Her name was Clara," Lena whispered. "Clara Carter. She died in a car accident in upstate New York when I was fourteen. That's all I know."
Adrien turned the photograph toward Marco.
Marco glanced at the emerald serpent pendant and his face went completely pale. "Boss... that’s impossible. She disappeared twenty years ago. We buried an empty casket."
Adrien’s jaw tightened. "Her name wasn't Clara. It was Elena. Elena Viscari." He looked directly at Lena, his voice thick with an emotion he had buried for two decades. "That woman was my older sister."
Before Lena could process the shock, a sharp crack shattered the heavy silence.
A high-caliber bullet punched through the reinforced penthouse window, spiderwebbing the glass inches from where Lena sat.
Adrien moved on instinct, tackling Lena to the floor and shielding her entirely with his body as Marco drew his weapon and hit the alarm switch. Red emergency lights bathed the room.
"Sniper on the north roof!" Marco yelled into his radio, pulling the blackout curtains shut.
Adrien lifted his head, his hands steady on Lena’s shoulders. "You're not hurt. Look at me, Lena. You're fine."
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Lena was hyperventilating, staring at the shattered glass. "Marcus told me... he warned me that if I ever left him, the people who killed my mother would find me."
Adrien stood up, pulling her to her feet with cold resolve. "Marcus didn't save you from those people, Lena. He works for them."
