Chapter 5 - The Secret of Blackwood Manor
By three o'clock in the morning, the heavy rain had eased into a quiet, cold mist over New York.
Inside the private study, Adrian stood before a wall-mounted map of upstate New York. Beside him, Marco was loading high-capacity magazines into a tactical bag, while Teresa prepared a thermos of hot coffee for their journey.
"Blackwood Manor has been officially abandoned for twelve years, Adrian," Marco said, checking his watch. "Dominic Falcone’s men won't expect us to head there tonight."
"Julian left that word with Emma for a reason," Adrian replied, slipping his black suit jacket back over his broad shoulders. "He knows Falcone is watching the Brooklyn Maritime Deposit. The key isn't for a vault in the city—it’s for the private underground vault beneath Blackwood Manor."
Adrian walked over to the guest bedroom before leaving. Emma was fast asleep under a heavy wool blanket, Teresa sitting quietly in the armchair beside her holding a vigil.
Adrian looked down at his niece, a profound sense of duty settling over his chest. For six years he had lived as a ghost surrounded by power, believing his family bloodline was down to just him. Now, he had a brother to find and a niece to protect.
"Keep the estate on total lockdown, Teresa," Adrian instructed softly. "Nobody enters or leaves until Marco and I return."
"Bring Julian home, Adrian," Teresa said softly, her dark eyes filled with fierce hope. "Bring him home."
Forty-five minutes later, Adrian’s sleek black SUV tore through the dark, fog-covered mountain roads leading toward Blackwood Manor.
The estate appeared through the mist like a forgotten fortress. Built from dark stone in the late nineteenth century, the grand manor sat surrounded by overgrown pine trees and rusted iron fencing.
Marco parked the SUV three hundred yards away in the thick brush, keeping the headlights off.
They approached the front stone archway on foot, moving silently through the tall grass. Adrian held his sidearm low, his piercing blue eyes scanning the high windows for any sign of movement.
The heavy oak front doors were unlocked, swinging open with a low, rusty groan.
They stepped inside the grand foyer. Dust covered the floor, but as Adrian lowered his flashlight beam to the ground, he spotted fresh boot prints leading straight toward the main library.
Adrian and Marco moved stealthily down the corridor, stopping outside the heavy library doors.
Adrian pushed the door open, his weapon raised.
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The library was dim, but resting on the large mahogany desk in the center of the room was a small desk lamp casting a warm glow across scattered papers. Beside the lamp sat a ceramic coffee mug, faint steam still rising from the hot liquid into the chilly night air.
Someone had been sitting at that desk less than two minutes ago.
