Whispers in the storm

As she left the room, a hand clamped down on her arm, pulling her into the shadows. She struggled, but a familiar voice stopped her.

"Eleanor, it's me."

She turned to see Nathaniel, battered and bruised but alive. Relief flooded through her, and she threw her arms around him.

"You're alive," she whispered, tears in her eyes.

"Not for long if we stay here," he said grimly. "Come on—we have to move."

As they fled the hotel, Nathaniel filled her in. "They're taking the notebook to their headquarters. If we don't intercept it, they'll destroy the evidence."

"Where is it?" she asked.

Nathaniel hesitated. "A private estate on the outskirts of the city. It's heavily guarded. Getting in won't be easy."

Eleanor's eyes hardened. "We don't have a choice."

Together, they disappeared into the night, ready to face whatever awaited them. They knew the road ahead would be dangerous, but they also knew that the truth was worth fighting for

—no matter the cost.