The drive back was suffocating in its silence. The city blurred past them, neon lights streaking through the rain-streaked windshield, but Amelia barely registered any of it. Her grip on the steering wheel was tight, her knuckles turning white with the force of it.
Celeste sat beside her, quiet, withdrawn. The crack on her wrist felt like it was burning now, even though she knew it wasn't. It was just her mind playing tricks on her. Right?
She swallowed, stealing a glance at Amelia, at the way her shoulders were tense, her jaw locked. She had never seen Amelia this angry before—not just angry, but… hurt.
Celeste hesitated before speaking. "Are we going to talk about it?"
Amelia let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Talk about what? That my father sabotaged us? That he's been watching our every move? What exactly do you want to talk about, Celeste?"
Celeste frowned. "What if he was trying to help?"
Amelia turned her head so fast Celeste thought she might snap something. "Help?" she repeated, voice sharp. "He locked us out of the one place that might've had answers, Celeste."
"I know." Celeste tightened her fingers in her lap. "But what if he did it because the people inside that warehouse really were after me?" She hesitated, voice quieter now. "What if he wasn't trying to stop us—what if he was trying to protect us?"
Amelia exhaled sharply and looked back at the road, shaking her head. "You're giving him too much credit."
Celeste didn't answer. She wasn't sure why she was defending Nathaniel, but something in her gut told her this wasn't as black and white as Amelia wanted it to be.
When they reached the apartment, Amelia threw the car into park and got out without a word. Celeste followed, shutting the door behind her. The second they were inside, Amelia turned, arms crossed, frustration radiating from her.
"I don't care what he says," she bit out. "Even if he thinks he's protecting us, it doesn't change the fact that he's keeping things from us."
Celeste rubbed her arms, trying to push away the cold that had settled into her bones. "But what if he's right?"
Amelia shook her head. "No. We're not doing this. We are not trusting him." Celeste opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Amelia's phone buzzed. A call from an unknown number.
She hesitated, then answered. "What?" There was a pause. Then—
"You should've listened." Nathaniel's voice. Amelia's eyes darkened. "What do you want?" His sigh was quiet. "To keep you safe." Amelia clenched her jaw. "By locking us out?"
"By keeping you from making a mistake you can't come back from."
Celeste took a cautious step closer, pulse quickening. "Nathaniel, tell us the truth."
Nathaniel was silent for a moment before his voice softened. "Celeste, you are running out of time." Amelia swallowed hard. "What does that mean?" Nathaniel hesitated, then said carefully, "The painting was never the key to saving her."
A heavy silence fell over the room. Celeste's heart pounded. "Then what is?"
Nathaniel hesitated again. Then, his voice was quieter, more urgent. "You need to come with me." Amelia immediately stiffened. "Not a chance." "I don't have time to argue," Nathaniel said. "If you want the truth—if you want to save her—you need to meet me. Now." Celeste's breath caught in her throat. She turned to Amelia, seeing the war behind her eyes, the conflict raging beneath her anger.
Then Nathaniel said the one thing that made the decision for them.
"You don't have to trust me. But if you love her, Amelia… you'll come."
The line went dead.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. The air between them was thick, pulsing with tension. Celeste's hands trembled as she lowered them to her sides, looking at Amelia.
"He knows something," she whispered.
Amelia pressed a hand over her eyes, exhaling sharply. "I hate this," she muttered. "I hate that he's involved. I hate that he's right."
Celeste's chest tightened. "Then let's go."
Amelia's jaw clenched. Then, reluctantly, she grabbed her keys off the counter. "Fine."
Celeste exhaled in relief. But underneath it, deep and gnawing, was something else entirely.
Fear.
Because Nathaniel's voice had carried something she hadn't heard before.
Not just urgency.
Finality.