Chapter 6 – The Ones Who Run
The city seemed to hold its breath after Myra vanished.
The moment the Attorney General issued the warrant, her estate was raided. Offices closed. Security swept. But the woman who once towered over courts and campaigns had evaporated like mist—leaving behind luxury silence and digital ghosts.
Amara watched the news from the safehouse couch, the glow of the TV flickering across her face.
"She planned this," she said quietly. "She always plans everything."
Elias stood nearby, arms folded, brows furrowed. "She had help. No one escapes that fast alone."
Mason was already tapping away on his laptop. "Confirmed. Her private jet filed a fake flight plan. She's not in the country. My guess? She's somewhere without extradition laws."
Liana scoffed. "Of course she is."
Amara got to her feet. "So what do we do? Just let her vanish? Let her win again?"
"No," Elias said. "We make her run out of places to hide."
They got to work.
Mason tracked financial leaks—money funneled through shell companies in Mauritius, the Caymans, and the Balkans. Liana reached out to international journalists. Elias made contact with legal teams overseas. And Amara... she found herself diving into old letters from West Solarin.
She kept them in a worn brown envelope.
Each page was written in ink, elegant cursive that smelled faintly of hibiscus oil.
*"If truth is the match," West had once written, "then justice is the fire. But fire needs breath, Amara. You must breathe."
"She knew," Amara whispered, sitting by the window. "She always knew who Myra really was. She was trying to protect me."
Elias entered quietly, watching her.
Then Mason burst through the door.
"I've got her."
Everyone froze.
"She slipped through Dubai using a diplomat contact, but she's in Istanbul now. She booked a penthouse under a new alias. But a private security firm—real shady types—just transferred funds to a local group for protection."
"She's buying time," Elias said.
Amara stood. "Then let's cut it short."
Liana blinked. "You're not serious."
"I am," Amara said. "We go there. We bring back proof. We talk to someone she trusts—get them to turn. If she's going to run, I'll be the one chasing."
Elias was quiet for a long time. Then: "We do this carefully. No surprises."
Mason was already pulling up tickets. "We can be on the ground in twelve hours."
As they packed, Amara reached into her coat pocket and slipped one of West's letters inside. Just in case.
That night, as the plane soared into the dark, Amara looked out the window.
Once she had run from everything. Now, she was running toward it.
The lioness wasn't hiding anymore.
She was hunting.Istanbul smelled of roasted chestnuts, exhaust fumes, and something older—stone and history, the kind that settled deep into your bones.
Amara stepped off the plane with a knot in her stomach that had nothing to do with the flight. This wasn't a trip. It was a mission. One she didn't know if she'd walk away from.
They moved carefully—no names at check-in, no digital trails. Mason had secured burner phones. Liana had updated their cover identities. Elias made contact with a local legal consultant who owed him a favor.
But even with all their planning, something felt off.
It started with the car that idled too long outside the hotel. Then the man at the café who never drank his coffee, just watched. The woman at the market who bumped into Amara and disappeared without a word.
"She knows we're here," Elias muttered.
"She always did," Amara replied.
That night, in the quiet of her hotel room, Amara opened West's letter again.
The last one.
Written days before her death.
It read only six words.
"Tell him. Don't trust anyone."
Amara stared at it like it might suddenly answer the questions burning in her chest. Who was him? Elias? Her father? Someone from West's past? Someone still alive?
She turned the paper over—nothing. But on impulse, she held it against the hotel lamp's light.
Faint lines appeared—hidden beneath the ink.
Coordinates.
Mason confirmed it within seconds. "It's an old estate. Abandoned. Rural Turkey. Myra bought it six years ago under a shell company."
"That's where she is," Amara whispered.
They moved at dawn.
The road was long and winding, lined with olive trees and scattered ruins. But when they reached the estate, it wasn't empty.
A man stood at the gate, armed but old—gray-bearded, sharp-eyed.
He looked at Amara and froze.
"You're West's girl," he said.
For some reason unknown Amara felt she has found her answer.
Amara stepped forward. "She told me to find you. She said, tell him… don't trust anyone."
His expression changed.
Slowly, he reached into his coat—not for a weapon, but for a folded photograph. It showed West, smiling, beside this man.
"My name is Michael," he said. "I was her partner. Once. And her protector. Until Myra drove a wedge between us."
Elias raised an eyebrow. "Then why are you still guarding her place?"
"Because Myra left something here," Michael said. "Something that could destroy her forever. West wanted it kept safe. She knew Amara would come for it. That's why she left you the message."
He turned and opened the gate.
"Come. It's time you learned everything."
Amara stepped cautiously through the iron gate, her heart racing faster with every step. Michael had led them through the overgrown yard to a secluded part of the estate. An old, crumbling stone building stood there—its windows boarded up, its doors long forgotten.
"It's here," Michael said, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of urgency. "I thought she'd come for it herself, but she was too late. Now it's yours."
Elias stood close, hands on his pocket. "What is it, exactly?"
Michael glanced at Amara before answering. "A ledger. It contains the full scope of Myra's operations—deals, bribes, alliances. And it's not just financial. There are names of people she's silenced. Blackmail. Everything."
Amara's breath caught in her throat. This was what West had protected. The key to bringing Myra down.
Michael moved closer to a set of old, rusted drawers. He unlocked one with a creak and pulled out a dusty leather-bound book. The moment he handed it to Amara, the weight of it felt like a promise. A heavy, dangerous promise.
"This is the last of it," Michael continued. "West had it hidden for years. She knew Myra would stop at nothing to get it, so she kept it out of sight. But now it's yours."
Amara turned the book in her hands, her fingers tracing the delicate gold lettering on the cover. "Why didn't you warn me sooner? West knew Myra was dangerous."
Michael's eyes darkened. "West knew more than you realize. She had her reasons for keeping things from you. But she also trusted you. Trusts you. This isn't just about Myra. It's about the people she's hurt, the families she's ruined. This is bigger than you think."
Liana, who had been standing silently at the back of the group, stepped forward. "So, what now? We expose it?"
Amara hesitated, her fingers still pressing against the cover. "No. We need to be careful. Exposing Myra could backfire. She'll twist it, make herself the victim. We need to build a case, get allies."
Elias nodded. "We need to find the right people. The ones Myra doesn't have in her pocket."
Michael gave a grim smile. "You're smarter than I gave you credit for. West would've been proud."
As they moved through the estate, making plans for the next steps, Amara couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. Michael had shown them the ledger, but his loyalty was unclear. He had helped West, but did that mean he was truly on their side?
The answers were buried in the past, hidden between the pages of the book, and Amara was determined to uncover them—no matter what it took.