I click to the floor plan.
“Five men follow our tunnel route and start the interior sweep once the generator is down. Hallways, staircases, rotating patrols. No gunfights, no noise. Slow, clean, and silent.”
Marko runs a thumb over the east wing.
“Shift change is at one in the morning. Half of them will be eating or half-asleep. That’s when we move.”
Adrien’s voice drops lower. Focused. “The last three block the main road. No explosions unless they’re spotted. Silent takedowns only. If reinforcements come, they don’t make it to the gate.”
The tension in my spine loosens by a fraction. Twenty-one against forty. If every move is silent? Yes. We can wipe the whole estate before they understand the power’s out.
Adrien nods, processing.
I tilt my head. “Where would he keep her?”
Marko doesn’t hesitate. “South wing. Second floor. Small windows. It’s where he keeps himself and anything valuable.”
My fingers tighten around the edge of the desk.
“Kas,” Adrien says carefully, “when we find her, don’t run in alone. Don’t go blind.”
“I won’t,” I lie.
Marko swallows. “Lucien won’t kill her, I think. His father might, but I don’t think he stays at this property anymore.”
My head snaps to him. He lifts his hands, palms up. “Not yet, at least. Lucien is just a full-time daddy’s boy, you give him too much credit, to be honest. His father is the real psychopath. He likes to break people the long way.”
The room freezes. Even the screens seem to flicker more quietly.
Adrien turns to me. “How’s your head?”
I clench my jaw. “Don’t ask me that again,” I shoot my eyes to his waist. “How’s your wound?”
“Don’t ask me that,” he snaps back at me.
Kiara
Four weeks earlier
I can’t feel my legs. Or my hands.
Panic shoots through me like an injection, violent and sudden, and my eyes snap open as I drag in a breath like I’m still drowning in that river.
A harsh white light explodes behind my eyelids, stabbing straight into my skull. I force them open again, slower this time, and my blurry vision fills with long, pale strands of hair hanging over me.
White hair. Too white. Not natural.
My heart slams against my ribs so fast I’m sure I’m about to pass out again.
This feels like sleep paralysis. That primal, frozen terror of waking up with a demon sitting at the edge of my bed.
Small gasps break from my throat, thin and broken, but none of this feels real. It’s like a nightmare inside another nightmare.
I try to breathe. I already did this once. I already woke up like this.
Kasien. Where is Kasien?
I’m not in his manor. This place smells different. Sterile and cold, and there’s a metallic taste coating my tongue, as if someone poured iron straight down my throat. I shut my eyes tightly, give myself a single second, then force them open again. The world tilts, then settles just enough for shapes to form.
