Page 194 of Damsel in Disguise

I look away briefly toward the brightening horizon. “The lucky ones become useful. And the unlucky ones become prototypes.”

“What does it have to do with Ariella?”

“I need you to read the files first.”

“What. Does. It. Have. To. Do. With. Ariella?” he repeats impatiently, genuine anger radiating off him.

“She wasn’t supposed to attract the level of internal interest she’s attracted,” I say. “Being a Keinston kept her outside their reach for years.”

His eyes narrow.

“Then she became attached to someone already inside the system. The Dominion noticed. And so they found leverage.”

His expression darkens, realizing what I’m about to say.

“The homicides gave them something invaluable. A secret capable of destroying her reputation, her future, possibly her freedom if it surfaced in the wrong hands.”

“You think blackmailing is enough to make a Keinston cooperate?” he scoffs with dripping arrogance.

“Believe it or not, you’re not as invincible as you love to credit yourself for.”

His jaw ticks.

“Ariella doesn’t break the way most people do. Which makes her significantly more valuable. Which is why they’re interested in keeping her. To turn her into an asset.”

“What are they planning to do with her?” finally, a touch of genuine concern.

The voice modulator distorts the bitterness in my laugh. “The right question is how much of her will still be Ariella when they’re finished.”

His entire posture goes rigid.

“They don’t want her dead, Keinston. I’m reminding you again that they want ownership. And once they have it,” I continue quietly, “death becomes the kinder outcome.”

“So you’re telling me to mobilize an international corporation based on information from a man wearing a mask?” Asher takes a step towards me. “And not only that, but also weaponizing my sister for making me do his dirty work?”

“Check it for yourself if you still don’t believe me.”

A pause of hesitation, and then he takes it, but he doesn’t look down at it immediately.

He studies me instead, like the real threat is still standing in front of him and not in his hands.

Only after a moment does he glance at the screen and unlock it. The moment he does, something in his posture goes rigid almost imperceptibly.

I’ve deliberately placed whatever they had about Ariella before anything else.

I watch him scroll.

The glow of the screen reflects faintly off his face as classified layers of data unfold—names, dates, internal tags, containment notes, and recruitment histories that were never meant to exist outside the Dominion’s control systems.

He sniggers with dry amusement. “If whatever this is, is true, then either you’ve a death wish or you’re stupid enough to think you’re untouchable.”

“I’m just running out of time.”

“So you breached the infrastructure of this Triarch Dominion and handed me everything for Ariella,” he states.

“Yes.”

Another scroll. His jaw clenches, a vein ticking in his forehead.