Page 220 of Damsel in Disguise

The guards closest to the entrance exchange uncertain glances.

One reaches for the communicator clipped to his vest.

Static answers him. He tries again. Nothing.

“What have you done?” the Crown asks me.

I tilt my head ever so slightly. “Improved your design.”

His gaze drifts toward the security monitors.

By now, most display nothing but corrupted images and flashing warnings.

A few of them still function. One of them shows the central courtyard.

Men dressed in Dominion black drag another man across the stones before a second group opens fire on them.

Within seconds, neither remains standing.

Ariella lets out a small, frightened breath. I feel it against my hand. She’s also watching the monitor where men are killing one another beneath banners they once served.

“The eastern council,” I say quietly. “They discovered the western council had been selling classified research.”

Another monitor flickers to life—the archives.

Smoke pours from the entrance while armed men disappear into the building.

“The scientific division found out that military command intended to eliminate them after the Synthète project concluded.”

A third monitor—the financial sector. Bodies and blood are spreading across polished marble.

“The financiers are exposed—they had funded both operations.”

His silent attention never leaves the screens.

“You taught me information is power,” I continue. “You neglected to mention that information is also combustible.”

A slow laugh escapes him. It should sound unhinged. Instead, it sounds almost… pleased. “You dismantled your own empire, son.”

Ariella slowly turns her head towards me, trying to understand what’s going on. With all these things happening, I can’t really blame her.

She only understands the betrayal—that I lied.

She understands that the man she trusted brought her into the heart of the Dominion.

She cannot possibly understand that for a while I’ve been trying to tear it apart from within. She just happens to be the excuse, the push that I needed.

The laboratory doors shake from a heavy impact. Then another.

One of the guards looks back. “Sir—”

A third impact splinters the reinforced frame. Another explosion rolls through the estate.

Dust falls from the ceiling. The laboratory lights flicker.

A voice finally breaks through one of the radios of the guards inside. “They’re inside.”

Gunfire.