Chapter Sixteen: The Dead Zone

The sensation of falling didn’t end with a bone-shattering crash. Hell No.

Though I felt pain at first. The second was warmth. For a moment, neither made sense. All I could remember was the deafening rip of Silas’s hand gripping mine. Then falling. Falling from the roof canopy of the high-end commercial delivery section nestled in the alley. And yes I could vividly remember us dropping onto a snow-covered bed.

My breath was completely knocked out of my lungs as my memory flickered open.

When I finally looked around to figure out where I was, I found myself lying in an impossibly large king-sized bed, wrapped in crisp, high-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets. The room was massive, designed with minimalist, high-end architecture—floor-to-ceiling glass windows that overlooked the glittering, snow-dusted skyline of the central financial district. The ceiling above me was made of dark wooden beams. A lantern hung from one of them, casting soft golden light across the room. The air smelling faintly of expensive white tea, jasmine, and polished marble.

I wasn’t dead. That realization alone freed something right inside my chest.

Before I could even blink, two men in sharp, tailored dark suits though not mercenaries, but Silas’s personal elite security. I could recognize their face. They dropped a glass of water and some medication down on the glass table close to me, clearly not realizing I was already awake, before leaving immediately and shutting the heavy door behind them.

I tried standing up. The room spun instantly.

“Don’t.”

The voice came from somewhere to my left.

It was familiar and as I turned, relief hit me like a physical blow. Silas was sitting in a dark leather chair right beside the bed. For a second, I was shocked because I hadn’t noticed him sitting there in the shadows.

His bruises had faded slightly, and it seemed he had already taken a shower. A fresh cut split his eyebrow, and his torn black sweater had been replaced with a simple green shirt. Yet somehow, he still looked annoyingly composed; as if we hadn’t just passed through the jaws of death.

“Lena..." I choked out immediately, my voice thick with panic as i remembered i hadn’t seen her since. “Elias... they were on the ledge..."

"My team is tracking them, Vienne," Silas muttered. "They are out of Victor’s line of sight. I promise you."

A small weight lifted from my shoulder. I looked around the room again. “Where are we?”

“A safe house.”

“Whose?” I asked.

He didn’t give me a reply.

Shockingly, I wasn’t even in the mood to fight him on it this time. I just frowned, letting the mystery slide as I slowly pushed the heavy duvet off my legs. The throbbing pain in my feet had subsided, replaced by clean, white medical bandages.

I stood up, my bare toes sinking into a plush, cream-colored cashmere rug. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I wasn't running. I walked into the adjoining master bath, a sprawling sanctuary of black marble and heated floors. Stripping off the ruined, sweatshirt, I stepped into the massive walk-in shower. I let the scalding water wash away all my stress, the dried blood, and the dark grime of the past twenty-four hours.

I quickly eat the food waiting for me at the glass table with my medications.

When I stepped out, a plush silk robe was waiting for me, along with a garment rack that had been rolled into the dressing room. Silas had clearly anticipated this. Though he was no longer in the room. On the rack hung tailored, high-fashion pieces that screamed quiet luxury and I picked a classy- cream silk blouse, and tailored blue short trousers.

I dressed deliberately, letting the expensive clothing drape over my shoulders like armor. I brushed out my damp hair, applied a minimal layer of makeup to cover the faint bruising near my temple, and stared at myself in the mirror. The frightened, helpless girl from Lena’s apartment was gone. I looked like a Caelthorne. A sexy one at that.

I stepped out of the bedroom and followed the quiet murmur of voices down a long, sleek corridor that opened into a sprawling, state-of-art office terminal.

The room was dominated by an oversized mahogany desk and a wall of glowing security monitors. Silas stood by the glass overlook, a fresh bandage on his shoulder, wearing a crisp, fitted black button-down shirt that made his imposing frame look sharp, commanding, and lethal. He was no longer on the casual green top i had seen him on earlier.

Elias was there too, sitting at a glass conference table with a fresh bandage over his eyebrow, his fingers flying across a new encryption terminal. The moment I saw his familiar face, a surge of pure excitement took over. Before I could even think about it, I ran across the room and threw my arms around his neck in a tight hug.

"Vienne," Elias looked up at me, a faint, relieved sigh escaping his lips. "You look... significantly less like you survived an explosion."

I knew that was his version of a compliment. “Thank you,” I said, stepping back with a genuine smile. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Silas stiffen. His jaw clenched, his dark eye narrowing with a sudden, dangerous irritation. He was jealous

“Where is Lena?” I demanded, my bare legs clicking sharply against the polished concrete floor as I focused back on the crisis.

"She’s in one of the lower-level residential suites, heavily sedated by a private physician and currently eating a pint of premium ice cream," Silas said, turning away from the window. His dark eye suddenly swept over my new silhouette, a flicker of something intense and unreadable passing through his gaze. Like he was admiring how I looked. "She is perfectly safe."

I let out the first real breath I had taken all day. "Thank you."

For a split second, the world suddenly looked peaceful. It was almost easy to pretend none of this existed. As if there wasn’t a multi-million dollar bounty on my head. As if dangerous people weren’t actively hunting me.

"Don't thank me yet," Silas said softly, walking over to the mahogany desk. He picked up a secure, glowing tablet. “Evelyn wasn't lying about the grid. Victor has officially moved into the Vane Industries headquarters downtown. He’s filed an emergency petition to assume control of all joint accounts, claiming my 'death' leaves the assets vulnerable."

My throat tightened painfully. "And Arthur Vance?" I asked, the name sending a cold prickle down my spine. "The man from my past.”

"Arthur is Victor’s cleanup man. He’s currently sweeping the city for you," Elias interjected, spinning his screen around to show a live, intercepted police band matrix. "But he’s blind right now. This penthouse is a dead zone to their trackers."

Well... at least that felt safe. For now.

I walked over to the desk, reaching into my pocket. I pulled out the object I had carried through the explosion and the fall; the tarnished, geometric half-medallion from the mansion vault. I placed it flat on the dark wood.

"Evelyn has the other half," I said flatly, looking up at Silas. "She held up a silver compact mirror on the roof. The engraving matched this perfectly. She said my mother used to sing a nursery rhyme when the rain started. She said it was the key to Level Four. But sometimes I wonder if Evelyn is in our side or she is tricking us.”

Silas stared down at the half-medallion, his jaw tightening. "My father and your father built Level Four to protect something that could ruin the Laurent family permanently. But the access terminal requires a dual-input biometric rhyme. A vocal frequency code. As for Evelyn… I can’t tell for now little bird.”

I scoffed gently before giving a reply, actively pushing Evelyn out of our topic. “Either way, it’s a rhyme I don't remember," I whispered bitterly.

"You will," Silas said, stepping closer until the expensive scent of his cologne enveloped me. He reached out, his long, scarred fingers gently brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear, his touch surprisingly warm against my skin. "We go to the corporate headquarters tomorrow. We take back the vault before Victor legalizes his theft."

The sudden quiet in the room made my mind drift backward, thinking of the horror in the hallway. “I wonder how my aunt is doing now,” I said sadly.

Before Silas could even formulate a reply, a sharp, rhythmic ping echoed violently from Elias’s terminal.

I froze. Elias froze too, his face losing all color as a red flashing alert hijacked every monitor on the penthouse wall.

"Silas..." Elias’s voice was barely a whisper. "The dead zone just got breached."

I turned toward the floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking the city skyline.

The elevators at the far end of the private penthouse corridor suddenly whined, the digital floor numbers rapidly climbing. 50... 51... 52...

But nobody had the access key except Silas.

And then, the monitor sitting on the extreme edge of the mahogany desk buzzed once. A video file from an unknown number had just been force-delivered.

Since I was standing right next to the desk, I pressed play with a trembling finger. The screen flickered to life, showing a live, shaky camera feed of the very corridor right outside our office door. Walking down the hallway toward us, completely unbothered by the state-of-the-art security matrix, was a blurry, obscured silhouette.

But it was the sight right behind that silhouette that made my heart physically stop.

Strapped tightly to a rolling office chair, her mouth covered in heavy silver duct tape, her eyes wide with absolute, breathless horror, was Aunt Marissa. I could see her face with terrifying clarity. She was alive.

The blurry figure at the front stopped, looking directly into the hidden security camera lens. He smiled smoothly, his lips moving in a slow, deliberate cadence as he mouthed nine chilling words:

“Open the door. Tell Vienne her brother came to see her.”