Chapter 81: The Name That Refused to Die

The night air hit my lungs like ice, sharp and unforgiving, but it didn’t clear the fog in my head. If anything, it made everything worse.

The name still exists.

Those words echoed endlessly, louder than the alarms we’d left behind, louder than the collapsing stone, louder than my own heartbeat.

Elliot staggered slightly as he carried the fixer, my father’s former shadow, the man who had known too much and survived too long. Marcus stayed close, scanning the darkness with the precision of someone who had learned long ago that danger didn’t announce itself.

Liam brought up the rear, weapon raised, his jaw clenched tight.

We didn’t stop running until the ruins were nothing but a jagged silhouette behind us.

Only then did Elliot finally lower the fixer to the ground.

I dropped to my knees beside them, hands shaking as I pressed my fingers to the man’s neck. A pulse, weak, but there.

“He’s alive,” I whispered.

For now.

The fixer coughed, his body trembling violently as his eyes fluttered open. Sweat drenched his face, his skin ashen under the moonlight.

“She meant it,” he croaked. “Every word.”

Marcus crouched across from him, voice low and controlled. “Then start talking. Slowly.”

The fixer let out a hollow laugh that dissolved into a painful wheeze. “You don’t get to destroy a legacy like your father’s without consequences.”

My stomach twisted.

“Legacy of what?” I demanded. “Lies? Blood?”

He turned his gaze to me, sharp despite his condition. “Power.”

The word settled heavily between us.

Elliot stiffened beside me. I could feel his anger simmering just beneath the surface, directed not just at the fixer, but at the world that kept dragging us deeper.

“The name,” I said quietly. “What does it mean?”

The fixer closed his eyes for a moment, as though gathering strength from somewhere deeper than his failing body.

“It isn’t a person,” he finally said. “It’s a designation.”

My heart skipped.

“A title,” he continued. “Passed down. Reassigned. Rebuilt. Every time someone believes they’ve destroyed it… someone else steps into the shadow.”

Marcus swore under his breath.

“You’re telling us,” Elliot said slowly, “that even if she’s dead”

“She’s replaceable,” the fixer finished. “Just like me.”

A chill crept up my spine.

“So my father,” I whispered, dread tightening my chest, “he wasn’t fighting one enemy.”

“No,” the fixer said. “He was fighting a system designed to survive him.”

Silence swallowed us whole.

I thought of the shattered flash drive, the way it had broken so easily against the stone. I had believed destroying it would end something.

Instead, I’d only torn open the truth.

Liam shifted uneasily. “Then why go through all this trouble for one file?”

The fixer’s lips curved faintly. “Because it wasn’t just data. It was proof. Names. Locations. Fail-safes.”

My breath hitched. “Fail-safes?”

He nodded weakly. “Your father built contingencies. People he trusted. Sleeper mechanisms that could bring everything down if activated together.”

Elliot’s eyes darkened. “And now?”

“Now,” the fixer said, meeting my gaze again, “they’ll come looking for you.”

The weight of his words settled brutally in my chest.

“Because I destroyed the drive?” I asked.

“No,” he said softly. “Because you’re the last living key.”

Marcus stood abruptly. “We need to move. This area won’t stay quiet.”

As if summoned by his words, a distant hum vibrated through the air.

Vehicles.

Multiple.

My blood turned to ice.

“They’re already here,” Elliot muttered.

The fixer’s breathing grew shallow. “You don’t understand,” he rasped. “This isn’t a recovery team.”

I grabbed his wrist. “Then what is it?”

He swallowed hard. “A recruitment unit.”

The hum grew louder.

Lights cut through the trees, white, controlled, methodical.

Not chaotic.

Professional.

Marcus pulled me to my feet, his grip firm. “We split. Now.”

Elliot hesitated, glancing at the fixer. “He won’t survive another move.”

The fixer gave a weak shake of his head. “You were never meant to save me.”

I felt tears sting my eyes. “You’re not disposable.”

He smiled faintly. “In this world… everyone is.”

The lights drew closer.

The fixer reached into his coat with trembling fingers and pressed something into my palm.

A small metal key.

“Lockbox,” he whispered. “Under your father’s old office. Don’t trust anyone who already knows about it.”

Before I could respond, his eyes rolled back.

Elliot checked his pulse, then shook his head.

He was gone.

The hum of engines roared now.

Marcus dragged me backward. “We have to go.”

I looked down at the key clenched in my fist, my father’s ghost heavy in my chest.

“They’re not hunting the past anymore,” Elliot said grimly as we disappeared into the trees.

“They’re hunting me.”

As we fled into the darkness, my phone vibrated in my pocket.

A message from an unknown number.

WELCOME BACK, HEIR.

WE’VE BEEN WAITING.

And in that moment, I knew

Destroying the secret had marked me as the next target.