Masuk*3RD POV*The rain in Geneva was a cold, relentless drizzle that turned the streets into mirrors of wet asphalt. Rylan crouched on the rooftop of the building opposite the Aethelgard office block, the water dripping from the brim of his cap.He adjusted the earpiece. "I'm in position. I have eyes on the server room window. Third floor."Lucian’s voice came through the comms, sharp and static-filled. "We're live on this end. Damian is ready."Rylan looked down at the device in his hand. It looked harmless – a simple black drive with a single LED light. But inside it was the 'Antidote' – a polymorphic virus Damian had written in three hours of feverish concentration. It was designed to hunt the corrupted fractal code, latch onto its unique signature, and burn it from the inside out."Thermal shows two guards inside," Rylan whispered. "I'm going in."He didn't wait for confirmation. He rappelled down the building, swinging through the open window of the server room.The two guards were p
*Aria’s POV*The pain was a dull, rhythmic throb that radiated from my shoulder to my fingertips. The doctors had said I was lucky – the bullet had missed the artery by a centimeter. But as I sat propped up in the hospital bed, watching the sun rise over the city through the reinforced glass, I didn't feel lucky. I felt like a target painted in red.Lucian hadn't left my side, but his mind was elsewhere. He was staring at the closed door of the guest room down the hall – the room where Damian was recovering.The confrontation with Victor had left a scar on Lucian’s soul, but the silence surrounding Damian was festering. The fractal tattoo. The ring Silas wore. The connection was too loud to ignore."I have to ask him," Lucian said suddenly, breaking the silence. He was standing by the window, his back to me. "I have to know if the hand that shot you was guided by my brother.""If he is the Sinner," I said, my voice raspy, "he wouldn't still be here, Lucian. He would have finished the
*Aria’s POV*Pain was a color. It was red, sharp, and blinding.I floated in a haze of antiseptic and beeping monitors. The world was a blur of white coats and hushed whispers. I tried to move my left arm, and a searing hot poker drove through my shoulder, dragging me back into the darkness.When I finally surfaced, the room was dim."Easy," a low voice rumbled.I turned my head. Lucian was sitting in a chair pulled right up to the bedside. He looked wrecked. His shirt was blood-stained – my blood. His eyes were red-rimmed, dark circles bruising the skin beneath them. He was holding my hand, his grip tight, as if he was afraid I would vanish if he let go."Lucian," I whispered, my throat dry."Don't try to move," he said, his voice cracking. "The bullet shattered the head of your humerus. They had to piece it back together with pins."My memory flashed back – the fight, Silas standing over Victor, the deafening bang, the feeling of flying backward."Silas?""Gone," Lucian said, his ex
*Aria's POV*The penthouse was a powder keg.Lucian hadn't slept. He sat in the armchair in the corner of the master bedroom, staring at the closed door, as if he could see through the walls to the guest room where Damian lay sleeping. The revelation of the fractal tattoo had shaken him to his core, fracturing the trust he had desperately tried to rebuild."He has to have an explanation," I said, pacing the length of the room. "A tattoo from years ago? It doesn't prove he’s the Sinner, Lucian. It just proves he likes math.""It proves he kept a secret," Lucian said, his voice rough. "In this family, secrets are bullets."Before I could respond, the penthouse intercom buzzed."Lucian," Rylan’s voice came through, tight with urgency. "You have visitors.""I didn't authorize any visitors.""It’s your father. He just walked in. He... he bypassed the elevator lock. He has a master key."Lucian stood up, his face hardening. "Bring him to the living room.""And... there’s another car behind
*Aria’s POV*The penthouse felt like a waiting room for a funeral.Two days had passed since the attack on the mountain. Two days of doctors shuffling in and out of the guest room where Damian lay healing, his torso wrapped in bandages, his face pale but his breathing steady. The doctors said he was strong. They said he would recover.But the silence in the living room was weak.Lucian stood by the window, staring out at the city lights. He hadn't slept. He was wearing the same clothes he had worn in Geneva – a dark suit, now wrinkled, the tie long gone. His phone sat on the coffee table in front of him, a black monolith on the glass surface.He was staring at it like it was a bomb."You have to call him," I said softly from the sofa. I was holding a cup of tea I hadn't sipped from. "You have to ask."Lucian didn't turn. "If he says yes... if he admits it... I don't know what I'll do.""If he is Il Pecatore," I said, my voice steady, "he already knows you know. He’s waiting. Silence i
*Aria’s POV*The pipe was a tomb of ice.I huddled in the darkness, Adrian pressed against my chest, his small body shaking with violent tremors. The sound of gunfire had stopped, replaced by the howling wind that whistled through the drainage tunnel like a dying animal."Mommy, I'm cold," Adrian whispered, his teeth chattering."I know, baby. I know." I wrapped my coat tighter around him, though the cold was seeping into my bones, making my limbs heavy and clumsy.I looked back toward the entrance of the pipe. It was a grey rectangle in the distance, filling with swirling snow. I couldn't see Damian anymore. I couldn't hear him.Had they taken him? Was he dead?The fear was a physical weight, pressing me down. But I couldn't stop. If I stopped, we froze."We have to keep moving," I whispered. "We have to find a place to hide until Daddy comes.""Is Daddy coming?""He's coming," I promised, though I didn't know if it was a lie. "He's flying fast."We crawled deeper into the pipe. The
*Aria’s POV*The forest devoured us.Branches lashed against my bare arms. Wet leaves slapped my face. The motorcycle tore through mud and roots like it had memorized the terrain, like this escape route had been prepared long before tonight.I screamed from fury. I have had enough being a toy in th
*Aria's POV*They call it planning.As if intention changes what it is.As if wrapping something in silk and schedules and florals can make it anything other than a slow, deliberate erasure.It begins the morning after my failed escape.A knock—soft, polite, relentless.Three women enter my room wi
*Aria's POV*I don’t plan it.That’s the truth I clung to later, when pain bloomed and consequences come crashing down. I didn’t sit by the window plotting routes or counting guards like a prisoner in a storybook.I just… moved.It happened in the quiet space between heartbeats—after dinner had end
*Aria's POV*The doors didn’t explode.That’s what unsettled everyone the most.No violent crash. No marble shattering. No gunfire tearing the ceremony apart.Just a sound.Low. Mechanical. Distant at first—but growing louder, heavier, like thunder that knows exactly where it’s meant to strike.Hel







