Chapter 11: Blood Doesn't Make a King

The man didn't look dangerous. That was the first thing I noticed when I saw him through the observation window. Mid-forties, thinning hair, hands that wouldn't stop fidgeting on the metal table. He sat in the interrogation room under flat, neutral lighting, neither restrained nor roughed up. Just waiting. Somehow, that made it worse. Rowan stood behind the one-way glass with Lucien and Elias, all three of them silent as statues. I stayed in the hallway, staring at my own reflection in the darkened window. Rowan's voice crackled through the earpiece. "You don't have to do this." I adjusted the small transmitter clipped to my collar, kept my hands steady. "Yes, I do." Lucien's voice cut in, calm and clinical. "He's been here sixteen years. He knows our systems inside and out. He'll try to play on your sympathy." Elias added quietly, "Don't let him read you first." I exhaled once. Centered myself. Then I opened the door. The man looked up immediately, and relief flooded his face the second he saw me. First mistake. "You must be Ava," he said quickly, leaning forward like we were old friends. "I'm glad it's you." I closed the door behind me and locked it with a deliberate click. Pulled out the metal chair across from him and sat down slowly. "I doubt that." His hands twitched on the table. "They told me I'd be questioned. I just assumed... one of the brothers." "Disappointed?" "No. Just surprised." I leaned back in my chair, studied him like he was a puzzle I was working through. "You've been in this estate for sixteen years." "Yes." "Longer than I have." He nodded carefully. "I've been loyal." I tilted my head. "To whom?" Silence. He shifted in his seat, the plastic creaking. "To the Kings." I smiled faintly, cold, sharp. "No. You've been useful to the Kings. There's a difference." He swallowed hard. "I don't understand." I leaned forward, folded my hands on the table. "You were placed here after the first Syndicate collapse. You weren't hired randomly. You were embedded. A sleeper agent waiting for a wake-up call." Rowan's voice murmured low in my ear. "Push him." I didn't need the instruction. "You tagged an offshore account yesterday," I said. His face drained of color. "I don't know what you're talking about." I didn't blink. "I do." The silence stretched until it felt suffocating. He licked his dry lips, eyes darting toward the door like he was considering bolting. "They monitor response times," I said conversationally, like we were discussing the weather. "That's how they measure strength. They wanted to see how fast Lucien would move, how aggressive Rowan would get." His gaze flickered with genuine curiosity. "Who told you that?" I leaned forward. "I grew up in this house. Do you know what I remember?" He frowned, confused. "Smoke," I said quietly. "Men shouting. A crest with a broken crown." His breathing hitched. There it was. Recognition. "They didn't just kill my parents," I continued, my voice dropping to a whisper. "They hesitated first. Because they needed leverage against Rowan." His pupils dilated. "They... they didn't hesitate," he whispered back, almost involuntarily. I smiled. "Yes. They did. And you've been waiting sixteen years to help them get it back." His composure finally cracked. He shook his head weakly. "You don't know what you're talking about." My tone changed colder, sharper. "I know you were activated yesterday. Sixteen years dormant, and suddenly you get a ping. You're sweating. Your heart rate's up. You're terrified." I leaned back, let the silence do the work. Then I softened my voice. Just slightly. "I'm not here to punish you." His eyes lifted hopeful, desperate. "I'm here to offer you a better survival rate." Behind the glass, I knew Lucien's expression had just sharpened. This wasn't the script we'd rehearsed. The man whispered, "You can't protect me from them." I smiled, and it didn't reach my eyes. "No. But I can decide whether you leave this room breathing today. That's a much more immediate problem for you, isn't it?" He stared at me differently now. Not as a girl. Not as a victim. As an authority. "Why you?" he whispered. "Because I'm the one they tried to use," I said. "And I'm the one who's going to make sure they never try it again." I paused. "Names." He hesitated. I didn't raise my voice. Didn't threaten. Just watched him. "They call him The Regent," he whispered finally. "No one sees him. Everything runs through encrypted ghost-servers." Rowan's voice in my ear was razor sharp. "Ask about the timeline." "When did he take over?" I asked. "Six months ago." My stomach dropped. Six months. That was when I officially resurfaced. When the world knew I was back. I stood slowly, the chair scraping against the floor. "They knew I was coming back. They wanted me visible." He didn't deny it. "They wanted a target they could recognize." I nodded once. "Of course they did." I walked to the door, then paused and looked back over my shoulder