Three Days

POV: Aliyah Rhodes

Red light.

That was all there was. Emergency strips along the baseboards, bleeding up the walls. It made the blood on Dominic's shirt look black. Made Rosie's face look carved out. Made the two men on the floor look dead instead of unconscious.

The locks had finished cycling. A sound like a vault. Final.

Antonio checked his phone again. Tapped it. Held it to his ear. Nothing. "Comms are dead," he said. "Landline too. Leo cut the floor. We're on local power. Generator only."

"How long?" Dominic asked. His voice was thinner now. The adrenaline crash was real.

"Seventy-two hours if we don't use anything but these lights," Antonio said. "Less if we run heat. Less if we use the med bay."

Rosie looked at Dominic. "You're bleeding through."

"I know," he said.

"You need stitches."

"I know."

"You'll die before Friday if you don't get them."

"Then I die before Friday," he said. "Better than letting Leo see the chart."

"Fuck the chart," Rosie said. "Fuck Leo. You're not dying in front of me. Not like Mom."

She said it fast. Like she hadn't meant to. Like it got out before she could stop it.

Dominic went still. "What did you say?"

"You heard me," Rosie said. "She bled out. Alone. In that car. Because Leo made sure no one could call for help after the crash. Said calling for help would make him look weak. So he let her die. And now you're doing the same thing."

"I'm not—"

"You are," Rosie said. "Same excuse. Same outcome. The only difference is Aliyah's here. And I'm not leaving until you stop acting like him."

I stepped between them. "We have three days. We're not spending them watching him bleed."

Dominic looked at me. "You heard the text. Termination authorized upon chair transition. If I take the chair, you die. If I don't take it, you die. Me bleeding doesn't change that."

"It changes how fast you can burn the ledger," I said. "You can't fight Leo from a gurney."

He held my eyes. Then nodded. Once. "Fine. Stitch it. But Antonio does it. No nurses. No logs."

Antonio already had a kit out of the cabinet. Black nylon, no hospital markings. Personal. "Sit," he said.

Dominic sat on the edge of the bed. Pulled his shirt up. The bandage was soaked. Antonio cut it off. The wound was a slit. Clean. Four inches. Deep. Still weeping.

"You should be dead," Rosie said. Quiet. Not mean. Just fact. "Carlo didn't miss. You just heal wrong."

"I heal fast," Dominic said.

"You heal wrong," Rosie said again. "Because normal people don't get stabbed and walk the next day."

"Blackwoods aren't normal," Antonio said. He threaded a curved needle. Didn't look up. "They never were."

He worked fast. No anesthetic. Dominic didn't flinch. Didn't make a sound. I watched his face. It was blank. But his hands were fists on the bedrail. White.

When Antonio tied off the last stitch, he wiped the blood with gauze and taped it. "You'll live. If you don't tear it. If you don't get an infection. If Leo doesn't send twelve more cleaners."

"Four," Dominic said.

"What?" I said.

"Six men on the floor," Dominic said. "Minus the two he sent. Four left. Antonio plus three. Against whatever Leo sends next."

"Against whatever he sends for three days," Rosie said. "Then what? You take the chair and we all die anyway?"

"No," Dominic said. "I take the chair and I rescind 9.2. First order. Before Leo's text goes live."

"You can't," Antonio said. "Chair transition is public. Legal. Board has to certify. Takes hours. Leo's order hits the second you sign. Before the board even stands up."

"So we stop the text," I said.

They all looked at me.

"Directive 9.2 lives in a system," I said. "A ledger. Rosie said it. Names. Flags. Orders. If we burn the ledger, the text has nowhere to go."

"It's not paper," Antonio said. "It's on a server. Airgapped. In the Blackwood building. Twenty floors down from Leo's office."

"Then we corrupt the server," I said.

"With what?" Rosie said. "We have no comms. No outside. No access."

"We have him," I said. Pointed at Dominic. "He's the heir. He has access. Codes. Overrides. Right?"

Dominic was quiet. Too long.

"Right?" I said again.

"I did," he said. "Until Leo flagged me after the stabbing. Security risk. He revoked my codes. Said it was temporary. Until I was 'well'."

"So you can't get in," Rosie said. "Even if we weren't locked in a hospital."

"No," Dominic said. "But I know who can."

"Who?" I said.

"Justin."

Rosie laughed. It was an ugly sound. "Justin. Uncle Justin. The guy who told Aliyah to stay away from you. The guy who works for Leo. You think he'll help?"

"He hates Leo," Dominic said. "Always has. Leo killed his brother. My dad. Car bomb. 2015. Told everyone it was business. Justin knows better."

"And he still works for him," Rosie said. "Because he's scared."

"Because he's waiting," Dominic said. "For me to take the chair. Then he moves. He told me. Two years ago. Before Mom died. Before you left."

Rosie went white. "You talked to him? After Mom? After you promised me you wouldn't?"

"I promised I wouldn't become Leo," Dominic said. "I didn't promise I wouldn't talk to Justin. He's the only one left who knows how the ledger works. How to kill it."

"How to kill us," Rosie said. "You trust him?"

"No," Dominic said. "But I trust that he hates Leo more than he fears him. And I trust that he wants the chair to pass to me, not to Leo's son."

"Leo has a son?" I said.

"Had," Antonio said. "Dead. 2019. Overdose. Or Leo. No one knows."

"So it's you or no one," I said. "That's why Leo needs you alive until Friday. And dead after."

"Yes," Dominic said.

"Then we call Justin," I said. "Now."

"We're dark," Antonio said. "No comms."

"Local lines," Dominic said. "Hospital internal. They cut external. Not internal. Leo wouldn't risk the ICU going blind. Too many rich people die, he gets investigated."

He pointed at the phone on the wall. Old. Corded. Cream. "That works. Room to room. Nurse station. Security. And one line to the Blackwood building. For emergencies."

"How do you know?" I asked.

"Because I paid for the wing," Dominic said. "After Mom. I made sure I could always call out. Even if they cut the world."

He stood. Walked to the wall. Picked up the phone. Dialed. Five numbers. Waited.

We all waited.

A click. Then a voice. "Blackwood Security."

"This is Dominic Blackwood," Dominic said. "Get me Justin Blackwood. Tell him it's about the ledger. Tell him it's about Friday."

A pause. Then, "One moment, Mr. Blackwood."

The line went quiet. Then another click. Then a new voice. Older. Tired.

"Dominic," Justin said. "You're supposed to be dead."

"I'm not," Dominic said.

"Leo says you will be. Friday."

"Leo's wrong," Dominic said. "If you help me."

"What do you want?"

"The ledger," Dominic said. "Burn it. All of it. Directive 9.2. The flags. The names. Before Friday. Before I take the chair."

"And why would I do that?" Justin said. "When Leo's the one signing my checks?"

"Because Mom," Rosie said. Loud. Into the room. Like he could hear her.

A silence. Then Justin said, "Who's that?"

"Rosie," Dominic said. "She's here. So is Aliyah Rhodes. Both 9.2. Both collateral as of ten minutes ago."

Another silence. Longer.

Then Justin said, "You're in 901."

"Yes."

"Locked."

"Yes."

"And you want me to commit treason for the three of you in that room."

"No," Dominic said. "I want you to commit treason for your brother. And for my mom. And for Sarah. And for Maria. And for every woman Leo put in the ground."

The line hissed. No one spoke.

Then Justin said, "Seventy-two hours. If I do it, Leo kills me."

"If you don't," Dominic said, "I will. After I take the chair."

A breath. Then, "I'll call back. One hour. Don't leave the room."

The line went dead.

Dominic hung up. Looked at us. "Now we wait."

"For what?" I said.

"To see if he's more scared of Leo or of me," Dominic said.

The red lights hummed. The door stayed locked. The two cleaners on the floor started to move.

Antonio was on them before either got to their knees. He grabbed both cleaners by the back of the neck and slammed their heads together so hard you could hear the crack—not wood, not plaster. Bone. A wet, splitting sound that made Rosie turn away. Their skulls bounced apart and their bodies followed, folding sideways onto the floor. Unconscious. Both of them.

He zip-tied them to the bedframe. Checked the knots. "They stay down this time."

He glanced at his watch. "Countdown started. Seventy-two hours."