Chapter 24: The Uninvited Guest

Natalia POV

"He’s moving on the vault," Reymond said, throwing back the velvet spread before the static on the tactical radio had even cleared.

The heat of the mattress evaporated instantly. I pulled my tunic over my head, my limbs still heavy from the feverish surge of the bond, but the cold reality hit faster than the mountain air whistling past the window.

"The deep archives below the estate connect straight to the sub-level grid here," I said, pulling my boots on and cinching the leather straps tight over my wrists. My skin was still thrumming with that dark, silver warmth, but the wire in my chest had quieted. "If the envoy opens that vault with your father’s codes, he gets the original blood logs."

"He doesn't get a damn thing," Reymond growled. He buckled his shoulder holster over his bare, scarred chest, not bother to grab a clean shirt. He grabbed a heavy tactical coat, throwing it around his broad shoulders. "We intercept the main terminal in the subterranean lab before they can execute a remote wipe from the estate."

We took the narrow, unlit maintenance stairs behind the master bedchamber. Down three levels, past the cold damp stone of the ancient cellars, straight into the dark belly.

Reymond slammed his palm against the scanner. The glass lit green, the heavy iron bolt drawing back with a low, hydraulic hissed release. We stepped inside the vault—surrounded by rows of dead servers, shattered glass beakers, and metal medical trays from seven years ago.

"The main ledger is stored in the central terminal," I said, stepping up to the raised iron console in the middle of the room. My fingers flew across the cracked glass interface, bringing up the royal override menu.

Before I could key in the final Walker signature, a loud, metallic CLANG echoed through the stone floor.

The heavy iron door behind us slammed shut. The green light on the scanner flickered violently, turned crimson, and died. High above us, the emergency power grid hummed once and went pitch black.

"Don't move," Reymond whispered, his voice right behind my ear. His chest hit my shoulder, his arm sweeping across my torso to pin me hard against his side. "He’ll flood the chamber with suppressant gas first. To disable you, and by extension, me."

The silver light under my skin hummed low, reacting to the sudden spike in my pulse. It wasn't the blinding glare from the courtyard broadcast, but a faint, translucent aura that illuminated the rough stone walls and the heavy steel reinforcement beams of the ceiling.

"How long until the gas hits?" I asked, keeping my voice quiet.

"Two minutes if the intake valves are clean," Reymond said. His broad hand slid down my arm, his calloused fingers locking into mine. The connection immediately stabilized the pulse in my blood, sending a quiet, warm counter-current through my palm. "Less if Aubert tampered with the secondary seals."

I looked up at the smooth metal door. There were no exterior handles, no emergency overrides, and the electronic keypad on the wall was dead. "Do you think Aurbert survived the gunshot?”

“I highly doubt that, he is full of tricks” Reymond said

“Okk... Can you tear the latch?" i immediately shifted to the present situation.

"Not before the room fills," he said, dragging me toward the dark back corner of the laboratory. "My father was paranoid. He assumed the Southern Council would try to poison him in his own vault, so he built a secondary exhaust line behind the old coolant tanks. It’s narrow, but it bypasses the floor valves."

He dragged me past a row of rusted surgical trays. Behind a heavy metal frame, half-hidden by thick rubber hoses, was a narrow, square maintenance hatch built into the stone.

Reymond jammed his fingers into the seam of the hatch, his muscles straining until the iron latch sheared off with a harsh metallic snap. Cold, stale air rushed out of the dark opening.

"You first," Reymond said, stepping behind me.

"It's barely two feet wide," I said, eyeing the square shaft.

"Then move fast."

He didn't wait for a debate. He grabbed my waist, his large hands sinking firm into my hips, and lifted me straight into the vertical shaft. My boots scraped against the cold steel rungs set into the metal wall, and I began hauling myself upward.

Reymond climbed right beneath me, his broad shoulders barely fitting between the narrow walls. Every time my footing slipped on the frozen metal, his chest was there to catch my boots, his steady breathing hot against the back of my legs.

"Keep moving," he grunted, his voice echoing in the hollow pipe. "The lower valve just popped."

Below us, a sharp hiss echoed through the dark vault as toxic grey vapor began filling the room we had just left.

I reached for the next rung, my gloved hand brushing against a rough raised texture on the inner steel casing. I paused, pulling back slightly to let the faint silver glow of my skin illuminate the metal. Etched into the iron wall of the private escape shaft was a stylized crest, a striking viper coiled around a cracked sun.

It wasn't a Smith Syndicate mark. It wasn't a Walker royal stamp either.

"Reymond," I said, my voice dropping as my fingers traced the cold grooves of the metal. "Look at this."

He paused two rungs below me, leaning up to see where I was pointing. His jaw tightened when his eyes caught the crest.

"That's my mother’s personal mark," I whispered, the words heavy and cold in my mouth. "My mother’s old southern codename."

Reymond didn't look surprised. He just stared at the etching for a beat before looking back up at me. "Your mother didn't just know about this facility, Natalia. She helped my father build the extraction grid seven years ago."

The air in my chest felt trapped. The betrayal wasn't just a shadow from the past anymore; it was stamped into the very bones of the fortress I was trying to defend. My mother hadn't been a victim of the Syndicate's greed. She had been an architect of the very system that had stolen my blood.

"Up," Reymond said quietly, his hand coming up to cup the back of my calf, giving me a firm push. "We can settle with her later."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and hauled myself up the remaining ten feet of the shaft.

We kicked through the upper vent cover, tumbling out onto the cold metal grate of the chateau's central server room.

The space was deafeningly loud. Hundreds of cooling fans whirred inside black metal racks that stretched from floor to ceiling. But the room wasn't dark. Dozens of glowing monitors lined the far wall, their blue and white light washing over the polished concrete floor.

Every single screen was displaying the same live feed.

Aubert sat comfortably in the high-backed leather chair inside Reymond’s private study three floors above us. He had discarded his tactical coat, wearing a crisp, tailored grey shirt, a half-empty glass of amber whiskey sitting on the desk beside his elbow.

He held a master relay mic in his hand, his voice broadcasting over every speaker in the keep and across the valley comm-links.

"...and so, by authority of the emergency Directorate," Aubert’s voice echoed off the steel racks, smooth, relaxed, and utterly lethal, "we have confirmed that Alpha Reymond Smith engaged in illegal blood-theft and treason against the northern territories. Having attempted to execute Princess Natalia Walker to cover his crimes, he is hereby stripped of his title and rank."

Aubert leaned forward, smiling into the lens.

"A kill-on-sight order has been authorized for Reymond Smith. Any guard, commander, or pack member who aids him will face immediate execution for treason."

The monitors flickered, changing to a secondary split-screen feed.

On the left screen, long rows of armoured vehicles belonging to the Southern Council were already rolling across the lower valley bridge, their headlights cutting through the heavy mountain snowstorm.

On the right screen, the feed shifted to a dimly lit, damp stone cell located deep within the old estate. My heart slammed against my ribs.

My mother was sitting on a wooden bench inside the cell, her hands bound behind her back with silver-threaded rope. A deep bruise cut across her cheekbone, but her eyes were cold and unyielding.

Standing over her was Mauris.

My father looked entirely composed. He held a thin, elegant silver blade in his hand, resting the flat of the steel lightly against the side of my mother’s throat.

Aubert’s face reappeared in a small corner window on the screen, his smile broadening as he looked directly into the camera, as if he knew exactly which server rack we were standing behind.

"Oh, and Natalia?" Aubert murmured into the mic. "Your father sends his regards."

On the screen, Mauris leaned down, his lips brushing my mother’s ear as he spoke loudly enough for the mic to catch: "Your mother and I have come to an understanding, Natalia. She will call off her loyalist vanguard and order you to submit to the Council’s custody... or I will remind her why she staged her death seven years ago."

Mauris pressed the silver blade just hard enough for a single drop of dark blood to bead against my mother's skin.

The screen went black.

The silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by the steady hum of the server fans.

My knees buckled. I reached out blindly, my hand catching the edge of a steel rack to keep from hitting the floor. The cold metal bit into my palm, but I couldn't feel it. Everything I had fought for over the last twenty-four hours, every speech, every broadcast, every drop of blood I’d poured into holding this mountain, had just been swept off the board in five minutes.

Before I could sink to the floor, two massive arms wrapped around my waist and chest from behind.

Reymond pulled me back against his body, lifting me until my feet cleared the grate. He backed us into the dark recess between two heavy server columns, his broad frame creating an absolute, impenetrable cage of muscle and heat around me.

His mouth pressed right against the shell of my ear, his rough breathing vibrating through my collarbone.

"Listen to me," he whispered, his voice low, steady, and terrifyingly calm. "The security grid in this wing drops in thirty seconds when Aubert reroutes the main power to the study. We have one window."

"My mother"

"Your mother made her deal twenty years ago," Reymond cut me off, his grip tightening around my ribs just enough to force a breath back into my lungs. "And your father is using her to draw you out into the open."

He turned me around in his arms until I was facing him in the narrow shadows between the servers. His silver eyes were dark, glowing with a fierce, dangerous resolve that didn't have a single grain of fear in it.

"You have two choices right now, Natalia," he murmured, his thumb catching my chin and tilting my face up until I was forced to look directly into his eyes. "You can walk out those doors, surrender to the Southern Council envoys, and try to negotiate for your mother's life..."

He leaned down, his lips brushing against mine, hot and possessive, tasting of pure resolve.

"...or you can stay with the monster," he whispered against my mouth, "and we burn this entire mountain to the ground together."