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CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Last Updated:
2026-01-06 23:52:12
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THE BIDDING ROOM CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
The alarms didn’t scream anymore. They listened. A low, predatory hum rolled through the vault, the kind of sound designed not to panic but to focus—to pull every system, every weapon, every contingency into alignment. Red light washed the walls, then steadied into a controlled amber. Containment protocol. Lucien moved before Evelyn could take another step toward the console. He didn’t grab her. He didn’t restrain her. He placed himself directly in her line of sight. “Evelyn,” he said, and her name, her real name—cut through the noise. “If you open that lock without understanding the cost, you won’t just start a war.” She met his gaze, pulse roaring in her ears. “I’m already inside one.” “Yes,” he agreed. “But this one ends with the world rearranging itself around you.” Behind him, the screens flickered, struggling to maintain connection as external feeds dropped one by one. Ports. Banks. Shell corporations. Old-world syndicates that had survived by becoming invisible. And at
THE BIDDING ROOM CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
The knock came at 3:17 a.m, not sharp, not urgent and polite.Lucien was already awake. He didn’t reach for a weapon. He reached for the wall panel instead, thumb brushing the biometric seal that armed half the room in silence. Only then did he speak.“Enter.”The door opened, not Damien. It wasn’t a guard.The woman who stepped inside moved with the quiet confidence of someone who had never been questioned in this house — because she had built half of it.Maribel. Head of internal intelligence. Ghost architect.A woman Lucien trusted because she had never lied to him. Until now.“We have a breach,” she said calmly.Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “Where.”“Not the perimeter,” Maribel replied. “The past.”Lucien said nothing.She placed a thin folder on his desk. It wasn’t marked. It didn’t need to be.“This arrived through a dead channel,” she continued. “Yakuza origin. Authenticated. Old blood.”Lucien opened it and the world shifted.Inside was a single photograph.A group of children sta
THE BIDDING ROOM CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
Morning arrived without softness.Evelyn woke before the light fully broke, her body already alert, her thoughts sharpened by the knowledge that this was no longer a waiting game. The house hummed differently—quieter, tighter, like a held breath. She dressed slowly, deliberately, choosing composure over comfort. When she looked in the mirror, she didn’t see a captive.She saw someone being assessed.The door opened at precisely eight.Lucien stood there, immaculate, composed, unreadable. He took her in with a single glance—not possessive, not approving—measuring readiness the way one measured steel.“Are you prepared?” he asked.She nodded. “For what you’re not telling me.”A flicker of something crossed his eyes. “Good.”They walked side by side through corridors she had once hurried down, eyes lowered. Now she lifted her chin. The staff paused, just long enough to notice the change. Guards straightened. Whispers didn’t follow her—they anticipated.They entered the main hall together
THE BIDDING ROOM CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Lucien didn’t answer her right away. He moved instead, slow, deliberate — crossing the room until he stood in front of her., not crowded and he wasn’t retreating. Just close enough that the choice between distance and contact felt razor-thin. “You don’t understand what that means,” he said. Evelyn lifted her chin. “Then explain it to me.” His gaze searched her face, as if looking for a crack where fear might still live. He didn’t find one. What he found unsettled him far more. “When I stop trying to keep you clean,” he said quietly, “you stop being collateral. You become a participant.” Her pulse jumped — not away from him, but toward him. “I already am.” Lucien’s mouth curved, not a smile, not quite — but something dangerously close. “That’s the problem.” He turned away, pacing once, twice. The room seemed to contract with every step, as if it were listening too. “They want spectacle,” he continued. “A public fracture. Something that proves I can be made to choose emotion ov
THE BIDDING ROOM CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
The night became a silent sniper after that, but not a violent one. Like something inevitable was about to happen. Lucien did not leave her room immediately. He stood there, close enough now that the space between them felt intentional rather than restrained. Evelyn became acutely aware of every small thing—the slow rise of his chest, the faint scar along his jaw, the way his attention settled on her as if she were a problem he could not solve without breaking something essential.“Forty-eight hours,” she said again, quieter this time. “You’re already planning what you won’t tell me.”“Yes.”“And you think I’ll accept that.”“I think,” he replied, “that you’ll understand why I do it.”She shook her head. “Understanding isn’t obedience.”“No,” he agreed. “It’s worse. It’s consent.”The word lingered.Evelyn stepped closer, not challenging, not defiant, but just curiously. She had learned the shape of danger well enough to recognize when it paused to look back at her.“You keep waitin
THE BIDDING ROOM CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Night settled over the estate like a held breath. Evelyn stood at the edge of the hidden passage, palm pressed to the cool stone, listening to the house live around her — guards shifting, doors murmuring open and shut, the distant hum of people beneath the floors. Lucien’s world never slept. It waited. She closed the panel softly and returned to her bed, mind racing. The passage wasn’t an escape route. Not really. It was too narrow, too watched. But it was proof — proof that Lucien built contingency into everything. Proof that survival here depended on knowing when to move and when to remain perfectly still. A shadow passed her door. Footsteps paused. She didn’t pretend to sleep this time. “Lucien,” she said quietly. The door opened. He stood there, expression carved from restraint, gaze sweeping the room before settling on her. “You should be resting.” “I’ve rested enough,” she replied. “We need to talk.” A beat. Then he entered and closed the door behind him, the click of the
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