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Chapter 28: The Edge of the Shadows
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2026-09-19 20:43:33Dr. Kaelen Thorne-Vane
A violent surge of electricity tore through the manor’s dead wiring.
Overhead, the high-voltage emergency floodlights flickered, hummed, and suddenly burst into blinding white light throughout Ashford Manor.
The darkness that had protected us in the narrow passage vanished instantly.
“The main power,” Wren gasped against my neck, her lungs still fighting the lingering effects of the chloral hydrate. Her small hands clutched the lapels of my coat, her fingers digging through the damp wool into my chest.
“Hold onto me,” I rasped.
My voice was a dark rumble against her temple.
Then I heard it.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the main gallery.
Clack-drag.
Clack-drag.
Julian.
He was coming back, driven by fear, rage, and whatever stimulants were still keeping his cowardly heart beating.
In his right hand, the steel barrel of his revolver scraped along the high oak paneling with a sickening metallic screech.
“Wren!”
Julian’s voice cracked across the gallery.
“I know you’re in the archway! I heard the blast door reset! Come out, you ungrateful bitch!”
There was nowhere to run.
The heavy blast door behind us had re-engaged its magnetic locks when the power surged. Beyond it, the main gallery stretched fifty yards of brightly lit marble before reaching the grand staircase.
I didn’t hesitate.
I pulled Wren backward into the recessed shadow of a stone statue alcove, a narrow three-foot notch carved into the ancient masonry around a marble bust of an Ashford ancestor.
It had barely enough room for one person.
We would have to do two works.
I pushed Wren against the cold stone and stepped directly in front of her. I pressed my body close to hers, using my shoulders and heavy coat to shield her from the bright hallway.
My left hand came up to the back of her head, guiding her face into the crook of my neck and hiding her long black hair beneath my lapel.
My right arm locked around her waist.
“Don’t move,” I breathed against her hair. “Don’t even breathe.”
Wren went completely still.
Her face was buried against my neck, her breath warm against my skin. Her chest pressed against mine, and I could feel every frantic beat of her heart.
Julian’s shadow stretched across the marble floor just outside our alcove.
The yellow beam of his tactical flashlight swept across the walls.
Then it stopped.
Three feet from us.
I could smell him.
Blood from where Wren had struck him.
Stale scotch.
Cold sweat.
He breathed in ragged, uneven gasps, his boots scraping against the grit on the floor.
“I know you’re playing games, Thorne,” Julian muttered.
His voice trembled only inches from my back.
“I’ll find you. I’ll kill you both and tell Beatrix the police did it.”
He raised the flashlight.
The beam moved across the floor.
Across my trousers.
It stopped less than an inch from my shoe.
Every muscle in my body tightened.
One movement.
One sound.
And I’d have to turn, grab his wrist, and stop him before he could fire.
But if I moved too soon, the bullet meant for me could tear straight into Wren.
Then I felt her lips against my neck.
A soft kiss.
Barely more than a brush against my pulse.
She wasn’t speaking.
She was asking me to stay still.
To hold the line.
To trust her.
The warmth of her mouth sent a sharp jolt through me. My arm tightened instinctively around her waist, and her breath caught against my throat.
Julian took another staggering step forward.
His hand reached toward the marble edge of the alcove.
His fingers brushed it.
He leaned closer.
Snap.
A sudden crack echoed from the opposite end of the gallery.
“Vance!”
A booming voice came from the grand staircase.
“Metropolitan Police! Drop the weapon! Drop it now!”
Two tactical flashlights swept across the corridor, catching Julian in a blinding crossfire.
Julian shrieked.
It was a high, panicked sound.
He fired blindly toward the stairs before spinning around and running down the east wing.
His uneven footsteps faded into the distance.
The officers charged after him, their heavy boots thundering past our alcove.
“Stop!”
“Drop your weapon!”
Their voices disappeared into the sprawling depths of the estate.
Silence returned.
Only the low hum of the emergency lights remained.
I still didn’t release Wren.
My chest rose and fell against hers as the adrenaline slowly drained from my body, leaving something far more dangerous behind.
I loosened my grip enough to look down at her.
Wren’s sapphire eyes were wide.
They burned with triumph.
Her cheeks were flushed, and her lips parted as she tried to catch her breath.
“He’s gone,” she whispered.
Her hands slid up my chest, her fingers curling into my shirt.
“He’s gone,” I repeated.
My thumb moved slowly across her swollen lower lip.
I still didn’t step out of the alcove.
Instead, I leaned down and kissed her.
The kiss was dark and possessive, carrying the taste of survival and everything we had nearly lost.
Wren softened against me, her hands tightening around my shirt as she returned the kiss.
For a few seconds, the world outside disappeared.
There was no Julian.
No police.
No Beatrix.
No mysterious force controlling ALPHA-00-ZERO.
Only us.
When I finally pulled back, her eyes were dark with emotion, her pulse racing beneath my fingers.
“The Mayfair vault,” she whispered.
Her voice was rough but steady.
“We have to reach London before whoever controls ALPHA-00-ZERO wipes the master servers.”
I looked toward the gallery.
Then back at her.
I reached down, took her hand, and laced my fingers through hers.
“Then let’s go burn London,” I said.
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THE HEIRESS BEHIND THE MADNESS Chapter 28: The Edge of the Shadows
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