Semua Bab Ten Sinful Commandments : Bab 91 - Bab 100

Lydia stared down at the photograph.It wasn’t possible.The woman looking back at her from the glossy paper had her face—her same eyes, the same dip in her cupid’s bow, the same scar trailing down her shoulder like a signature. But it wasn’t her.It couldn’t be.She turned the photo over, her fingers trembling slightly. On the back, in careful script, were four words:Lilith. Subject Zero. Burned Alive.Her blood chilled. “Subject Zero?”Damian leaned closer, reading the words with a shadow in his eyes. “That means she was the first.”Lydia nodded slowly, heart thudding. “The first woman he tried to… reshape.”“But she wasn’t in any of the files,” Damian said, voice tight. “It’s like he erased her completely.”“Because she didn’t bend,” Lydia whispered. “Because she didn’t break.”There was something haunting in the woman’s stare. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t submission. It was fire. Rage. And beneath it… seduction.A shiver traced Lydia’s spine as she looked back down at the face so ee

The fire didn’t follow her out—but its scent clung to her skin like a brand.Smoke and red velvet. Pages and secrets.Lydia didn’t flinch.She didn’t look back.The corridors of Level C were darker now, as if the Red Room’s final confession had stolen the light itself. But she moved with purpose. Her bare feet left no sound, only a ghost trail of heat and hunger in the air.The door at the end of the hall—the one labeled nothing—was unlocked.Her hand hesitated only for a breath before she pushed it open.A new room.Cooler. Sleeker.Clinical.Unlike the velvet sin of the chamber before, this one was lined in white and chrome. Surgical lighting. A single steel table in the center, with leather restraints dangling like a promise. On the far wall, a monitor blinked to life the moment she entered.Her face.From earlier. Tonight. Walking toward the mirror in Room 07, robe slipping, eyes wide with something between dread and devotion.The feed froze.Then flickered.And shifted.Lilith.S

The flicker of the mirror went black.But the image burned behind Lydia’s eyes.Maxim. Alive.And not just alive—waiting.She didn’t wait for Damian’s excuses.Her body moved before her mind could catch up, cutting through the corridors like a blade, barefoot and blood-hot, the Red Room’s burn still whispering against her skin.“Lydia—wait!” Damian’s voice chased her down the hall.She didn’t.She turned a corner, faster, deeper—until the air changed.Cooler. Tighter.The pulse of the manor shifted beneath her soles. She was entering somewhere few had walked in years.But not never.The walls whispered her name, but not with fear.With recognition.Another false panel gave way when she pressed her hand to the stone.A click.Then a hiss of stale, artificial air.Behind it, a descending elevator shaft—old, humming, still powered. As if kept alive for one purpose only.Room 00.Damian caught up, panting. “You don’t know what’s down there.”She stepped inside.“Neither do you.”The doors

They ran.Not away. Not this time.They ran toward something. Toward truth. Toward choice. Toward the life neither of them had been allowed to live.Lydia’s lungs burned, feet slapping against cold concrete, Echo right behind her. The underground corridors pulsed red—emergency lights flickering like a heartbeat, like the building itself was panicking.Somewhere behind them, the system was collapsing. The last surveillance hub shorted out. The recording feeds went dark.No more eyes. No more experiments.A voice cracked through the intercoms—garbled, male. Familiar.“Lydia, stop. You don’t understand what she is.”She skidded to a halt, breathing hard.Echo froze beside her.Lydia tilted her face toward the ceiling. “Then come explain it to me face-to-face.”Silence.Coward.They started running again.They passed old doors Lydia remembered only in fragments—hallways that smelled like sedation and sweat. Observation rooms with shattered glass. Burned-out bulbs. Metal trays still staine

Lydia didn’t knock when she entered Damian’s quarters.She didn’t need to.The corridor was silent. The lights low. A hush blanketed the space like velvet tension—and when the door clicked shut behind her, the lock slid into place like a kiss made of metal.He turned slowly from the window, shirt undone, shadows catching in the hollow of his throat. Bare chest rising. But it wasn’t desire that tensed his jaw when he saw her.It was something else.Something close to fear.Lydia said nothing.She simply stepped into the room barefoot, wrapped in the thin silk of the same robe he once stripped from her in secrecy. The one from the chamber. The one he thought he buried with the past.She held nothing.No journal.No weapons.No excuses.Just her.But the way she looked at him—cold, coiled, unreadable—made him pause.“Lydia…” Damian’s voice was low, uncertain. “You weren’t supposed to go that deep.”She smiled.Not warmth. Not forgiveness.Something more dangerous.“I did,” she said, taki