Chapter 5: Shadow Archives
Mara stared at Damien, then down at the floor like the wood might explain itself.
"Let me get this straight," she said. "You're being hunted by an organization that marks their masks with raven wings, you have a secret panic room hidden behind a bookshelf, and now we're supposed to trust a folder labeled DO NOT OPEN UNDER PENALTY OF EXTREME DEATH?"
Damien, as always, didn't flinch. "It's not labeled that."
Mara held up the black folder. "It might as well be."
He walked past her and punched something into a keypad behind the fireplace. A panel hissed open to reveal yet another hidden compartment — because of course there was another one. Why stop at two when you can have an entire IKEA catalog of secret doors?
Mara muttered, "Does your fridge open up to a secret tunnel too, or is that where you keep the real skeletons?"
He didn't answer. Which was worrying.
Inside the panel, Damien pulled out a hard drive — small, matte black, with a silver raven insignia etched on top.
"Found it," he said.
"Great. Now plug it in and let's see what Netflix recommends for people being hunted by shadow cults."
"No Wi-Fi."
"Of course not."
They moved to the study, Mara keeping her pistol nearby just in case the printer tried anything shady. Damien connected the drive to an offline laptop, typing with the kind of speed that suggested he didn't just major in finance.
Files opened.
Photos. Maps. Strings of redacted documents with keywords like RAVENMARK, GENETIC CODING, MEMORY CLEAVE PROJECT. The screen might as well have flashed: "This plot thickens — grab popcorn."
Mara leaned in, brow furrowed. "What is this? These look like black ops files. Government. Private contractors. Some of these dates go back twenty years."
Damien nodded, jaw tight. "It's a program I was part of. Not willingly."
"Oh, good. Brainwashing. That's always a solid foundation for trust."
"They use people. Erase their pasts, rewrite memories, restructure behavior. Soldiers, agents… even civilians. If someone's DNA met a certain criteria, they were marked for inclusion."
Mara blinked. "Okay, no offense, but were you born or 3D printed?"
He clicked through to a photo — grainy surveillance of a masked figure exiting a helicopter.
"That symbol on the mask? It's not just for fear. It's their signature. They call themselves The Inheritance Order. And they don't just destroy threats. They rewrite them."
She sat back slowly. "You're saying someone tried to erase you. Rebuild you."
"They succeeded. Mostly."
Mara stared. "That's… terrifying. Also explains why your idea of a fun weekend is surviving an ambush in cashmere socks."
A silence stretched between them — tense, until Mara added, "So do they have, like, a secret handshake? Or is it just blood oaths and awkward PowerPoints?"
Damien cracked a dry smile. "More awkward PowerPoints than you'd think."
Before she could retort, the laptop beeped.
A live file opened. A countdown started on the screen — 60 seconds.
Damien swore and yanked the drive, but it was too late.
Text flashed across the screen:
WE SEE YOU.
STAY OUT OF OUR GRAVES.
Then the screen went dark. The laptop shorted out with a sizzle.
Mara stood. "Okay. Cool. Great. So the evil bird people know we're snooping. Anything else you forgot to mention? Like a secret twin? A cursed painting? A demonic cat named Gerald?"
But Damien was already moving.
"Get your things. We're not staying here."
Mara blinked. "Wait. We're going outside?"
Damien stood by the panel, one hand on the biometric lock. "Yes."
She looked at him like he'd suggested skydiving without a parachute. "You? Outside? Is this a hostage situation?"
"I'm not agoraphobic," he said flatly.
"No, you're just highly allergic to the real world."
He ignored her and pressed his thumb to the sensor. The hallway lights buzzed to life. Mara raised a brow.
"So what's the plan? Take a leisurely stroll into enemy territory? Grab coffee while we're at it?"
Damien adjusted his cufflinks like he wasn't about to break his sacred never-leave-the-penthouse code. "I need answers. And the kind I'm looking for don't come from behind reinforced glass."
She grabbed her jacket. "Alright, Dracula. Let's go see if you survive sunlight."
He gave her a look that said you're impossible, but there was a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth. Not quite a smile — more like a man regretting every decision that brought him to this moment.
As the doors slid open, Mara stepped out first, gun holstered, sarcasm loaded.
"Don't worry," she said over her shoulder. "I promise not to tell your walls you cheated on them."
Damien sighed. "If I get shot because of your mouth…"
She grinned. "Then at least your penthouse will be safe again."
And with that, they disappeared into the corridor — two dangerous people, finally stepping into a world neither of them could predict.
Next Time on Confined With Voss: Chapter 6 – The Handler
Mara and Damien go off-grid.
But going off-grid doesn't mean going safe.
Especially when The Handler — a former member of the Order — has his own twisted agenda.
And the only thing more dangerous than the truth…
Is trusting the wrong person with it.