The silence inside the SUV felt louder than the fire they'd escaped.
Adrienne.
Alethea leaned forward, her mind rewinding through every interaction, every soft laugh, every moment of trust.
"She was with me since day one," she whispered.
"She was placed beside you since day one," Marco corrected, his voice like ice.
Lucien was already tracing the signal. "The data dump originated from Zurich. But it's bounced—Geneva, Oslo, Berlin. Someone's covering their trail like a pro."
Alethea turned to Monarch. "Did you know?"
Monarch looked away.
That was answer enough.
"Then she was always part of it," Alethea said bitterly. "All those coffee talks, the nights she held me while I cried... fake."
Marco's jaw twitched. "She didn't fake everything. There's too much emotion in those tapes. If she's a traitor, she's a conflicted one."
"Conflicted people still pull triggers," Alethea snapped.
Lucien interrupted, "Incoming message. Priority tag: Project Seraphim."
The car's dashboard lit up, projecting a distorted video.
Adrienne.
Her face—older, sharper, colder.
But her eyes? Still painfully familiar.
"Alethea. If you're seeing this, the dominoes have fallen. You weren't supposed to survive Monarch. But you did—like always. Listen carefully."
"This isn't just about control. It never was. You are the last Seraphim. The prototype with a soul. The girl with a heart too soft for war, but too strong to be erased."
"They want to use you. The billionaires, the board, Marco—even if he doesn't realize it yet."
"If you trust me—meet me at the Eden Spire in Prague. Midnight. Come alone."
The screen went black.
Marco's fingers curled into a fist. "It's a trap."
Alethea met his gaze. "Of course it is. But I need to know the truth. All of it."
Lucien added, "If Adrienne leaked everything, then every agency will come hunting. You're not just a weapon now, Alethea. You're the secret everyone wants to control."
Marco grabbed the wheel. "Then we don't run."
Alethea turned to him. "What do you mean?"
"We expose them first," he said. "Every board member. Every buyer. Every puppet master in the shadows who funded Seraphim."
"And how do you plan to do that?" Lucien asked.
Marco looked at Alethea.
"With her."
---
That night, in a hidden penthouse above Prague, Alethea suited up.
No longer the girl in lace and innocence.
But the weapon wrapped in silk and fire.
"Adrienne trained me," she whispered as she slid a blade into her boot.
"She'll expect every move I make."
Marco came up behind her, fixing the collar of her coat.
"Then surprise her."
Alethea looked at him in the mirror.
"You'd still trust me after all this?"
He brushed her hair over her shoulder and kissed the curve of her neck.
"You're the storm that broke my world, Alethea. And I'll burn every empire that tries to cage you."
---
Midnight.
Eden Spire.
Alethea stood alone beneath a marble archway.
Adrienne emerged from the shadows, wearing white.
Unarmed.
Smiling.
"You came."
Alethea's hand rested near the hidden weapon on her thigh. "You betrayed me."
Adrienne's smile faded.
"I saved you."
A pause.
Then:
"You were never meant to die. But they wanted to erase you. I leaked the files so you could control the narrative."
Alethea's eyes burned. "You turned me into a fugitive."
Adrienne stepped closer. "I turned you into a queen."
Alethea's blade glinted.
But she didn't raise it.
Because behind Adrienne…
Snipers.
Dozens.
Red dots danced across her chest.
And a voice echoed from hidden speakers.
"Thank you for gathering them, Adrienne. Step away from Subject Zero."
Adrienne's expression twisted.
"No. NO. This wasn't the plan."
Gunfire erupted.
Alethea dove.
Adrienne screamed.
And the Eden Spire became a war zone.
Smoke coiled through the shattered windows of the Eden Spire, turning the luxurious skyline of Prague into a blurred nightmare.
Alethea's heart pounded as she dragged Adrienne behind a fallen marble pillar.
Blood soaked Adrienne's shoulder. Not fatal, but enough to weaken her grip—and her secrets.
"Why?" Alethea hissed, pressing her palm against the wound. "Why lead me here if they were waiting?"
Adrienne coughed, crimson on her lips. "I—I didn't know. I swear to God, Thea. I thought... I thought I could use the Seraphim files as leverage. Make them back off."
"You underestimated their greed," Alethea said coldly.
Adrienne gripped her wrist. "And you underestimated your power."
A thunderous crack silenced them.
A figure descended through the glass ceiling on a tactical harness—black combat suit, no insignia.
Lucien.
"I told you not to come alone," he muttered, pulling them behind cover as bullets shredded the tiles around them.
"Is Marco—?"
"He's coming. But the Board sent in their private army. Elysian Operatives. Trained to neutralize you on sight."
Alethea smirked despite the chaos. "Neutralize me? Cute."
She grabbed a blade from Lucien's belt, and just like that—she was gone.
Silent.
Deadly.
---
Marco stood atop a nearby building, eyes locked on the battlefield below. His earpiece buzzed with Monarch's voice.
"They've unleashed Protocol Erebus."
His jaw clenched. "All of them?"
"Every Board faction. The Russians, the Dubai circle, even Geneva's tech syndicate. They're here to erase the last trace of Seraphim—including her."
Marco's pulse raced. He turned to the sniper team behind him.
"Switch to thermal. Don't shoot unless she's in danger."
"Copy. But boss, with all due respect... if they get her—"
"They won't," Marco growled. "Not while I'm breathing."
---
Below, Alethea danced with death.
She moved like a shadow through the operatives—each step calculated, each movement precise. She wasn't just surviving.
She was hunting.
Blades flashed.
Bones cracked.
And by the time Lucien caught up, a half-dozen soldiers were down.
"She's evolving," he whispered.
Adrienne sat slumped against a column, watching the woman she once mentored turn into something... divine.
Or dangerous.
"She's not like the others," Adrienne whispered. "She's beyond them. Beyond us."
Lucien nodded grimly. "She's becoming exactly what they feared."
---
Amid the rubble, Alethea reached the command post the operatives had set up.
She hacked in—fingers flying across the keypad, heart steady.
Inside were files.
Not just about her.
But about others.
Project Seraphim wasn't the end.
It was the beginning.
"SUBJECT VERA – CODE: BLOODLOTUS – Located: Tokyo"
"SUBJECT ELIOR – CODE: CELESTIAL THORN – Located: Marrakesh"
"SUBJECT ZIRAN – CODE: BLACK MIRROR – Status: Deceased (Last known: Dubai)"
Her breath hitched.
They made others.
She wasn't alone.
She wasn't special.
She was replaceable.
She stepped back.
And froze.
Behind her—gun cocked.
Board Executive #4: Damien Lux, the Swiss pharma mogul.
"You really thought you were the storm?" he hissed. "You were just the warning."
Bangggg!!!!!
He fired.
But the bullet never reached her.
Marco appeared like death itself, shoving her aside and taking the hit.
Straight to his side.
"No!" she screamed, catching him as he collapsed.
Damien raised his gun again—but Adrienne, bloodied and pale, emptied her own clip into his chest from behind.
One.
Two.
Three.
Until Damien crumpled like a broken puppet.
Alethea's hands trembled as she cradled Marco.
He looked up at her, blood seeping from his side.
"Still breathing," he rasped. "But damn… you owe me dinner now."
She laughed through tears. "You idiot."
He touched her cheek.
"No more running, Alethea."
She nodded, lips trembling.
"Then let's burn them all."
TBC..................