Chapter Ten
Thunder cracked across the sky as Selene ran.
Her bare feet hit the marble floors like war drums, the cold seeping into her bones. Damien's hand gripped hers like a lifeline, dragging her through the west wing's hidden corridor as distant voices echoed behind them—muffled shouts, rushed footsteps, someone shouting Ava's name.
The mansion had turned into a labyrinth of secrets and threats.
"Down here," Damien ordered, pushing open a narrow steel door at the end of the hall. Behind it: a spiral staircase descending into darkness.
Selene hesitated.
"Now, Selene," he snapped.
She went.
The stairs wound downward like a spine, every step creaking under their weight. She clutched the flash drive in one hand like it was her last breath. The moment the computer screen had blacked out, she knew this wasn't over. Someone had cut the power—not to protect them.
But to keep them silent.
At the bottom of the stairs, the passage opened into an old wine cellar—massive, dusty, and lined with ancient brick walls. Damien crossed to the far wall and shoved aside a wine rack to reveal another hidden panel.
He had escape routes in his wine cellar.
"How many secrets are built into this house?" Selene asked, heart still pounding.
Damien didn't answer. He typed a code into the panel and the wall slid open with a hiss, revealing a long underground tunnel.
"Enough to stay alive," he said darkly. "Come."
They stepped into the tunnel just as the cellar door above creaked open again. Voices drifted down—sharp, angry, urgent.
Selene's breath hitched.
Damien slammed the panel shut behind them, cloaking them in darkness once again.
Twenty minutes later…
They emerged into the woods behind the estate, the rain falling in cold, stinging sheets. A sleek black car was hidden in the trees—one of Damien's emergency vehicles. As soon as they were inside, he locked the doors and hit the ignition.
The interior was silent except for Selene's breathing and the low growl of the engine.
"Who were they?" she asked. "The people in the house."
Damien's jaw was clenched tight, his eyes trained on the road.
"I don't know."
"Don't lie to me."
"I'm not."
Selene stared at him. "Ava knew. She said you weren't the only one with something to lose. She knew they were coming."
Damien didn't speak.
And maybe that was her answer.
Selene turned to the flash drive in her hand. "I want to see it. Now."
"We don't know who's tracking it," Damien said. "Opening that drive without precautions could trigger a location ping. Or worse."
"Then we find someone who can open it safely."
Damien gave her a look. "Do you know anyone you can trust with something like this?"
She hesitated.
And then: "Yes. My brother."
Damien blinked. "You have a brother?"
"Half-brother. His name's Jude. He works in cybersecurity. Keeps to himself, but he owes me a favor."
Damien seemed to weigh the idea. Then he nodded. "Then we go to him."
Hours later — Brooklyn, NY
Jude's apartment was a fortress—windows blacked out, walls lined with monitors, towers of servers humming in every corner. He was thin, sharp-eyed, mid-thirties, with a cynical edge that said he trusted no one.
He opened the door with a scowl and a sigh.
"Selene. You look like hell."
"Thanks. I brought you a job."
Jude glanced over her shoulder. His eyes narrowed at Damien. "And who's he?"
Selene stepped past him. "The one paying for dinner if you do this right."
Within minutes, Jude had the flash drive plugged into a dedicated sandbox system—no internet, no external access. Just a sealed environment.
"Let's see what your mystery girl wanted the world to know," he muttered.
The drive opened.
Files spilled across the screen.
And then—
A video began to play.
Selene and Damien leaned closer.
A woman's voice filled the room—clear, beautiful, familiar.
Elara.
"If you're watching this, I'm probably dead."
Selene's heart stopped.
The screen showed Elara sitting in a dimly lit room, eyes rimmed red, lips pressed tight.
"This is bigger than I thought. They're laundering money through the Black Foundation—millions, maybe billions, being funneled through shell charities to off-shore accounts. It's tied to the Vale estate. And it's not just Damien's father… it's the board. The clients. The men who come to our events in silk suits and glass smiles. They're using people, selling names, selling lives."
Damien didn't move.
"I found the ledger. I found the list. It's in the vault. But I don't think I'll make it to sunrise."
The screen flickered.
The camera shook.
"If anything happens to me… find Selene. She's the only one I trust."
Selene gasped.
Damien turned sharply. "She named you?"
Jude leaned back, stunned. "She recorded this months ago, right?"
"Yes," Selene whispered.
"But how did she know about you?"
No one spoke.
Until Damien said, softly, "Unless she planned it."
Outside, the wind howled.
Inside, Selene stared at the screen, heart in her throat, as a single sentence scrawled itself across the final frame of Elara's recording.
They'll come for you too, Selene. Just like they came for me.
And in the corner of the screen, barely visible in the grainy footage—a figure moved behind Elara.
Not Damien.
But Ava.