Her boots slammed against the concrete as she darted through the east wing stairwell, heart slamming louder than her footsteps. The USB drive burned in her fist like a live fuse. She didn't look back — she didn't need to. She knew what she saw in Azriel's eyes.
Recognition.
Rage.
Something ancient and buried clawing its way back to the surface.
He hadn't chased her.
Not yet.
But that didn't mean she was safe.
Her breath caught as she slipped into a side corridor. Fluorescent lights flickered above her, buzzing like warning sirens. She ducked behind a maintenance door, knelt low, and forced herself to breathe.
Focus. Move.
She yanked out her burner phone, plugged in the drive, and opened the encrypted files. Her fingers shook as page after page spilled onto the screen—documents, bank transfers, surveillance logs. Most had the Moreaux crest at the header. Others… bore the sigil of a different empire. Something older.
And then she saw it.
A folder labeled "Project Chimera."
Last accessed: 3 days ago.
By: AZRIEL M. MOREAUX.
She stared at it.
Her lungs froze.
Azriel had opened it.
Which meant he'd known.
Maybe not everything.
But enough.
He's not just part of this. He's deep in it.
But why hadn't he tried to stop her?
Across campus, Azriel stood in the dark, still facing the rooftop door Elira had slammed behind her.
He hadn't moved.
Not because he couldn't.
Because he didn't need to.
He could've chased her. He could've caught her.
But that wasn't the plan.
He wanted to see what she'd do next.
The fire in her eyes — that wasn't panic. That was strategy. She'd taken the drive like it was hers. Like she knew exactly what to look for. And that terrified him in a way nothing else had.
Because it meant she'd been digging for longer than he realized.
Years, maybe.
She knew the system.
She knew him.
And she wasn't running out of fear.
She was running toward something.
He pulled out his phone, entered a code, and tracked the hidden ping inside the USB. She'd activated it the moment she opened it.
Bait. Good girl.
"Let's see what you do now, little ghost," he whispered, and vanished into the night.
Elira moved fast.
She didn't trust the school's Wi-Fi. She rerouted through three VPNs and still felt like eyes were on her. She reached her dorm, locked the door, and shoved a chair under the handle for good measure.
She sat on the floor, back pressed to the wall, and opened the "Project Chimera" folder.
What she saw made her blood run cold.
Trafficking manifests. Experimentation records. Names of orphaned girls.
Some were just numbers.
Others were coded with colors.
But what made her drop the phone…
was the photo embedded halfway through the folder.
A girl.
Her.
Or at least, the version of her when she was just twelve.
Hair tangled. Blood smeared across her temple. A number stenciled in red across her collarbone: #C-027.
She hadn't seen that photo since she escaped.
She didn't even remember it being taken.
Below it was a line in bold.
Subject presumed unstable. Intelligence above projection. May retaliate if not neutralized before maturation.
And underneath it—
Recommend elimination by 18th birthday.
She blinked. Her hands trembled. Her 18th birthday had passed 9 years ago.
And she was still alive.
Why?
Because someone stopped the order.
And only one name appeared in the approval section of the termination request.
Azriel Moreaux — denied.
The knock on her door was too soft to be casual.
Elira froze.
Then another knock. Firmer.
She moved silently to the door, pressed her ear to the wood.
A pause.
Then — his voice.
"I didn't come to hurt you, Vale."
Cold. Controlled.
But behind it was something else.
Wounded. Warned.
She didn't respond.
"I saw the files," he said. "You were never supposed to find them."
"I did," she replied, back still against the wall. "And now what? You kill me for it?"
"Do I need to?"
The silence between them was a scream.
Finally, she opened the door a crack. Just enough to look into his eyes. But not enough to invite him in.
"I know what they did," she said quietly. "I know what you didn't stop."
"I was twelve."
"And now?"
Azriel leaned closer. "Now I don't know what's worse — what they did to you, or what they made me become."
Elira's throat tightened.
He wasn't asking for forgiveness.
He was naming the war inside him.
"I denied the kill order," he continued. "But I didn't stop the program."
"Why?"
His jaw clenched. "Because I thought you were already dead. And if you weren't… I hoped you were far enough away from all of this."
Her hand gripped the edge of the door.
"You're a liar, Azriel. You knew I was alive. You saw me tonight. You remembered."
"I did."
"Then why didn't you stop me?"
He stared at her.
Long. Dark. Unblinking.
"Because part of me," he said softly, "wants to watch the whole empire burn. And if you're the match, Vale… I'd rather burn with you than stand in the ashes alone."
She let him in.
Just for that night.
Not because she trusted him.
But because she needed to see what kind of monster he was willing to be.
Azriel stood in the center of her room, gaze sweeping over the scattered files, the open laptop, the photos of girls no one ever looked for.
He picked one up.
A girl with a scar across her cheek. Coded: "Blue."
"She escaped," Elira said. "I got her out last year."
"And the others?"
"Still ghosts."
Azriel lowered the paper.
"I can help," he said.
She turned to him. "You're the heir to their empire."
"I never wanted it."
She stepped closer. "You could've stopped them."
"I know."
"And now?"
His voice dropped. "Now I want to destroy them."
Their eyes locked.
No romance. No softness.
Just war. Waiting.
But when she turned back to the USB, she noticed something she hadn't before.
A final folder.
"C-027: Extraction Protocol"
Last modified: 48 hours ago.
She clicked it.
Inside were timestamps.
GPS trackers.
Flight plans.
Her exact dorm location.
A scheduled extraction for tomorrow at 3:00 a.m.
Azriel saw it too.
His expression turned cold.
"You're not safe here," he said.
"Tell me something I don't know."
He stepped closer. "Pack your things. You're coming with me."
She stiffened. "I don't run."
"This isn't running, Vale. It's warfare."
"And you think I should trust you?"
He didn't answer.
He just handed her a burner phone.
"Either you come with me," he said, "or you disappear before they do it for you."