The vault was silent—eerily so, as if even sound was afraid to echo off the steel walls.
Rows of secured files lined both sides. Locked drawers. Cold data terminals. Red folders stamped with the Circle's emblem: a crowned serpent biting its own tail.
Alexander moved to the nearest terminal. "Elias, we're in. Start the data pull."
Elias's voice crackled through the comm. "I'm syncing now. But Voss isn't giving you an hour because he's generous—he wants you to find something. Something specific."
Isabella glanced at the files, fingers brushing across one labeled Project Harrow. Another: Kingsguard Protocol. Then one that made her heart stop: Ophelia Veyne — Classified: Tier Omega.
"My mother?" she whispered.
Alexander looked over her shoulder, brow furrowing. "She was listed as dead before Mercer even took power."
Isabella yanked the file open. Inside were pages of surveillance records, genetic research, and a chilling signature at the bottom—Lucien Voss.
"Why would he have this?"
Suddenly, the vault lights dimmed. A countdown appeared on the nearest monitor.
45:00
Elias cursed. "It's rigged with a secondary lockout. If you're not out before the hour ends, the vault seals… permanently."
Alexander immediately moved to another section. "Let's split. Prioritize anything linked to the Circle's leadership. Isabella—"
"I've got this," she said, pulling a flash drive from her belt and sliding it into the terminal near her mother's file. "I'm not leaving without the truth."
The Hidden Throne
With each passing second, more revelations surfaced: secret government coups backed by Circle funds, assassinations blamed on rogue states, entire economies toppled with quiet precision.
Then, in a far drawer labeled Succession, Isabella found it: a detailed chart—names, faces, bloodlines.
At the top: KING-1: Lucien Voss
Beneath him: CROWNLESS — heir pending confirmation
And below that… Isabella Veyne.
Her blood went cold. "He's grooming me… to take his place."
Alexander joined her, scanning the document. "This is why he's letting us see it. He wants to recruit you."
"No," she breathed. "He wants to own me."
The clock ticked:
17:43
Isabella yanked the drive free. "We're done here."
Alexander nodded grimly. "Let's burn the rest."
Elias's voice came in sharp. "Wait—someone else is entering the building."
"Who?" Alexander asked.
The line crackled. "Not Circle. I think it's... Renwick."
Isabella's eyes widened. "The mercenary?"
"The ghost," Elias said. "And if he's here… Voss never planned to let you leave."