POV: Chris Blackwood
The palace's underground chamber had never felt colder.
I stood behind the one-way glass, staring at the girl seated across the steel table. Her hands were cuffed, blood crusted on her knuckles from resisting arrest. A medic had cleaned her wounds—Amara made sure we didn't look like barbarians—but that didn't mean she wasn't still dangerous.
Seventeen, maybe. Brown eyes burning like embers. I could already tell: this wasn't someone sent to kill. She was sent to provoke, to be caught. A message wrapped in skin and defiance.
"Bring her in," I said.
The doors opened. The girl didn't flinch as I entered. Didn't rise. Her eyes locked with mine—no fear, just… hatred. Deep, unrelenting hatred.
I didn't sit. I leaned forward slowly and placed the broken patch she wore on the table. The old Blackwood Rebellion sigil. Three phoenix feathers curved around a broken crown. My jaw tightened.
"Where did you get this?" I asked.
Silence.
"I asked you a question," I repeated, voice even but cold.
She finally spoke. "You already know. You burned them out. But we're embers, Chris. And embers always find oxygen."
"You're a child," I said, eyes narrowing. "You don't know the weight of your words."
Her voice sharpened. "I know my father died with your symbol etched into his chest. I know my mother raised me on whispers of justice while hiding from your patrols. I know your 'peace' is a lie built on silence."
I clenched my fists, but Amara's voice echoed in my head—Don't act emotionally. Assess. Control. Own the room.
I exhaled slowly. "What's your name?"
She smirked. "Would you let me keep it, if I told you?"
Silence.
I stepped back. "Fine. Then I'll give you a new one. Prisoner Zero-One. First of the traitor's line."
She flinched—but only slightly. I saw it. The weight of her own insignificance hitting her.
"You're going to tell me everything," I said, now circling her. "Who sent you. Who trained you. How many of you there are. And if you cooperate, I'll consider sparing your memory."
She looked up. "You should be more afraid of who's still out there. You killed the body of the rebellion… but the heart? It's still beating. It's always been inside your walls."
My breath hitched for half a second.
Inside…?
I turned to the guards. "Secure her. Solitary. I want her watched by AI-only surveillance—no human contact. Not even Darius."
They nodded.
As I walked out, my mind buzzed.
Inside our walls?
This wasn't just an attack. It was a declaration.
And I wasn't about to lose my empire from within.