POV: Chris Blackwood
My voice thundered through the palace command room.
"GET ME THE HEAD OF PALACE SECURITY. NOW!"
The guards around me stiffened. One darted off like lightning. Another lowered his eyes, already sensing the storm that was about to break.
Minutes passed like molasses in fire. My fingers tapped against the steel rail of the upper observation deck, eyes glued to the holographic replay of the castle's surveillance grid. Still, I saw nothing. No blip. No breach. No motion alert. It was as if the girl had walked in as a ghost.
Ghosts don't bleed.
Then the doors opened.
Commander Varrick—the Head of Palace Security—stepped in. Tall, square-shouldered, with a salt-and-pepper beard and a rigid stance. He saluted crisply.
"You summoned me, Supreme Leader."
"Drop the formalities," I said coldly. "Tell me how a rebellious girl waltzed into my castle, reached my chamber wing, and nearly got to my wife and me while we were asleep."
He didn't blink. "There was no logged breach, sir. All systems—mechanical and magical—registered clear. We reviewed the past six hours in the logs. There's no trace of her entering."
I stepped closer, eye to eye now.
"Then explain the blood on my floors. The cuffs on her wrists. The sigil of the old rebellion tucked in her clothes. You're telling me she teleported in? Or do I have a mole?"
His lips tightened. "If it's a mole, it's high-ranking. She had clearances even my second-in-command doesn't have. Either that… or she had help from someone in the royal inner circle."
That word hit like an explosion in my chest: inner circle.
The only people who had those kinds of clearances?
My wife.
My son.
My council.
Amara.
I took a breath. "Do a full biometric and magical trace on every staff member with inner-circle access. Starting from the day before the breach until now. Run the mirror-network logbacks. I want to know who turned off which security layer. Someone let her in."
"Yes, my lord."
I turned back to the screen.
No more peace behind gilded curtains. This castle had rot somewhere in its golden walls—and I would find it.
And when I did, I wouldn't just bleed them.
I'd erase them from Blackwood memory.
TO BE CONTINUED…