CHAPTER SEVEN: THE DEAL FORGED IN SILENCE.
[Life is like chess—sometimes, the most powerful move is not in taking, but in waiting.]
The rain hadn't fallen yet, but the air was drenched in anticipation.
Aspen stood at the edge of the ruined district—the place where the city swallowed its sins whole. Neon signs flickered behind her, casting long shadows that twisted around her slender figure. She didn't run. Didn't flinch. She waited.
Then they came.
Black suits, faceless masks, silent formation. Just like Cipher had once experienced, they moved like ghosts, surrounding Aspen from all sides. But unlike Cipher, she didn't resist. Instead, she smirked, flipping a tiny silver device between her fingers—a grenade disguised as a child's locket.
"Took you long enough," she murmured.
With practiced grace, she let them seize her. Let them restrain her. Let them blindfold her. All according to her plan.
Because she knew exactly where they'd take her.
They seized her arms. She let them. They blindfolded her. She rolled her eyes. They shoved her into the van. She yawned.
The drive was long and quiet, filled with the low hum of tires and suspicion.
When the blindfold was removed, she was exactly where she expected to be.
The same room that Cipher had seen before—the one with no name, no number, and no warmth. The walls were white, and fluorescent lights flickered above. A metal chair was bolted to the ground.
The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead while silence enveloped her like a straightjacket. However, Aspen lounged in the cold metal chair as if it were her throne.
The Interrogation Room.
Aspen dropped into the seat like she owned it, crossing her legs and drumming her fingers on the metal table. Her purple eyes shimmered beneath her lashes, filled with mischief and calculation.
Then he entered.
Icarus.
Tall. Refined. Imposing. Dressed in black as if mourning the light.
Immaculate. Composed. Dangerous.
He didn't sit immediately. He observed her first, the way a general sizes up a wild card. She didn't avert her gaze.
He finally sat down across from her, elbows on the table, fingers steepled.
"You knew we'd come."
Aspen shrugged lazily. "Didn't take a genius."
He watched her with eyes that dissected lies before they were born.
"You could've killed the men who brought you."
"Would've taken me five seconds, max." Aspen tilted her head, her purple eyes glowing like coals. "If I wanted to kill them, I'd be bored already. I'm here on purpose."
A pause. Then Icarus smiled faintly.
"You want a deal."
"Smart and pretty," Aspen chuckled. "I want access. Zareina's coming in a week. I plan to be near when she arrives."
"And why would you want that?" Icarus leaned forward.
She stopped smiling.
"You know why. We both do. You heard about her from your boss. I saw her.The storm she carries inside her... you're not the only one obsessed."
That word settled like smoke between them.
Obsessed.
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Silence.
Something unreadable flickered in Icarus's eyes.
"You think you can get close to her?"
"No," Aspen said smoothly. "I will. That's my condition. You let me stay. I help you. I keep an eye on her… and you get to keep playing chess with your queen."
Icarus's smile returned, colder this time. "You're not afraid of being used, are you?"
"I'm the one holding the screwdriver, darling." Her voice was silk layered over steel. "You just haven't seen which wire I'm planning to cut."
His silence was an invitation.
"I need to," Aspen corrected. "You want control. I want the chaos. Together, we might survive what she becomes."
A moment passed.
Then Icarus chuckled—a rare, cold sound that felt like breaking glass. "You're either brilliant or reckless."
"Can't it be both?"
He leaned back. "What do you want in return?"
"Access. Workshop. Freedom. And no one touches me without my consent."
"Done."
"That easy?" Aspen arched a brow.
"You came to me of your own will. Anyone that bold either dies young or changes the game. I prefer the latter."
The door behind them hissed open.
Cipher entered.
She paused at the sight of Aspen, recognition flickering in her gaze.
Aspen smirked. "Oh look. We meet again, Ghost Girl."
Icarus stood. "Aspen, meet Cipher. Cipher, keep an eye on our new engineer."
"Only if she doesn't blow the place up," Cipher muttered.
Aspen winked. "No promises."
"Also," Aspen looked at Icarus,"You keep your secrets—I don't care. But when Zareina comes, I'll be ready. And maybe… you'll thank me for it."
Silence.
Then a sound—soft, amused. A chuckle. The first time Icarus had ever laughed with warmth.
"…You're more dangerous than Cipher."
"Please," Aspen said, tossing her hair over one shoulder. "That little hacker-girl's still trying to crack your code. I'm already three moves ahead."
And thus, the deal was forged.
A spark lit the room—not from any explosion, but from the unspoken warning shared between three dangerous minds.
Zareina was coming.
And the game had only just begun.
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somewhere else, far away from the white interrogation chamber and its silent cold war…
Zareina Ravyn was awake.
Beneath a canopy of shifting shadows in her dimly lit apartment, a lone lamp buzzed softly. The walls of her hidden room—the room no one knew existed—were plastered with case notes, red strings, photographs with faces half-burned or slashed, the chaotic mind-map of a girl who saw more than she ever confessed.
She sat cross-legged on the floor, hoodie on, mask discarded, eyes glowing faintly mismatched in the muted light. One hand toyed with the metallic badge Aspen had left her with.
It was heavier than it looked—brushed steel etched with a crest of thorns and stars. A symbol that didn't officially exist. A calling card of something… darker.
Her thumb brushed its edge again. It was warm.
Or maybe that was her.
Beside it lay a letter.
Folded with precision. No name. No return mark. But the wax seal—deep blue and engraved with a dragon's eye—was unmistakable.
Icarus.
She had broken the seal three nights ago.
She hadn't slept since.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she reread the words scrawled in elegant, predatory script.
"Curiosity is the first symptom of destiny, Zareina.
The world you hide from is already walking toward you.
Consider this letter a prelude—not a threat. You are seen.
You are chosen.
And when you're ready to stop pretending you're ordinary...
Come find me."
There was no signature.
Just a smear of ash and a faint smell of metal and roses.
She didn't know whether she wanted to rip it or preserve it in glass.
Zareina stared at the badge again.
Aspen had passed it to her so casually, like giving away a mint. But something about it… the design, the balance, the cool bite it left on her palm… it meant something. A marker. An invitation.
And the way Aspen had looked at her—
Like she wasn't a mystery to solve, but a match to strike.
Her mismatched eyes flickered—left, then right. Red shimmered briefly where there should be green.
She stood slowly.
Somewhere far away, the storm hadn't started yet.
But the wind was shifting.
(To be continued)