Chapter 40 – The Fire Beneath the Ashes
Chapter 40 – The Fire Beneath the Ashes
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Smoke curled from the ceiling vents like tendrils of a waking beast.
Damon ran.
His boots slammed against steel floors, the sirens howling above him like mechanical wolves. He didn’t stop to breathe. There wasn’t time—not with the timer blinking red on the panel beside the vault door.
02:42
Two minutes and forty-two seconds before everything collapsed.
He swerved into the control room—the same space where Elijah’s voice had mocked them. It was empty now. But not abandoned.
Someone had been here recently. The air was warm. The floor had fresh footprints. And on the table, a single note scribbled in elegant script:
You should have stayed buried, brother.
Damon stared at it.
Brother?
A new dread sank into his gut.
He grabbed the encrypted drives from the desk, slammed them into his backpack, and sprinted toward the north corridor. As he ran, he pulled a small device from his coat—a signal jammer—to delay the final sequence.
The screen blinked.
JAMMING... 78%... 89%...
PAUSED AT 00:49.
Just enough time.
He ducked into a side tunnel and activated a hidden latch in the wall—an old service exit. A rusted ladder dropped down into blackness.
He climbed.
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[Verona – Hilltop Safehouse]
Aurora stood outside the safehouse, trembling.
She’d made it out of the underground just as the lights began to flicker. The hill behind her rumbled faintly, the earth shuddering like it wanted to scream.
She watched it all from the distance—alone.
A van pulled up behind her.
The driver’s door opened. Celeste stepped out, breathless and disheveled, her heels long discarded for combat boots.
“I came as fast as I could,” she said, crossing to her. “Where’s Damon?”
Aurora looked away. “Inside. I think.”
Celeste grabbed her shoulders. “Did he send you out alone?”
“He stayed to slow the countdown,” Aurora muttered. “He gave me this.” She held out the flash drive.
Celeste’s face hardened. “Then he’s still fighting.”
The ground behind them shook—a deep, guttural quake.
A pillar of smoke burst from the vineyard ruin below. Glass shattered. A fireball bloomed into the dusky sky.
Aurora screamed. “DAMON!”
“No—NO,” Celeste growled, grabbing her. “We’re not going to assume anything. He’s Damon Moretti. He’s the bastard son of survival.”
They both stood frozen for a moment.
Then—a figure emerged from the dust.
Covered in ash, bleeding from one temple, and carrying a bag of scorched evidence—Damon limped toward them, smoke trailing his silhouette like a ghost.
Aurora ran to him.
He dropped the bag at her feet and collapsed into her arms.
“Told you I’d catch up,” he rasped.
She buried her face in his chest, sobbing.
Celeste stood back, folding her arms, eyes glinting. “Drama queen.”
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[Later That Night – Inside the Safehouse]
The three sat around a makeshift dining table, the flash drive plugged into a secure laptop.
Images flicked across the screen—blueprints, genetic test records, voice memos.
Most bore one name at the footer:
Project Genesis: Oversight – Voss, E.
“Your father oversaw this?” Aurora asked.
Damon nodded grimly. “He didn’t start it. But he made sure it never ended.”
Celeste leaned closer. “And yet he wasn't alone.”
She opened a secondary file—one Damon hadn’t seen yet.
It listed several contributors to the project. One of them caught his eye immediately.
Code: Sigma Gray. Alias: O.
Damon stared at it.
“Who the hell is O?”
Celeste’s lips tightened. “The one behind Elijah. The one he answers to.”
A silence stretched.
Aurora clicked on another document.
It was a ledger. Payments made. One name stood out, again and again.
Elijah Voss.
Damon’s jaw clenched. “He was never after revenge. He was making investments.”
“In people,” Celeste added. “In trauma. That’s what this was. A trauma test lab. They pushed kids to their limits to see who’d break and who’d evolve.”
Aurora looked away.
Damon touched her hand under the table.
“I’m here now,” he whispered again.
She nodded.
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[Meanwhile – Zurich]
A sleek glass tower rose over the dark skyline.
Inside, Elijah Voss nursed a drink. Across from him, behind a black privacy veil, sat O.
Only their hands were visible. Gloves. Pale fingers. Tapping slowly against a briefcase.
Elijah smirked. “He found the files.”
“And the girl?” O asked.
“Shaken. But still playing hero.”
The figure leaned forward, voice low and smooth.
“Good. Let him believe he’s winning.”
Elijah tilted his head. “You’re obsessed with him.”
“He’s mine,” the figure said. “He just doesn’t know it yet.”
“Do you still want her eliminated?”
“No,” said O. “Not yet. She’ll break him better than death ever could.”
Elijah’s smile faltered. “You’re enjoying this too much.”
“That’s the point,” O whispered. “This isn’t revenge. It’s art.”
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[Safehouse – Bedroom, Midnight]
Damon sat on the bed, shirt off, cleaning a shallow wound. Aurora walked in silently.
“Need help?” she asked.
He nodded.
She gently pressed a cloth to his shoulder.
“I hate that I still love you,” she murmured.
He looked up at her.
“I hate that I didn’t stop loving you,” he replied.
A silence stretched.
Then he said, “I think we’re in a new war now. One we can’t see coming.”
“We’ll fight it,” she said.
He touched her cheek. “Together?”
She nodded.
And for the first time in days, they both let themselves smile.
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