Psychological nightmare

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Chapter Twelve

The emergency chamber hummed with low energy, almost like it had a pulse of its own. Every surface glinted under the faint glow of overhead panels—cold, metallic, and impersonal. But inside, my mind was chaos.

Liam stood by one of the touchscreen panels, entering rapid commands like he’d done it a hundred times before.

“How long are we staying here?” I asked, voice low, eyes darting to the sealed door.

“Not long. We’ll need to move again by nightfall. They won’t stop.” His jaw clenched. “And Scarlett won’t wait.”

Scarlett. That name echoed louder than the threats outside. I pressed my back to the steel wall and tried to steady my breath. “I don’t understand. If she helped build this vault... why is she trying to kill me now?”

“She’s not trying to kill you,” Liam said, tapping something on the screen. “She’s trying to make you desperate enough to open the vault yourself.”

A chill crawled down my spine. “So all of this… the attacks, the threats, the break-in at my apartment

“—was psychological warfare,” he finished grimly. “They want you scared. Isolated. With no one left to trust but them.”

“And you?” I whispered. “Do I trust you, Liam?”

He turned slowly, eyes locked on mine. “You already do. That’s why you’re here. Even when you shouldn’t be.”

My heart fluttered at the intensity in his gaze, but I shoved it down. There wasn’t room for emotion anymore—not in this nightmare. “So what now? We hide?”

“No.” He moved to a compartment in the wall and pulled out a sleek black case. Inside was a device I didn’t recognize—flat, circular, with etched lines glowing faint blue.

“What is that?”

“The decoy key,” he said. “Built from partial fragments of the original code. It’s useless without your DNA, but it might buy us time.”

I blinked. “You made a decoy of my father’s life’s work?”

He met my eyes without flinching. “No. I made it to protect you.”

Before I could respond, the wall screen flashed red. A notification blinked: Incoming transmission – Source: Unknown.

Liam’s expression hardened. “They found the emergency channel.”

The screen flickered, and then she appeared.

Scarlett.

Her face was untouched by time—elegant, poised, deadly. She wore a sleek black suit, lips painted like blood, eyes like ice.

“Hello, Isla,” she purred. “Miss me?”

I stepped forward, fury rising. “What do you want?”

“I think you know.” She leaned forward, her image crystal clear despite the interference. “Open the vault. Give us what belongs to the alliance. No more running.”

“You don’t get to demand anything!” I snapped. “You built this hell. You used me. Lied to me—”

“I protected you!” she hissed, the mask slipping. “Do you have any idea what they would’ve done if I hadn’t—”

“You made me a target!” I shouted.

Silence crackled.

Then, softly, she said, “You’re the last of us, Isla. That vault isn’t just data—it’s leverage. Power. Legacy. Your father died to protect it. Are you going to throw that away for what—principles? Fear?”

Liam cut in. “You don’t get to guilt her into treason.”

Scarlett laughed, cold and bitter. “Oh, Liam. Still playing the noble villain?”

The screen blinked out.

Liam slammed his fist against the console. “She’ll be here soon. We have to go.”

“Go where?” I asked, feeling the walls closing in.

“To the last safe house. The only one not on any Sinclair or Redmond map. My mother’s estate in Raventon.”

I raised a brow. “You have a mother?”

He smirked despite the tension. “She left the game long ago. But she’s the only one who might know how to end this.”

We packed what we could—data drives, the decoy key, a backup power source. Liam armed himself with a newer weapon—compact, deadly.

I noticed something then—a tremor in his hand as he loaded the cartridge.

“You’re scared,” I said quietly.

He paused. “Of losing you? Every second.”

I didn’t have time to respond.

Suddenly, the chamber lights dimmed. A low rumble vibrated beneath our feet.

“Liam?” I whispered.

“They’re breaching the outer tunnels. We need to go. Now.”

He led me through a narrow exit panel that opened into a concealed underground corridor. The moment we stepped in, the door behind us sealed with a hiss.

We ran.

The corridor was longer than I expected—lined with pipes and emergency lights. At the end, an old service elevator waited. Liam keyed in a code, and the metal doors groaned open.

He pushed me inside. “This leads to the Raventon subline. No trackers. No surveillance.”

As the elevator began its slow ascent, I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes.

“Why me?” I whispered. “Why did this have to fall on me?”

Liam was quiet for a moment. Then, softly, “Because your father believed you’d be stronger than all of us.”

I opened my eyes to find him staring at me. “What if he was wrong?”

“He wasn’t.”

The elevator stopped with a lurch. We stepped out into what looked like an abandoned train station—graffiti-covered walls, rusted tracks, and silence thick as fog.

“This way,” Liam said, leading me up a stairwell hidden behind a broken billboard.

When we emerged into the Raventon woods, it felt like stepping into another world. Moonlight filtered through tall trees. No sound but the wind and the distant call of an owl.

“This doesn’t look like a safe house,” I muttered.

“That’s the point,” he replied, guiding me along a hidden path. “It’s protected by old surveillance shields. Motion scramblers. Only three people know about it.”

“And two of them are dead?”

He didn’t answer.

Minutes later, we reached a cottage nestled between thick pines. It looked like something out of a forgotten fairytale—stone walls, arched windows, ivy crawling up the sides.

Liam knocked once, twice, then paused.

The door creaked open.

A woman stood there—tall, regal, with silver-streaked hair and eyes that narrowed the moment she saw me.

“So, you brought her,” she said to Liam.

“She’s the key.”

“And you’re sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure.”

The woman’s gaze turned to me. “Then come inside, Isla Redmond. It’s time you learned what your bloodline truly cost.”

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