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Chapter 44 : Scars in the Dark
The rain began sometime after midnight. It wasn’t the kind of storm that came in violence, but a steady whisper of water against the windows of the Paris safehouse, a muted percussion that filled the silence Cain had left behind.Ethan woke to it, breath shallow, skin damp with sweat despite the chill. His body ached as though every nerve had been stripped raw. The Cipher’s sigil still burned faintly across his wrist, an echo of Cain’s cruel lesson. He lifted his hand, studying the faint light that pulsed beneath the skin, as if it wanted to crawl deeper and settle inside his bones.A shadow shifted near the bed. Wren. She sat at the edge of the mattress, back to him, the pale line of her shoulders outlined by the dim lamplight. Her hair clung damp against her neck, and her jacket, discarded on a nearby chair, dripped slowly onto the floor.She hadn’t slept. He could see it in the way her posture was carved sharp as stone, in the restless tension coiled inside her frame.“Still guardi
Chapter 43 : The Carthage File
The safehouse breathed in silence after Cain’s boots faded down the stairwell. A silence too sharp to be peace—one stitched from exhaustion, fear, and things left unsaid.Ethan sat hunched on the edge of the narrow mattress, his wrists raw from restraints. Wren crouched beside him with soldierly efficiency, tearing strips from a linen shirt and binding them tightly around the angry welts. Her touch was practical, almost brusque, but Camille noticed the way her hands lingered just long enough to steady him when his body swayed.Ethan didn’t flinch. His eyes—those storm-dark eyes that had once sparked with cleverness—were fixed on the faint sigil burned into his skin. The Cipher’s mark pulsed faintly like a heartbeat, like a wound that would never scab over. His jaw was clenched, his chest rising and falling in shallow rhythms, but the real battle was behind his eyes.Camille stood at a distance, her back pressed against the cold plaster wall. Watching. Waiting. Guilt gnawed at her ribs
Chapter 42 : The Weight of Chains
The dawn broke pale over Paris, but the safehouse felt darker than midnight. The storm had passed, yet the air outside carried the stench of charred stone and soaked ash. The city was quiet, but not peaceful—it was the silence of a battlefield after smoke has cleared, when corpses lie hidden under rubble.Inside, Ethan sat on the couch, hunched forward, staring at his hand. The sigil still throbbed, glowing faintly in the dim light. Every pulse felt like Cain had pressed a hot iron beneath his skin, each beat a reminder that the Cipher wasn’t just etched into him—it owned him.He hadn’t slept. He couldn’t. Every time his eyes drifted shut, he saw flashes of Cain’s eyes, Helena’s smile, and strange fractured memories that weren’t his—cities burning, crypts filled with whispering shadows, and a voice that echoed like thunder: Rule better than I did.Across the room, Wren leaned against the window frame, watching the street below with the patience of a predator. Her pistol rested within
Chapter 41 : Cain’s Chains
Paris was silent, but it wasn’t peace.The fires had gone out days ago, yet the city still carried the stink of ash and gasoline. Broken glass glittered in the gutters like jewels of a fallen empire. The streets below the safehouse lay empty, save for the occasional siren or the distant thunder of boots from soldiers too tired to keep order but too afraid to abandon it completely.Ethan stood on the balcony, drinking it in. He couldn’t stop staring at the ruin, not because of what Paris had lost but because of what he had gained. His left hand still burned, branded with the sigil that now pulsed like it had a heartbeat of its own. The Crown Cipher. The mark of kings—and monsters.He flexed his fingers. Each movement drew heat and fire through his veins, the memory of Helena’s ritual carved into his nerves. Sleep had become impossible. Every time he shut his eyes, something else flooded his head—not his thoughts, not his past, but memories borrowed from the dead. Cain’s battles. Helena
Chapter 40 : The Branding of the King
Paris was a labyrinth of rain-slicked streets, gaslit alleys, and shuttered cafés when Ethan’s team arrived. The city had been quiet, deceptively so, a velvet blanket over a nest of vipers. Helena had chosen this city as her stronghold for a reason: centuries of hidden influence, financial networks, and loyal operatives ready to strike at a moment’s notice.From their safehouse on the Left Bank, Ethan surveyed the city through a panoramic window. The sigil on his hand pulsed faintly—a warning, a reminder, a tether to the Vault. The Crown Cipher hummed with latent energy, itching to assert control.Wren broke the silence. “We have three access points to her network hub. Each is guarded by enhanced Blacklight operatives. Her traps will be… precise. Ruthless.”Ethan nodded, jaw tight. “Then we hit all three at once. No hesitation. We either take her tonight or lose everything.”Camille’s fingers danced over her tablet, decrypting layers of Helena’s digital defenses. “The data from Zurich
Chapter 39 : Shadows Across Europe
The sun had barely risen over Vienna when Ethan slipped out of the safehouse. The city was quiet, deceptively serene, its cobblestone streets slick from an early morning drizzle. He moved with purpose, the ledger clutched in one hand, the sigil on his other hand pulsing faintly under his skin like a heartbeat.Wren followed a few paces behind, her eyes scanning every alleyway and rooftop. “We can’t underestimate her,” she said, voice low. “She’s not just Helena Cross. She’s the ghost of the Vault. Every step she takes, she leaves a trap. You’ve seen what she can do with the shard inside you.”Ethan didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. He could feel the Crown Cipher reacting, a tether to every piece of Vault data they had recovered. Helena had spread her influence across Europe like a network of venomous spiders—careful, precise, deadly. But she had also left trails, subtle patterns that only someone trained in the Nine’s cryptography could decipher.Camille was already in Paris, tracing
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