The Trash Picker and the Secret King

The Traitor's Gate

The heavy iron door crashes inward, flying across the room and slamming into the concrete wall with a loud bang. A cloud of thick dust fills the air. Through the gray haze, elite guards flood into the space. Their black armor gleams under the flashing red alarm lights, and their blue swords hum with lethal energy.

How did they find this base so fast?

We only arrived here a few minutes ago. The underground hideout was supposed to be a secret, hidden deep beneath the city where the council could never reach us. Someone gave away our location. Someone sold us out.

My mind flashes back to Jax and his cold, calculating eyes. Then I look at Lyra, standing right beside me in her green jacket. Her face is pale, but she is not looking at the guards. Her eyes are locked on the metal box resting on the wooden crate.

Get down! Lyra shouts, pushing me hard to the side.

A bright blue energy beam cuts through the air right where I was standing a second before, melting a deep hole into the concrete wall. I hit the floor hard, gripping the heavy metal staff Jax gave me. The metal box is still sitting on the crate across the room. If the guards capture it, the rebellion ends right here.

I scramble to my feet, ignoring the sharp pain in my knees. The purple light flares up in my palms, bursting through my skin like liquid fire. I do not think about my fear anymore. I only think about survival.

I swing the heavy metal staff with all my strength, catching the first guard square in the chest. The impact sends him flying backward into the hallway. Two more guards charge at me, their blue swords raised high to strike.

I thrust my glowing hands forward. A wave of purple energy blasts from my palms, hitting the guards with massive force. They crash into the floor, their weapons sliding away across the concrete.

Kian! Grab the box! Lyra calls out over the blaring siren.

I look across the room. Lyra is already running toward the crate. She grabs the heavy metal box and tucks it securely under her arm. But instead of running toward the back exit to help me fight off the remaining guards, she turns and sprints down a narrow side tunnel I have never seen before.

I freeze for a split second. Lyra! Where are you going?

She stops at the corner of the dark tunnel and turns back to look at me. The flashing red lights cast a sharp shadow across her face. The warm, friendly smile she always wears is completely gone. In its place is a cold, calculated look of absolute control.

I am going to the glass towers, Kian, Lyra says clearly, her voice cutting through the noise of the alarms. "Thank you for bringing the box and the bloodline right to my doorstep.

The blood drains from my face. The pieces suddenly click together in my mind with terrifying speed.

The guards did not track us here by accident. The alarm did not go off because of a lucky raid. Lyra led us straight into this trap. She is not just a rebel tech expert. She engineered this entire escape plan from the very beginning to use us as her personal pawns.

You set this up, I say, my voice shaking with sudden fury. You set up the whole thing!

"Of course I did," Lyra replies, her tone completely calm. The council would never let a low-level rebel into the central vault. But they will open every door for the lost royal heir escorted by their own elite guard units. You are the key, Kian. I am just the one turning the lock.

Before I can take a step toward her, three more elite guards rush into the room from the main hallway, blocking my path entirely. Their blue swords form a wall of deadly light between us.

Lyra turns around and disappears into the dark side tunnel, taking the heavy metal box and all our secrets with her.

Stop her! I shout, pointing my glowing hands at the guards.

The guards do not hesitate. They lunge forward together, driving me back against the concrete wall. I raise my staff to block the first blade, but the sheer force of their attack knocks the weapon right out of my hands. It clatters loudly across the floor, out of my reach.

I am completely cornered. My hands burn with purple light, but I am surrounded on all sides by men in black armor with glowing blue swords pointed straight at my heart.

The lead guard steps forward, pressing the tip of his weapon dangerously close to my throat.

Target secured, the guard says into a communicator on his wrist. The girl has the box. Bring the boy to the high tower. The council wants to watch him fall."