Chapter 18 Death of Maxim

Emerlda saw Luther standing at the airport with Anya, she had properly dressed Leo to meet his parents. Luther properly paid his respects to Emerlda, due to her bio parts she was forced to cover her body with long sleeved clothes. Anya hugging Leo said, "I am glad you are here safe." The tears of a mother were too precious, a guard escorted Anya inside. Leo looking at Emerlda said, "I will visit you in Russia, thank you for always rescuing me Emerlda." Luther smacked his head for being disrespectful, Leo joined his mother inside the plane. Emerlda with a smile on her face said, "Your son is deeply hurting Luther, you can only be a father once in this lifetime. I might have survived my demonic world, but Leo needs you, don't live to regret it." Luther had cleared the warehouse and blew the place up with Burns men inside.Emerlda spotted Luther across the crowded airport terminal, his tall frame easily distinguishable amongst the throng. Beside him stood Anya, her face etched with worry, a stark contrast to the crisp designer outfit that seemed out of place in this chaotic environment.Leo, meticulously dressed for the occasion thanks to Emerlda's efforts, shifted uncomfortably beneath his unfamiliar attire. Anya rushed forward, engulfing him in a tearful embrace. The sight of a mother's love, so raw and unfiltered, brought a bittersweet pang to Emerlda's heart. A guard gently nudged Anya towards security, her muffled sobs echoing in the vast terminal.Leo turned to Emerlda, a hesitant smile playing on his lips. "I'll come visit you in Russia," he promised, his voice laced with a newfound determination. "Thank you, Emerlda. For always having my back."Luther, as if sensing the weight of his son's words, cleared his throat and reached out to pat Leo clumsily on the shoulder. It was a gesture more awkward than comforting, a stark reminder of the fractured relationship between father and son.Emerlda watched as Leo joined his mother on the plane, a flicker of sadness crossing her features. As the aircraft taxied down the runway, she turned to Luther, a sad smile gracing her lips."Your son carries a lot of hurt, Luther," she said softly. "You can only be a father once in this lifetime. Don't live to regret it."Luther's gaze held a mix of gratitude and apprehension. The news of Emerlda's arrival had reached him just as he was about to clear out Burns' men from the warehouse. He'd detonated the building, eliminating the threat but leaving the stench of destruction hanging heavy in the air. Now, standing before Emerlda, he couldn't shake the feeling that the danger was far from over.With a final, lingering look at the departing plane, Emerlda turned and disappeared into the bustling airport crowd. Her journey back to Russia was shrouded in uncertainty. What awaited her there? Was it a safe haven or just another battleground in her seemingly endless

 Emerlda watched from afar as Luther, stoic in a well-tailored suit, stood beside a tearful Anya. Leo, shorn of his usual streetwise swagger and looking uncharacteristically nervous in a button-down shirt, fidgeted between them.Anya's embrace was fierce, her whispered words lost in the airport bustle. A security guard, his face etched with concern, gently ushered Anya inside.Leo turned to Emerlda, a hesitant smile touching his lips. "I'll come see you in Russia," he promised. "Thanks, Emerlda. For always having my back."Luther cleared his throat, a faint blush creeping up his neck. He muttered a half-hearted thanks to Emerlda that did little to mask his discomfort. The bio-parts beneath her long-sleeved clothing pulsed faintly, a hidden reminder of a world he couldn't begin to understand.Emerlda held Luther's gaze, her smile unwavering. "Your son is hurting, Luther," she said, her voice soft yet firm. "You only get one shot at being a father. Don't let it be a memory you live to regret."A flicker of something – defiance? Shame? – crossed Luther's face before he schooled his features back into a mask of indifference. He turned and followed Leo onto the plane, leaving Emerlda standing alone amidst the throng of travelers.As the plane roared down the runway, Emerlda watched it disappear into the clouds. A shiver ran down her spine, a chill that had nothing to do with the crisp autumn air. Luther had proven he was willing to go to extremes to protect his family. But would that be enough to bridge the chasm between them? And more importantly, was she strong enough to face the consequences of Luther's actions, the repercussions that might spill over from his "demonic world" and threaten the fragile peace she'd carved out for herself?

The acrid tang of singed wood hung heavy in the air, a grim shroud for the devastation that unfolded before me. The warehouse, once a bustling hub of commerce, now stood as a skeletal monument to yesterday's inferno. A swarm of hazmat-suited figures flitted about, their movements purposeful yet oddly sterile in the face of such raw tragedy."Twenty confirmed dead," a gruff voice offered beside me. Detective Inspector Miller, his face etched with weariness, gestured towards a yellow-taped perimeter where forensic teams meticulously picked through the debris. "And counting," he added grimly.A flicker of disquiet snagged at me. The whispers of a C.I.A. connection swirled through the media, a tenuous link that reeked of political opportunism. Miller, ever the pragmatist, scoffed. "Too early to speculate," he muttered, his gaze hardening. "We chase facts, not headlines."As if summoned by the thought, Burns and Smith materialized from the throng. An unsettling tension hung between them. A discrepancy gnawed at me: the meticulously salvaged goods scattered around the wreckage defied the narrative of a sudden, accidental explosion. Smith, his face a mask of studied neutrality, nudged a document towards Burns. "Insurance on the scene, sir. Seems this building is registered under your name."A flicker of surprise, swiftly suppressed, crossed Burns' face. A silent conversation played out between them, a tapestry of unspoken questions and veiled accusations. Daniel, another officer, approached Burns, a file clutched in his hand. "Mind if I take a look at the extent of the damage, sir, before the claim is filed?"Burns cleared his throat, the sound rasping in the tense silence. "Of course, Detective," he said, a touch too quickly. "Would you like me to accompany you?"A slow, predatory smile spread across Daniel's face. He produced a sleek phone, its screen displaying an incoming call. "Seems to be for you, Inspector," he drawled, his voice dripping with veiled meaning.This rewrite uses stronger verbs, figurative language, and emphasizes the emotional weight of the scene. It also introduces a layer of suspicion surrounding Burns and the events leading up to the explosion. The ending leaves the reader hanging, eager to know who is on the phone.Emerald swirled the ruby liquid in her glass, the city lights twinkling mockingly outside her opulent hotel window. A cruel smile played on her lips as the voice on the other end crackled through. "I received your clear message, Burns," she purred, her voice dripping with honeyed venom. "Did you receive mine, Burns?"Steve, his face a mask of thunder, stalked away from the throng of investigators, the accusation hanging heavy in the air. "Yes I did," he muttered into the phone, his voice barely a rasp."Such a shame," Emerald continued, her amusement evident, "things weren't supposed to go this way for your little promotion, were they? Those haunted eyes of yours make you look a decade older, wouldn't you agree, Burns?"Burns forced a smile, the concerned murmurs of his colleagues scraping at his already frayed nerves. He scanned the crowd, a desperate hope flickering in his eyes. Emerald's laughter, sharp as broken glass, filled his ear. "Relax, Burns," she cooed, a predator toying with its prey. "I have no intention of ending things so quickly. Your suffering will be a slow burn, a symphony of despair. I'll unearth every secret, hunt down every one of you, and leave you all begging for oblivion."A sudden, acrid smell filled the air. The battery on Emerald's phone began to glow ominously, followed by a hiss of escaping smoke. Her eyes widened in momentary panic before she slammed the phone down, the receiver exploding in a miniature firework display.Across the city, Burns tossed the smoldering phone onto the ground, his face a mask of conflicting emotions. Relief warred with a simmering rage. "Phone overheated," he announced tersely, his voice surprisingly steady for someone who'd just received a chilling threat. "Gather around, everyone. We have a meeting."The harsh buzz of Burns' phone shattered the tense silence in the room. A single glance at the caller ID sent a jolt of apprehension through him – it was the General. He excused himself, his footsteps echoing heavily as he retreated to a secluded corner to answer. The muffled conversation was punctuated by short bursts of anger from the General's end, Burns' face growing grimmer with each passing second.By the time he rejoined the room, a grim veil had settled over his features. The camaraderie that had moments ago filled the air had evaporated, replaced by a palpable sense of dread. The General, a man whose steely gaze could silence a riot, switched on the television. The news report that played was enough to make even the most hardened criminals blanch. The Westside prison, once a symbol of impenetrable security, now resembled a horrific tableau of devastation.Burns swallowed hard, the metallic tang of fear thick on his tongue. "What in God's name is…" he rasped, his voice barely a whisper.The General, his jaw clenched tight, slammed his fist on the table. "Apparently," he growled, his voice laced with barely-contained fury, "Westside was attacked yesterday. Whoever did this…they weren't human."A collective gasp rippled through the room. Burns' eyes darted around, landing on his colleagues – each face mirrored the same chilling realization. He already knew. He knew who had orchestrated this nightmare. A silent exchange passed between him and a few others, a flicker of shared understanding in their eyes."I need all of you," the General declared, his voice cutting through the shocked silence. "Gather every available task force. We hunt this…devil…down. We only have one missing prisoner – Leo Luther." A name that hung heavy in the air, carrying the weight of a thousand secrets."We already have a lead," the General continued, his gaze pinning Burns squarely. "And I need Luther back. At all costs."The weight of the General's words settled on Burns like a physical blow. It was Emerlda. He knew it. He fought to maintain his composure as he spoke. "This needs to be kept from the public eye," he said, his voice low and urgent. "Until we have the perpetrator."The General nodded curtly, lighting his trademark cigar. "And how do we explain this to the families, Burns?" He exhaled a plume of smoke, his eyes narrowing. "We can't simply keep their loved ones' deaths a secret."Bob, a burly man with a perpetually furrowed brow, slammed his fist on the table, his frustration simmering over. "Lockdown!" he barked. "The entire prison is on lockdown until further notice. You've got seventy-two hours to find these bastards, Burns. Tick-tock."The scene ends with a ticking clock, both literal and metaphorical, adding pressure and urgency to Burns' mission. The exchange between Burns and his colleagues hints at a deeper conspiracy, leaving the reader eager to learn more about their connection to Emerlda and Leo Luther.Sunlight, brazen and uninvited, streamed through the opulent hotel room, casting harsh light on Emerald's calculating features. A notification on her phone chimed – a hefty transfer from Luther's account. A flicker of satisfaction crossed her face. Finally, the gears were turning. Just then, Daniel, his usually stoic face etched with worry, entered the room."Good news, Boss Lady," he began, his voice tentative. "The accountant is secure. Your funds will be laundered discreetly."A rare smile graced Emerald's lips. This was a much-needed win. But the moment was fleeting. Daniel's phone buzzed, and a single glance at the caller ID sent a jolt through him. Dread pooled in his stomach, reflected in his widening eyes.Emerald, a predator attuned to the subtlest shifts in her prey, narrowed her eyes. "I can smell it when you're churning something foul, Daniel," she said, her voice a silken threat. "Spit it out."Daniel swallowed hard. "Boss Lady," he choked out, his voice thick with emotion, "I offer my most heartfelt condolences."The phone clattered to the floor, forgotten. Emerald's smile vanished, replaced by a mask of chilling emptiness. "Condolences?" she echoed, her voice devoid of emotion. "Don't play word games with me."A tremor ran through her hand, making the crystal wine glass wobble precariously. With a sickening crack, it shattered against the marble floor. The sound echoed through the room, a stark counterpoint to the hollowness in her eyes."He was getting better, Daniel," she rasped, each word a shard of broken glass. "Don't you dare…" Her voice trailed off, choked by a sob she desperately tried to contain. "Don't lie to me."Daniel, his head bowed in a show of respect but filled with dread, spoke softly. "The doctors are still investigating the cause of death, Boss Lady. We should head to Russia for the funeral procession…""There will be no funeral," Emerald cut him off, her voice a steely whisper laced with a venom that sent shivers down Daniel's spine. "Not until I have bathed in the blood of those responsible for my son's death."The room plunged into a chilling silence, broken only by the ragged gasps of her barely contained fury. The air crackled with a dark energy, a promise of vengeance that sent a shiver down Daniel's spine. The good news, the laundered money, all faded into insignificance. All that remained was a mother, consumed by grief and fueled by a thirst for revenge.Daniel lingered at the door, the sound of Emerlda's choked sobs a hammer blow to his chest. Since the news of Maxim's death, she hadn't touched a morsel of food, her vibrant spirit replaced by a hollow shell. He pushed the door open a crack, revealing a sight that shattered his usual composure.Emerlda, the woman who commanded respect and fear in equal measure, was huddled in a corner, clutching a worn picture of Maxim. Her once-proud posture was broken, replaced by a heartbreaking vulnerability. Tears, relentless and raw, streamed down her face, etching crimson streaks through the makeup that usually masked her emotions.Daniel knew, with a chilling certainty, that the microbats coursing through her veins – the very technology that enhanced her strength and senses – were now in turmoil, mirroring her emotional meltdown. The woman who had always seemed impervious to pain was drowning in its depths."He was the last one, Daniel," she rasped, her voice thick with despair. "My son, Maxim… he was the only reason I clung to this life. So young, so full of dreams…" Her voice trailed off, replaced by a strangled sob. "Maxim… my son is gone…"Daniel's heart ached for the woman before him. He crossed the room, his movements deliberate yet gentle, and knelt beside her. Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around her, offering the only comfort he could. The gesture, usually reserved for a child seeking solace, felt oddly fitting. In that moment, Emerlda wasn't the ruthless leader, the master manipulator. She was a mother, stripped bare by grief.A memory flickered in Daniel's mind – a younger Emerlda, her face contorted in a similar mask of despair, cradled by a woman with eyes that mirrored her own icy blue. Her perfect family, torn apart years ago, leaving a void that Maxim had only partially filled.A shiver ran down his spine. The world might perceive Emerlda as cold, even inhuman. But the raw pain etched on her face was undeniable. And with the last tether to her humanity severed, she was a ticking time bomb. A woman with nothing left to lose, fueled by a grief that could curdle into a monstrous rage.Daniel held her tighter, a silent promise hanging heavy in the air. He would deal with the fallout, with the potential threat she now posed. But for now, he would be the anchor in this storm of grief, the only comfort in a world suddenly devoid of meaning for Emerlda.Daniel jolted awake, a cold sweat clinging to him. Disoriented, he scanned the empty hotel room. Panic clawed at his throat – Emerlda was gone. He scrambled towards his laptop, the tracking software prepped and ready. Just as his fingers neared the keyboard, the door creaked open.Emerlda entered, a serene smile playing on her lips. In her hands, a tray held two steaming cups of coffee and a bag of donuts, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within him."Good morning, Boss," he stammered, forcing a smile. "You could have woken me up to share breakfast duties."A flicker of something unreadable crossed her eyes before she placed the tray on the table. "Needed to stretch my legs," she replied simply. "Come, join me for a coffee."They sat in a tense silence, punctuated only by the clinking of spoons against mugs. As Emerlda finished her coffee, her expression hardened. "Maxim wasn't my blood," she began, her voice low and dangerous. "But he was my son, and my misplaced kindness… it killed him."Daniel braced himself, the weight of her words heavy in the air. "If I had dealt with the Bloods definitively," she continued, her voice laced with a chilling finality, "all those people at the prison… they would still be alive."A shiver ran down Daniel's spine. The news reports had painted a grim picture – the prison attack, a bloodbath orchestrated by unknown assailants. But Emerlda's words hinted at a darker truth, a personal connection to the tragedy."Now," she continued, her gaze meeting his, sharp as a shard of ice, "I understand the pain my mother felt."Daniel set his cup down with a clatter, a mixture of concern and fear welling up inside him. "Boss," he ventured cautiously, "you can still rebuild a family. You're young…"A humorless scoff escaped her lips. Her eyes, devoid of warmth, drilled into him. "Rebuild?" she echoed, the word laced with disdain. "I can only rebuild after I've burned away this… this misery that consumes me."A single tear traced a path down her cheek, a stark contrast to the cold fury burning in her eyes. "And the Bloods," she continued, her voice a steely whisper, "they are the source of it all. I will build my new family, my new empire… on a foundation of their corpses."The world dissolved into darkness as a rough bag was yanked over Steve's head. A muffled curse escaped his lips as he was shoved into the back of a car. The stench of stale sweat and something metallic filled his nostrils. The car lurched forward, the engine growling like a hungry beast. Time stretched into an agonizing eternity, punctuated only by the rhythmic bumps of the road and the pounding of his own heart.Finally, the car screeched to a halt. Steve braced himself as strong arms yanked him out, his legs wobbly like jelly. The bag was ripped off his head, revealing a desolate scene – an abandoned factory, its skeletal frame silhouetted against a blood-red sky.Two figures stood before him, their faces obscured by identical black masks equipped with voice modifiers. Their voices, distorted and emotionless, echoed through the cavernous space."This is a terrible mistake," Steve stammered, his voice laced with a tremor he couldn't control. "If you think you can get away with this…""Shut up, Steve," one of the figures snarled. The voice sent a jolt of recognition through him, but he couldn't quite place it.Suddenly, the figures moved aside, revealing a woman kneeling on the dusty floor. Emerlda. Her eyes, usually blazing with ambition, were cold and hard, devoid of any warmth. But it was Daniel, hunched over a tablet, who spoke first."You killed Sarah Thompson, Steve," Daniel's voice crackled through the mask, devoid of its usual sly charm. "Ten years ago. You paid off her family, bought their silence with a measly ten thousand credits. But you can't buy back a life, can you?"Steve's heart hammered against his ribs. Ten years. He'd buried that memory deep, convinced it would never resurface. But the past, it seemed, had a long and unforgiving memory."We have witnesses, Steve," Emerlda spoke, her voice a chilling whisper. "And more importantly, evidence. Enough to crumble your carefully constructed world."She gestured towards a flash drive Daniel held up. "Do this for us," Daniel said, his voice flat. "Plant this on Burns' laptop. We need intel on the Bloods, and you seem to know where to look."Steve's mind raced. Protect Burns? The man who'd chewed him out for every minor misstep? Yet, the alternative – facing Emerlda's wrath and the truth about Sarah's death becoming public knowledge – was far worse."And if I refuse?" he croaked, his voice hoarse.Emerlda tilted her head, a cruel smile playing on her lips, the shadows of the mask deepening the effect. "Then," she said, her voice dripping with venom, "let's just say your little secret won't be the only one exposed tonight."Trapped between a rock and a hard place, with his past and his present both threatening to implode, Steve knew he had no choice. He was a pawn in a deadly game, and his only hope for survival lay in playing it perfectlySweat beaded on Steve's forehead as he crept into Burns' office. The tension in the room was thick enough to choke on. Burns hunched over his laptop, a frustrated scowl etched on his face. The glow of the screen illuminated scattered papers covered in scrawled notes – all connected to the Westview prison massacre."Sir?" Steve squeaked, his voice barely a whisper.Burns' head snapped up, his eyes flashing with suspicion. "What is it, Steve? Can't you see I'm busy?""S-sorry to interrupt, sir," Steve stammered, "but I… I kept knocking and there was no answer."A flicker of unease crossed Burns' face. He hastily shut his laptop, slamming it shut with a metallic clang. The movement seemed almost desperate, as if hiding something."What do you want?" he snapped. "Any leads on the warehouse case?"Steve's heart hammered against his ribs. He could feel the tiny earpiece lodged in his ear, the faint static a constant reminder of Daniel's watchful gaze. His stomach churned – betray Burns or face Emerlda's wrath?"Boss," he began, his voice barely a croak, "we have… zero leads." He forced a cough, hoping to buy himself some time.Suddenly, Steve's body went rigid. A guttural moan escaped his lips as he crumpled to the floor, his entire body wracked with violent tremors. Burns' eyes widened in alarm."Steve!" he roared, rushing to his side.Through the earpiece, a muffled burst of laughter erupted. "Plug it in, Steve," Daniel's voice hissed. "Now!"Steve gritted his teeth, willing his body to cooperate. His hand, seemingly on autopilot, reached into his pocket and fumbled with a small flash drive. As Burns checked for a pulse, Steve managed to slip the drive into a USB port on the laptop.With a triumphant grin on his face, Daniel watched on a hidden screen as the code within the drive bypassed Burns' security protocols. Within seconds, crucial files began uploading to his own system. He had everything he needed – the truth about Burns' involvement with the Bloods, the incriminating evidence from the prison massacre.The door burst open as paramedics, alerted by Burns' frantic call, rushed into the office. Steve, still playing the part, let out a pathetic whimper as they lifted him onto a stretcher."This way!" one of the paramedics barked, carrying Steve out of the room.Burns, momentarily stunned, watched them go. His gaze flickered back to the laptop screen, oblivious to the data streaming out. A cruel smile stretched across Daniel's face."Now, Burns," he chuckled darkly, leaning back in his chair, "let's have some fun exposing your little secrets to the world."Meanwhile, on the television screen, a news report played, showing the gruesome aftermath of the Westview prison riot. The reporter's voice, laced with shock, echoed through the room."These images are truly disturbing," he declared. "Earlier this evening, we received a scoop from a courageous whistleblower exposing the tragedy that took place at Westview Prison. Is this the reason Westview Prison had been shut away from the public? What are the events leading to this tragedy? Stay tuned to hear more from our journalist heading to the scene."Daniel watched with a morbid satisfaction as the seeds of chaos he'd sown began to sprout. The news report was just the beginning. Burns' downfall, and the complete dismantling of his operation, was well underway.The incessant buzzing of the phone on his desk was enough to drive the General to distraction. Each call was from a superior official, their voices laced with a barely concealed fury. Twenty-four hours. That was all he had to produce a detailed report on the Westview prison massacre – a report that would need scapegoats and a scapegoat-in-chief. But the truth, the horrifying truth about the prison's attackers, remained elusive.Luther, the only link they had, had vanished like smoke. Tracking him down felt like searching for a needle in a desert of secrets. With a sigh that rattled his chest, the General downed a handful of medication, the familiar bitter taste a grim reminder of his ailing health. He needed a break, a chance to clear his head before the coming storm.Sliding into the driver's seat of his car, he set off towards home, yearning for the quiet solace his wife always provided. As he entered the dimly lit dining room, a scene ripped straight from a nightmare unfolded before him.A masked figure, clad in black, stood in the center of the room, a glint of moonlight catching on the barrel of a gun pointed directly at his wife. Her face was pale, a mixture of terror and defiance etched on her features."How dare you enter my house!" The General roared, his voice thick with a rage that momentarily eclipsed the fear.The masked figure turned towards him, a chilling smile twisting their shrouded features. "This," the figure spoke, their voice distorted by a voice modifier, "is the only place I can have a decent conversation with you, General."The General's world tilted on its axis. His wife, his pillar of strength, held hostage in his own home. His gaze darted between the masked figure and his wife, his mind racing for a solution.But before he could even formulate a response, another masked figure emerged from the shadows, their presence silently conveying a deadly threat. This figure remained silent, their stance radiating a predator's stillness.The General's mind was a whirlwind of questions. Who were these people? How had they gotten into his heavily guarded home? And most importantly, what did they want?Trapped in the crosshairs of a deadly game, the General knew one thing for certain – the fight for his life, and his family's, had just begun.Placing his service pistol on the table with a heavy thud, the General forced a growl into his voice. "How in God's name did you bypass security? My men are the best!"But his bluster lacked conviction. The vacant eyes of the guards sprawled outside, courtesy of Daniel's potent neurotoxin, were a stark reminder of his vulnerability."Let's just say," a voice modulator crackled from the masked figure standing by the stairs, "your security system had… susceptibilities." It was Daniel, his voice devoid of any warmth. On cue, he ushered the General's wife upstairs, the masked glint in his eyes a chilling contrast to his usual easy demeanor.The General's gaze fell on the remaining figure, the one who had spoken first. The mask came off, revealing a face he'd seen countless times in briefings – Emerlda, the ruthless leader of the Ascendants. But in her icy blue eyes, devoid of their usual calculating glint, burned a cold fury that sent a shiver down his spine."Did you enjoy the, shall we say, 'entertainment' I provided at Westview?" Emerlda's voice was a silken whisper, laced with venom. "A small token of my displeasure with your little… operation."The General swallowed a lump that felt like a lead weight in his throat. His body, usually a fortress of military discipline, trembled with a primal fear. He sputtered, his voice hoarse, "Why the hell would you… those were…"He trailed off, the accusation dying on his lips as Emerlda's finger shot up, a gesture that demanded silence. The air crackled with a dangerous energy, the unspoken threat hanging heavy in the room."We can discuss your transgressions later, General," Emerlda continued, her voice a low growl. "For now, consider this a warning. Westview was a taste, a mere appetizer. The real course is yet to come."The weight of her words settled on the General like a physical blow. He knew, with a chilling certainty, that this wasn't just about the prison. This was personal. Emerlda had an agenda, and he was just a pawn caught in the crossfire.A steely glint flickered back into his eyes, momentarily replacing the fear. He wouldn't go down without a fight. "You think you can threaten me in my own home?" he rasped, his voice regaining a semblance of its former authority.A cruel smile played on Emerlda's lips. "General," she purred, her voice dripping with disdain, "you've underestimated the lengths a mother will go to for revenge. Consider this a house call."With that, she turned and swept towards the stairs, her black cloak billowing behind her like a phantom's shroud. Daniel followed, his silence more menacing than any words. The General watched them go, his mind a whirlwind of questions and a simmering pot of rage. He was a man facing not just a powerful enemy, but a woman fueled by a grief so profound it had morphed into a monstrous desire for vengeance. And in that moment, the General knew this was a war he couldn't afford to lose."Discipline, you call it?" Emerlda spat, her voice dripping with contempt. "I call it a breeding ground for depravity! How the hell did prisoners gain access to Leo's cell, Edgar? Was it a well-oiled system of bribes lining your pockets or sheer incompetence?"Edgar, a wiry man with sweat beading on his forehead, found his voice. "Look, lady…"He was cut off mid-sentence by a sickening crack. Emerlda's high-heeled boot connected with his jaw with a force that sent him sprawling across the floor. A crimson stain bloomed on his chin."You don't address me like that, Edgar," Emerlda snarled, her voice devoid of any warmth. "Unlike my father, I don't indulge in weakness. Remember, you're already breathing borrowed air."Edgar scrambled back, wincing in pain but forcing his gaze to meet hers. A flicker of defiance sparked in his cloudy eyes, quickly extinguished by the storm brewing in Emerlda's."Past events are water under the bridge," Emerlda continued, her tone shifting to a chilling calmness. "I're not here for a history lesson. I have a job for you."Edgar, surprised by the abrupt change of subject, cautiously looked up. "A job? What kind of job?"A predatory smile played on Emerlda's lips. "Let's just say your insider knowledge of the prison's underbelly might be valuable. Help me find the one responsible for orchestrating the attack on my son. The one who turned a blind eye to the guards' negligence… the one who might hold the key to dismantling this whole rotten system from within."A flicker of a different emotion crossed Edgar's face – something akin to intrigue. Here, in the hands of this vengeful woman, lay an opportunity for revenge against a corrupt system that had likely chewed him up and spat him out too. His loyalty might be a gamble, but the prospect of taking down his superiors held a morbid allure.He straightened his posture, a glint of cunning replacing the fear in his eyes. "Tell me more," he rasped, his voice rough.Emerlda tilted her head, studying him. Could she trust this broken man, this cog in the very machine she despised? A gamble, to be sure. But in a game of revenge, even the most unlikely pawns could prove valuable.