Chapter 41: The Calm Before the Ruin

The lights flickered quietly outside the house as Killian stood by the window, a glass of scotch in one hand and silence wrapped around him like a second skin. The fight with Luna still echoed in his head—sharp words, exposed wounds, and truths he wasn't ready to confront. He sighed, the weight of regret pressing heavily upon him.

She had walked out hours ago.

He hadn't stopped her.

He'd told himself she needed space. Told himself it was better this way. The distance would give them both clarity, allow him to push aside whatever emotion had begun creeping through the cracks he'd worked so hard to build. But as he stared out into the dark skyline, an unease began to settle low in his gut. It wasn't guilt. It wasn't doubt. It was something colder. Something that coiled tightly in his chest, a whisper of warning he couldn't shake.

His phone rang, slicing through the silence.

"Elijah."

"We have a problem," Elijah said, voice low, tight with urgency.

Killian's grip on his glass tightened. "Talk."

"There's movement inside the server room—unauthorized access. Firewall is holding, but someone tried to breach Tier 3. Whoever it was knew what they were doing."

Killian didn't hesitate. "I'm on my way."

He was already grabbing his coat before the call ended, the scotch forgotten on the windowsill. The city blurred past him during the drive to Blackwell Industries. Every red light was a battle against his instincts to barrel through. His mind raced, calculating threats, motivations, patterns. This wasn't a simple data breach—this was a message. He just didn't know what it said yet.

When he stormed into the executive floor, Elijah met him at the entrance with a tablet in hand and a grim expression.

"Timeline of the attempted breach," Elijah said, scrolling through the logs. "We've contained it for now. But I don't think this was the real objective."

"Distraction?" Killian asked.

Elijah nodded. "Something about this doesn't sit right. It was messy. Deliberate. Like they wanted us looking here while something else was happening."

Killian's eyes narrowed. "Where's Luna?"

Elijah blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, she wasn't home when I left. I assumed she was still here."

"She wasn't here when the sweep began. Her office has been empty all evening."

A chill crept up Killian's spine. His pulse slowed—not with calm, but with calculation. A dangerous stillness settled over him.

"She left the office after our argument," he said slowly. "I thought she needed air. Space."

Elijah frowned. "But she has never been seen in the building since this afternoon."

Killian pulled out his phone from his pocket and dialed Luna's number. 

"The number you have dialed is not reachable at the moment."

Killian tried dialling again but it's still the same. He can't contact Luna. 

Killian's voice dropped to a near-whisper. "Pull the security footage. From the building entrance, the parking lot, the route she would've taken. I want to see everything."

The tech team jumped into action. Seconds felt like hours as the footage rolled on the massive screen.

There she was—Luna, leaving the Blackwell Industries, calm but clearly distant. She walked toward her car, clutching her coat tighter around herself against the wind. Then… nothing. The feed cut briefly at the side gate. A blind spot. A gap in the security system they'd been meaning to fix but hadn't.

Killian's jaw clenched. "Where is she?"

"Checking traffic cams around that area now," one of the techs said.

Elijah stared at the footage. "It's like she vanished."

The room was silent again until another tech's voice broke through. "Sir. We've received a new message. It's encrypted."

Killian turned slowly. "From who?"

The tech hesitated. "Untraceable origin. But the encryption signature… matches the Obsidian Circle's previous messaging patterns."

Killian's blood ran cold.

The screen lit up. A video file loaded.

Luna appeared, bound to a chair in a dimly lit warehouse. Her lip was bloodied, her blouse torn at the sleeve. But her eyes… her eyes were defiant. Refusing to break.

A distorted voice followed. Mechanical. Soulless.

"Consider this your payment due, Mr. Blackwell."

The screen went black.

For a few heartbeats, no one moved. No one breathed.

Then Killian's voice cut through the room, low and deadly. "Trace the feed. Every route. Every packet. I want the source within the hour."

"Already working on it," Elijah said, fingers flying across his keyboard.

"I want surveillance sweeps of every known Circle facility. Old warehouses. Decommissioned properties. If it's even remotely tied to them, I want it flagged."

Elijah looked up. "They've taken her to provoke you. This is personal."

"No," Killian said, eyes still on the dark screen. "This is war."

He turned to the room. "And I will end it."

Hours passed in a blur of strategy and fury. Killian coordinated every detail, every angle of the rescue—calm on the outside, boiling beneath. He didn't pace. He didn't shout. But the quiet fire in his tone sent shivers down the spines of his entire security division.

He hadn't eaten. He hadn't slept. But he didn't care.

Not while Luna was out there. Not while she was in their hands.

This wasn't about business anymore. It wasn't about legacy. It wasn't even about pride.

It was about her.

And the Circle had just made the biggest mistake of their lives.

As the night deepened, Elijah approached with a grim expression. "We have a partial trace. The signal bounced through six foreign servers, but it originated somewhere within the old port district."

Killian nodded once. "Prepare the convoy. I want a full tactical deployment in thirty minutes."

"And if it's a trap?" Elijah asked quietly.

Killian looked at him, voice like a blade. "Then we burn the trap down."

And as he turned away, his phone buzzed again.

Another message.

One line, untraceable.

"Let's see what the cold king does when his queen is bleeding."

Killian stared at the screen, heart pounding beneath his still expression.

And for the first time, he didn't feel cold.

He felt wrath.