Chapter 10: Blood In The Water

The rain hadn't stopped in three days. The kind that seeps into everything—clothes, skin, memories. Alexander sat by the window again. Same spot. Different city. But the tension in his spine hadn't changed. His body still moved like it expected bullets, still breathed like every exhale might be the last one

Lila was on the couch, one leg tucked under the other, scrolling through news updates on a cracked tablet. Her hair was a mess of dark curls, her face lit by the blue glow, her eyes distant—but not gone.

They had won the first war. Kingsley's empire had cracked, fractured in headlines and protests. Some arrests had been made. Others had fled. Some just vanished, like Donovan. But it wasn't over. Corruption didn't die that easy. It mutated. Shifted. Put on a new face. A cleaner smile. A louder voice. And it came back stronger.

"Listen to this," Lila said, her voice low, almost afraid of waking the ghosts. She turned the screen to him. A new name. Eliora Vale. Young, rich, brilliant. Tech CEO turned philanthropist turned sudden government advisor. Clean record. Big following. Charming. And tied to at least six of the same shell companies Donovan used. Barrett would've seen it. He would've noticed.

Alexander swallowed hard. "We knew they'd rebuild."

Lila nodded. "But this fast?

They sat in silence, the rain tapping like fingernails against the window.

Then came the knock. Three taps. Pause. Two more. Alexander was on his feet, gun in hand. Lila was behind him in seconds. Another knock. Then a voice—small, raspy.

"Don't shoot. I'm… I'm here for Barrett."

Alexander froze. Lila moved toward the door slowly. "Barrett's dead."

"I know," the voice said quietly. "I saw it."

They opened the door. A girl, barely seventeen, drenched and shivering, eyes too old for her face, holding a bloodied envelope.

"My name's Riven," she said. "And I have something you need to see."

She sat at their tiny kitchen table, steam rising off a borrowed hoodie. Alexander and Lila listened, didn't interrupt. Riven had worked for a data-cleaning firm—the kind that makes digital ghosts, wipes records, erases names, rebuilds lives for people who don't want their past anymore.

One client was special. Untouchable. Went by the codename E.V. Only later, when Barrett tried to access a server buried under six proxies, did Riven realize what she'd seen.

"I think Eliora Vale's not just connected," Riven whispered. "I think she's the one holding the leash now."

She pulled the envelope from her coat. Inside, a single flash drive labeled Redroot.

"It's encrypted," she said. "I couldn't break it. But I think Barrett had the key."

Alexander leaned back, staring at the flash drive like it might bite. "You're sure she's behind it?"

Riven nodded. "I'm sure she's worse than Donovan ever was."

They didn't sleep that night—not even close. Alexander set up the old burner system, reconnected the firewalls. Lila traced names on whiteboards, filling their walls again with scribbles, lines, circles, targets. They were back in the war, but this time it felt heavier. Not because they were afraid—but because they weren't anymore.

They cracked part of the drive. Partial files. Video footage. Emails. Transcripts. Illegal tech trials. Test subjects. Payments to military contractors. A message popped up on their screen—a warning, just three words: Stop or burn. Lila looked at it, then erased it without blinking.

"We keep going."

It got worse fast. Every time they posted something, their connection glitched. Phones lit up with unknown pings. A drone hovered too long outside their window. Riven stopped going outside entirely. Alexander changed locations every three days. They used libraries, abandoned clinics, once even a back room of a failing arcade. But Vale's reach was everywhere.

One night, they found their safe house door wide open. Nothing stolen. Nothing moved. Just a single red feather on the table. Lila stared at it for a long time.

"It's not a warning," she said. "It's a signature."

They needed help. So they found the Mire Collective—a rogue group of former journalists, hackers, data leakers. Used to be on the frontlines. Now in the shadows.

They met in a train yard. Midnight. Cold. A woman with silver braids stepped forward. Her name was Echo. She looked at Alexander like she already knew him.

"We've been watching. You lit a match that didn't just catch the Kingsleys—it scorched half the system."

He nodded. "We need help lighting the rest."

Echo gave a tight smile. "Then welcome to the next level."

Together they dug deeper. Vale had more than shell companies. She had influence—senators, governors, even one high-ranking military officer who used to be Donovan's client.

There were trials, hidden on islands, unregistered facilities, human subjects. All scrubbed clean from public record. And then they found Project GRAIL.

Classified. Buried under a medical nonprofit front. Linked to neurological testing—the kind used to make soldiers "better." Faster. Stronger. More obedient.

Alexander stared at the screen. "What the hell is this?"

Riven whispered, "It's brainwashing. On a corporate scale."

They planned the leak. This wasn't just about taking down Vale. This was about everything. The system. The puppets. The strings.

They scheduled the drop for a Monday. Early. When the world would be online. When no one could bury it under weekend noise. They set timers, mirrored servers, spread copies worldwide.

Echo and the Mire watched, prepared backups, contingency drops, even printed physical copies just in case. Alexander took a moment, stood outside, let the cold wind hit his face. Lila came up behind him.

"We ready?" she asked.

He nodded. "Let's finish what we started."

Then it happened.

Thirty minutes before the leak—power died. Not just the building. The block. The city. A coordinated blackout.

Alexander cursed and grabbed the drives. "Emergency plan. We get to Mire's mobile station—drop it from the van."

They moved fast. Riven had a backpack of tools. Lila carried three burners. Alexander had two guns and the main drive.

They got to the van. Started the upload again.

Then, a voice crackled through their comm line. "You were warned. You chose burn. So now—burn."

An explosion rocked the block.

They turned and saw the warehouse behind them—the one they just left—engulfed in flames. Echo was still inside.

Lila screamed. Alexander held her back. Sirens screamed louder. They had to go.

Riven slammed the van door. "We have to move. Or it's all for nothing."

They drove fast, tires screeching, eyes wet, hearts burning. But the upload was still going. One percent. Two. Three.

And then—the screen glitched.

Alexander leaned forward. "No, no, no—don't you—"

The screen lit red: TRANSFER FAILED. LOCATION BREACHED.

Vale had found them.

Lila whispered, "She was always ahead."

But Alexander wasn't done. He pulled out the final drive—the one Barrett gave them before he died. Their last backup. Their last hope.

And just as he plugged it in—the van skidded to a halt.

In front of them, a convoy of black cars. No markings. No plates.

The doors opened. And from the middle car, Eliora

Vale stepped out. Umbrella in hand. Heels clicking. Eyes sharp as glass.

She smiled—cold, vicious—and said, "Let's talk."