Page 47 of Fractured Loyalties (Tainted Souls #2)

The tunnel slopes downward, the air warming as we draw closer to the generator room.

The metal walls carry the hum of machinery, a low vibration that climbs into my teeth.

My injured shoulder throbs with each step, but I keep pace at the front.

Mara is directly behind me, one hand hooked into my belt as though letting go would mean losing herself in the dark.

Jori follows, unsteady, Kinley shadowing him.

Lydia brings up the rear with our captive, his wrists bound tight.

Every intersection we pass looks the same—corridors veering off into darkness, doors sealed with locking mechanisms we don’t have time to test. Volker’s architecture is a study in control; even down here, he has narrowed our choices until the only path is his.

"We’re close," Lydia mutters, glancing at the map flickering on her handheld. "Two turns and we hit the access platform."

"And then?" Kinley asks.

"Then we see what’s waiting," I answer. I don’t soften it. There’s no point.

Mara’s fingers tighten against my side. "If this is another trap—"

"It is," I cut in. "But we’re not here for clean exits. We’re here for Jori." My gaze catches his in the dim. "And whatever Volker thought keeping you alive would get him."

Jori looks away, his mouth flattening. He hasn’t said much since we pulled him from that cell. I can read silence well enough to know it’s not gratitude holding his tongue.

The corridor narrows, walls pressing close enough that my shoulder brushes metal.

I keep my focus forward, scanning for movement, for the faintest shift in shadow that would betray a guard.

Nothing moves ahead—yet the air carries a current of anticipation, as if the walls themselves are tensed, waiting for the moment to spring.

We reach the final turn, the faint glow of the generator room spilling into the junction. The sound is heavier here, a mechanical pulse syncing with my heartbeat. I signal the others to halt, raising a hand.

"Elias?" Mara whispers.

I tilt my head toward the light. "He knows we’re here. So we go in like it’s ours."

We move in together, our boots striking the grated floor, the sound carrying out across the vast chamber.

This generator room dwarfs the first—multiple tiers of industrial platforms hang over a chasm where massive turbines churn.

Thick black cables snake across the ground, radiating heat, and the air smells of scorched wiring and heavy oil.

Three figures wait at the main platform. Two are armed, posture rigid and alert. The third stands between them, tall and composed, hands clasped behind his back. Even before I see his face, I know him.

Volker.

His gaze sweeps over us, deliberate in its pace.

It pauses on Jori, then Mara, before settling on Kinley.

There’s a flicker there—recognition. “We meet again, I told you we would. You were mine once,” Volker says, voice carrying without strain.

“I taught you how to hold a weapon, how to read a man’s fear. And now you point that weapon at me.”

Kinley’s stance doesn’t falter. “Move away from the controls.”

Volker’s eyes shift to me, the faintest smile ghosting his mouth. “And you—Eidolon. You’ve walked a long road to stand here, yet you’ve learned nothing.”

“Then teach me,” I say, advancing a step, keeping Mara in my peripheral vision. “Tell me why you kept Jori alive, all the while hiding that fact from everyone, even his own brother, Vale, using him to your own advantage. Why send Vale, then Toma? Why coat your walls with my name?”

His smile deepens by a fraction. “Because you only run toward the things you can’t control.”

I don’t lower my weapon. “You built this maze to bring me here.”

Volker tilts his head. “Not just you. All of you. Every player in their place. Even Kinley, though I admit I expected him to be standing at my side when the moment came.”

Kinley’s jaw tightens. “That was never going to happen again.”

“Of course it was,” Volker says. “You were good at the work. Ruthless when you had to be. You just needed the right incentive.” His eyes flick to Mara. “And here she is.”

Mara stiffens, but I step half a pace in front of her.

“You’ve been pulling threads for months,” I say. “So tell me what you’re trying to weave.”

“A net,” Volker replies. “Strong enough to hold you until you understand that you and I are not enemies. You’ve been dismantling the same men I’ve been hunting. The difference is, I do it with reach. You do it with rage. Combine the two, and there’s nothing we couldn’t break.”

I let out a short laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “You’ve mistaken obsession for alignment.”

Volker takes a single step forward, the guards flanking him tensing. “No, Elias. I’ve just recognized the part of you still starving for a master worth serving.”

“Never. Volker, not in this lifetime.”

Volker’s eyes narrow slightly, though his smile doesn’t fade. “Refusal has always been your preferred performance. Yet here you stand, drawn to me again and again, like iron to a magnet you claim to despise.”

I keep my weapon centered on his chest. “This ends tonight. Whatever you think you’re building dies here.”

He studies me for a long moment, then glances at Jori. “And what of him? Will you kill him, too, when he becomes inconvenient? Or will you keep him, as I did, for the value he brings?”

Jori shifts uneasily. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

Volker’s smile sharpens. “Not yet.”

Kinley steps forward, voice cutting through. “Enough.”

Volker ignores him, his focus fixed on me. “You could have been my successor. Instead, you cling to scraps—alliances that will betray you. That woman will betray you.”

Mara’s breath catches, but I don’t look back. “You don’t know her.”

“I know exactly what she is,” Volker says. “And I know exactly what you’ll do when she proves me right.”

The hum of the generators swells, as if the room itself is waiting for my choice.

I shift my aim a fraction higher, forcing Volker to meet my eyes. “You’ve been building toward this moment for too long to think I’d take your offer.”

“You will,” he says. “Because you’re tired, Elias. You’re bleeding. And she”—his gaze flicks to Mara—“is an anchor you can’t cut loose.”

Kinley moves to my flank, weapon trained on the nearest guard. Lydia shifts closer too, pressing our captive forward as a shield, her free hand on the pistol at her hip. Mara hasn’t moved from my back, her fingers still gripping my belt.

“Last chance,” I tell Volker.

He smiles. “It’s mine.”

A soft click echoes—his signal. From the upper platforms, more shapes emerge, rifles glinting in the industrial light.

Mara tenses. Kinley swears under his breath. Lydia steadies herself, eyes locked on the nearest threat.

Volker spreads his hands. “Now we find out if you’re as fast as they say.”

The air is suddenly heavier, the chamber charged with the promise of violence. Every heartbeat is a countdown. My finger tightens on the trigger.

I see the first rifle twitch, the minute shift that means he’s about to fire. “Down!” I bark.

Kinley drops to one knee and fires, the report deafening against the steel. Lydia shoves our captive aside and shoots the guard nearest to Volker. Mara flattens herself behind me as I pull the trigger, my bullet striking the platform rail inches from Volker’s shoulder.

Chaos detonates. Gunfire cracks from every tier. Sparks rain down from a ricochet above us. I drag Mara toward the nearest support pillar, shielding her from the crossfire. Kinley pushes Jori ahead of him toward cover. Lydia is already moving to flank, her weapon snapping with controlled bursts.

Volker’s voice cuts through the noise. “Bring them down!”

We’re pinned. For a moment, the heat from the turbines is drowned out by the heat of the fight itself—raw, immediate, and choking. I lean around the pillar, fire twice, and drop one of the upper-level shooters. Kinley nails another before they can reload.

But there are too many.

I grab Mara’s wrist. “We move on my mark.” She nods, eyes locked on mine, trusting me with a fear that coils tight in my chest.

“One,” I say, then fire again. “Two.”

“Three!”

On three, I shove Mara ahead, keeping my body between hers and the hail of rounds screaming past us. Kinley hauls Jori forward, Lydia covering our backs with surgical precision. Her shots pick off anyone who leans too far from their platform for a clean angle.

We weave through the jungle of steel supports, using the machinery’s bulk as intermittent cover. Our captive is long forgotten as we make our way out of this situation.

Volker’s forces shout orders over the gunfire, their footsteps pounding the grated catwalks above. The turbine’s roar mixes with the smell of burning oil and the metallic tang of hot brass shells littering the floor.

Volker’s still on the far side, watching us push forward with that infuriating composure, not even flinching as bullets tear the air. “You won’t make it out!” he calls. “Every exit ends where I stand.”

I don’t give him the satisfaction of a reply. Instead, I angle us toward a maintenance stair spiraling up along the chamber wall. It’s a choke point, but it leads to an overhead walkway where the fire is thinner.

“Up!” I order. Kinley goes first with Jori, Mara follows tight behind, and Lydia takes rear guard. I stay at the bottom until Mara’s clear, then back up the steps, firing in bursts to keep heads down.

We reach the walkway, the height giving us a moment’s reprieve. But Volker’s men are already repositioning. Lydia’s jaw tightens as she leans over the rail, sending three shots into a knot of them pushing toward the stairs.

Volker’s voice rises again, closer now, echoing off the walls. “Eidolon, you can’t outrun this. Bring her to me, and I’ll let the others walk.”

Mara’s steps falter at the words. I catch her arm, hard enough to make her look at me. “Keep moving,” I say. “His mouth’s the most dangerous thing in this room.”