Page 101 of Rescuing Aria

“What about these?” A gloved hand pulls the documents from where they’re pressed against my lower back. Marcus’s crimes, exposed.

“Give them to me.” A guard behind him pulls out a radio. “Sir, we have him. What are your orders?”

“Secure him in Containment Level B,” Wolfe’s voice crackles through. Cold. Impatient. “I’m in the middle of something important. No interruptions.”

They drag me back the way I came, away from the dining room, away from Aria. Every footstep feels like a blade. Each inch of distance is a wound.

I memorize the route reflexively. Two right turns. Down a narrow staircase that stinks of concrete and bleach. Past a biometric scanner and a steel door requiring both keycard and numeric code. I log every detail.

Containment level B. Not back to my previous cell—somewhere deeper, more secure. The kind of place designed to hold someone who’s already escaped once.

The lights change from the warm glow of the upper floors to harsh fluorescents that cast everything in unforgiving clarity. The air grows colder, heavy with the scent of concrete and steel. Underground bunker, professionally constructed.

They shove me into a room that redefines the word prison. Cement walls, harsh fluorescent light, and a single steel chair bolted to the center. No windows. No distractions. Onlysurveillance—four cameras in each corner, red lights blinking like eyes that never blink.

The security chief oversees the process like a man taking pleasure in his craft. He straps my ankles and wrists to the chair with reinforced steel cuffs, checking each one himself.

“Mr. Wolfe will deal with you after tonight’s dinner concludes,” the chief says, checking each restraint personally. “He’s planned this evening for years. You’re merely an inconvenience, not a real threat.”

I don’t respond. He wants a reaction. Instead, I lock onto him with silence sharper than any blade.

His jaw ticks. He leans in, voice a low snarl. “Your team’s not coming. The girl will listen to everything Wolfe has to say, and when he’s done ruining her, he’ll come for you.”

He straightens, nodding to the guards. “Triple the patrols. I want eyes on every entrance, every exit. No one gets in or out without direct authorization from me or Mr. Wolfe.”

The guards file out. The door slams shut. Electronic locks hiss into place, sealing me in. I test the restraints one by one. Industrial strength. No give. No weakness.

I’m completely alone and on my own.

The chair doesn’t budge—welded directly to the floor. The cuffs show no sign of manufacturing defects or improper application. Whoever designed this cell knew exactly what they were doing.

But they missed one thing.

Sewn into the inner lining of my waistband—my backup. A lock-pick set thin as wire, invisible to the untrained eye. They found the knife. Found the documents. But not the thing that’s saved my life more times than I can count.

I close my eyes. Breathe.

Pain throbs across my ribs. Left side—definitely bruised. Maybe cracked. Vision blurred slightly on the right. Cutabove the eyebrow—bleeding has stopped. Thumb dislocation imminent. It’ll hurt like hell. I’ll deal.

Above me, Aria sits at a table surrounded by monsters.

Wolfe wants to use the truth like a weapon. Wants to unravel everything she knows. The reunion he promised will be nothing but a calculated psychological ambush. If he succeeds in turning her against herself, against me, we lose everything.

And I can’t let that happen.

Even if I have to break myself apart to stop him.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Aria

“You don’t mean that.”My father’s eyes narrow, the calculation in them shifting to something darker. “You’re upset, confused by Damien’s manipulations.”

“I’m seeing clearly for the first time,” I counter. The crystal chandelier light suddenly seems harsh, exposing every line in my father’s face, every flicker of his expression. The mask is gone now, revealing something cold and alien beneath the familiar features.

Wolfe watches our exchange, like a chess player observing an unexpected move. The nameless girl edges closer to the door, sensing the dangerous shift in the room’s atmosphere.

“After everything I’ve given you,” my father says, voice low and dangerous. “After all I’ve done to protect you, to provide for you—this is how you repay me?”