Chapter 12: Chapter 2: The Pact of Ashes
Deals made in darkness never die cleanly.They just wait—for the right moment to collect.
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3 Days Later – Lancaster's Eastern Fringe
The industrial district smelled of rust and old ambition. Warehouses stacked like tombs lined the empty streets. A thick smog hung in the air—not from factories, but from the fire Alex had set two nights ago to collapse one of the Syndicate's routes.
Tonight, Lia walked here alone.
No heels. No silk.
Combat boots. Black coat. Blade under the hem.
She ducked into a narrow alley and approached an old subway entrance long sealed by the city. A pale hand reached from the shadows and slid the rusted door open.
Inside, waiting by a cold lamp, stood a woman draped in crimson.
Kestrel Vale.
Smuggler queen. Spy broker. Underground myth.And Lia's one-time mentor.
"You shouldn't be here," Kestrel said.
"Neither should you," Lia replied. "But here we are."
Kestrel gave a dry smile. "You're alive. That's new."
"I want access," Lia said. "To the Evermore Core's back-channel."
Kestrel laughed. "You don't ask for access to gods, girl. You steal fire and hope it doesn't burn your bones."
"I'm not stealing fire," Lia said quietly."I'm burning Olympus."
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Flashback – 5 Years Ago
Lia, seventeen, sits blindfolded in a cold steel chair.Her wrists are bleeding.She's in an old dockyard slaughterhouse.
Across from her, Kestrel paces slowly.
"You want to survive this world?" Kestrel says."Stop thinking people care who you are. Or where you came from. Power isn't given to survivors. It's handed to those who make everyone else disappear."
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Present
Lia holds Kestrel's gaze. "I'm not here to beg."
"I didn't think so," Kestrel replies. "But you still want something. And I don't deal in sentiment."
"I have dirt. Fresh. On Senator Myles, Councilwoman Dree, and a shipment through Port Greaves that's about to get the police chief's son fired."
Kestrel's eyes light up. "That would be worth a window into the Core. But I want one more thing."
Lia waited.
"I want Alex."
Lia's face darkened. "He's not a weapon you point and trade."
"I don't want him as a weapon," Kestrel said. "I want him to owe me a favor."
A long silence.
Then Lia nodded once.
"You get one favor. Not more."
Kestrel grinned. "Then consider the pact made."
She reached behind her and handed Lia a small obsidian USB drive.
"No passwords. Just plug it in. One minute. You'll be inside a channel no one even knows exists. It's not just conversations. It's the rot beneath the throne."
Lia took the drive.
And for a moment, she looked tired—not weak, but exhausted by how far they had to go.
"Thank you," she said, genuinely.
Kestrel shrugged. "Thank me when you're still breathing at the end of this."
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Elsewhere – Safehouse
Alex reviewed names from the Syndicate's fractured leadership.
One name stood out.
Cassian Rourke.
Old contact. Arms dealer. Ex-Syndicate.Now working off-grid—unless someone flushed him out.
Alex sent a message to Mira:
"Find Rourke. Offer immunity. I need weapons—heavy."
Then a second message to Lia:
"Ready to move?"
She responded instantly.
"Got the key. Plugging in now."
Alex smiled faintly.
The war was no longer cold.
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Later That Night – Deep Web Interface
Inside the safehouse, Lia plugged the obsidian USB into a secure rig.
The screen lit up instantly.
No login. No interface. Just streams of unfiltered data.
Surveillance feeds. Message intercepts. Secret votes. Audio clips.
And then—one screen froze.
A private conversation from the Thorne Tower.
Celeste Thorne's voice:
"They've started digging. Kestrel helped them."
Another voice. Familiar. Older.
Victor Harrow.
"Should I have her erased?"
Celeste:
"Not yet. Let her build them up.It's more fun to tear something down once it thinks it matters."
Lia stared at the screen.
Then smiled.
"Let's see how much they bleed when we turn their empire inside out."