Chapter 115 — The Empire He Carved in Blood

Chapter 115 — The Empire He Carved in Blood
THOMAS

Everyone watches me like I’m holding a fuse between my fingers.

Same war table. Same map. Same pins carving up Killian’s territory. I brace my hands on the table.

“He didn’t just torture us,” I start. “He built a system. A machine. And we were the pieces he tested until we cracked.”

Amara stands across from me, swallowed in Liam’s hoodie, sleeves hanging past her hands. Phoebe leans unconsciously toward Lee. Reggy sits stiff, fingers tapping like he’s coding ghosts. Clause is carved from stone. Ricky looks like he wants to strangle the air itself.

I keep going.

“He started with her,” I nod toward Amara. “Before the maze ever happened.”

Amara doesn’t interrupt. Her jaw just tightens.

“He put her in a mirror room. No exits. Just reflections—dozens. Sensors in the walls. Every wrong move shut doors she hadn’t found yet. Every right move opened one she never saw coming. Every hesitation earned a punishment.”

Phoebe’s voice is thin when it slips in.
“He strapped us to chairs in the control room. Forced us to watch. Every time she panicked, he’d pause the feed and… analyze it.” She swallows. “Like she was a lab rat.”

I nod once.

“Then came the doors. Six of them. Five trapped. Gas, water, fire—designed to scare her into choosing wrong. She picked the only one that wasn't an element. He called it a lesson in loyalty.” A humorless breath escapes me. “She almost beat him. Found a vent. Got halfway out before he filled the duct with gas faster than she could crawl. Dropped her cold.”

Ricky’s grip on the marker turns his knuckles white.

“We didn’t see her again for hours,” I say. 

“He made us watch each other,” I say. “Every hit she took? He used it to teach us. Every scream Phoebe made? He used it to hurt her. Every mistake I made? He made sure she paid for it.”

“The worst part was when he separated us. We did not know who was still breathing. Time endless”

Silence thickens.

Phoebe pulls her sleeve down, but I already saw her touch the scar beneath it.

“You should tell them,” I say softly.

She hesitates—then lifts her chin.

“Before he took Amara from the prison… he took me first.” Her voice trembles, but she doesn’t break. “He handed me to his men. Said it was a reminder to behave. Afterward, he branded me—said I was his pet, every choice Amara made left a mark.”

Lee’s jaw flexes so hard the muscle jumps.

Ricky mutters a curse under his breath. Clause closes his eyes for one long beat.

“He didn’t torture us because we were valuable,” I say. “He tortured us because it controlled her. We lived with the knowledge that one step out of line meant someone else screamed for it.”

I breathe out slowly.

“And that,” I finish, “is why she didn’t kill him.”

Ricky finally meets my eyes.

“Because death is too quick,” he says quietly.

“No,” I answered. “Because burning his empire to the ground hurts more.”

Clause straightens from the wall. “Then let’s talk about how.”

The shift in the room is instant—grief turning into movement, fury turning into purpose.

Amara wipes a stray tear almost angrily. “Killian doesn’t compartmentalize. That’s his weakness. Every gun, every shipment, every bribe—he routes all of it through the same network.”

Reggy sits forward. “You get me account names, shell companies, offshore banks—anything he bragged about—and I can start pulling threads. Freeze assets. Flag transfers. Make every payment look suspicious.”

Clause taps a port on the map. “He funnels product through here. We choke it, his men stop getting paid. Men without pay don’t stay loyal long.”

Lee joins in. “Cut his credit lines with the refineries. No fuel, no shipments. Ships stuck offshore burn money by the hour.”

I add, “His fortress isn’t just where he hides. It’s where he stores weapons, cash, backups. You cave the tunnels beneath it, he loses everything in one hit.”

“Good,” Ricky says. “Starve him from the outside. Cave him in from the center.”

“And we wait until Liam’s awake,” Lee says. “We’re not doing another gate run without our commander.”

The room dips quiet at the mention of Liam—fear, loyalty, and hope all tangled.

Amara exhales. “Then we gather everything while he heals. When he wakes… we put the knife in his hand and show him where to cut.”

No one disagrees.

Clause pulls the map closer. “Alright. Amara, Reggy—targets, accounts, movements. Thomas, every tunnel and hidden entrance you remember. Lee—Phoebe stays protected and the men stay disciplined.”

Phoebe rolls her eyes weakly. “Love being the designated weak point.”

“Not anymore,” Lee murmurs, steady hand on her shoulder.

The war room buzzes back to life—scratching pens, rustling papers, whispered strategy folding over old wounds.

I stand there for a moment longer, letting the noise bury Killian’s voice in my head.

He thinks we’re still trapped in his maze.

He’s wrong.

We’ve learned every trick behind those walls.

Now we own the map.

I watched Amara with a small sense of pride. She didn't let pain or emotion keep her from fighting. Somehow she fit here with us. A missing puzzle piece we never knew Liam needed. 

We spent so long fighting and she made us all pause.