CHAPTER 81

CHAPTER 81
Chapter 81:
Reynolds' POV
“The girl’s corpse was confirmed an hour ago.”
I didn’t blink.
The soldier in the passenger seat held out a tablet showing a still image. Diane Ross. Pale. Blood slicked across her collarbone. Eyes wide open, but unseeing.
“Time of death?” I asked.
“3:42 a.m.”
I leaned back against the leather seat and let my fingers tap the cane resting across my lap.
“Such a shame,” I murmured.
He hesitated. “You don’t seem surprised, sir.”
“I’m not.” I glanced out the window as the van curved down the silent industrial road. “Diane knew the game she was playing. She just forgot the rules once the pawn started pretending to be king.”
The soldier exchanged a glance with the driver. “Sir, with all due respect—Raymond did warn you she might become a liability.”
I smiled faintly.
“Oh, Raymond warned me of many things. But never about his own ambition.”
The rain began to fall harder, streaking across the windshield as we neared the entrance to Diane’s lair. The building loomed like a broken cathedral — hollow and elegant, the final resting place of a woman who used to set fires just to feel the warmth.
I let the silence linger before speaking again.
“She and I had an understanding,” I said softly. “Ever since he pulled me out of that Russian hole. She was the only one clever enough to know why I stayed quiet. Why I let Raymond believe I owed him.”
The driver slowed as the gate came into view, half-blown open, blood already staining the stone steps.
“She kept your secrets,” the soldier muttered.
I gave a small nod. “And I kept hers.”
A pause.
Then I smiled again — slow, calculated.
“But now she’s gone. Which means her pieces… are mine.”
The vehicle rolled to a halt.
I stepped out slowly, the cane tapping once against wet pavement. The air stank of old steel and fresh blood. A few birds circled above the building, drawn to the scent of rot.
Two guards came forward. “The body’s still inside, sir.”
“I’m aware.”
We stepped through what used to be her war room. Screens cracked. Blueprints scattered. And there she was — still on the floor, red hair fanned out like a halo gone wrong. Her expression was twisted somewhere between fury and disbelief.
I crouched next to her body, studying the slice across her throat.
“Not clean,” I said.
“No,” one of the guards replied. “More like she tried to run. Raymond caught her in the back, then finished her off.”
I reached forward and gently closed her eyes with two fingers.
“No grace,” I muttered. “He kills like a dog.”
The guard said nothing.
“Take what’s left of her files,” I said, rising. “Destroy the rest. The systems. The weapons. Anything coded to her thumbprint.”
The guards nodded and got to work.
As I turned back toward the door, I paused to glance down the corridor where her private quarters once were.
She’d kept journals in there. Real paper. Messy handwriting. Paranoid as hell.
I’d find them later.
For now…
I looked to the sky through the broken ceiling. The clouds churned like something was being stirred above the world.
Raymond thinks he’s winning.
He thinks Diane’s death makes him the center.
But he forgot who built the circle in the first place.
My lips curved faintly.
“Let the boy have his explosions,” I said under my breath. “When the ash clears… I’ll be the only one left standing.”
And with that, I turned and walked out, leaving Diane’s blood cooling on the floor behind me.
She had served her purpose.
Now it was time to claim what was mine.
Raymond’s POV
We reached the safehouse just past sunrise.
The woods were quiet, too quiet.
The trees swayed like they knew something we didn’t.
I stepped out of the SUV first, boots sinking into the damp soil. “This is it,” I said, staring at the old concrete bunker tucked beneath moss and brush. “They’re inside. Or they’ve left traces.”
Kelly moved slower, eyes scanning everything.
Gina followed behind him, hands in her coat pockets like she was trying not to look nervous.
The building hadn't been used in years, but now—now it looked… too perfect.
Unbroken.
Still.
Waiting.
Something twisted in my gut, but I brushed it off.
“Gina,” I called. “Take the back entrance. Kelly, with me.”
They both nodded. No questions asked.
Kelly stepped beside me, gaze cold. Focused. His hand hovered near the pistol at his waist.
We moved into the front corridor, the concrete walls closing around us like a grave. The light flickered from the faulty old wiring, humming a low warning.
Kelly’s footsteps slowed.
“You feel that?” he said quietly.
I didn’t answer.
He crouched near the doorway and picked up something.
A piece of paper.
Folded once. Plain. No dust.
My heart thudded.
He turned it over, then stiffened.
“Raymond,” he muttered.
I snatched it from his fingers.
One sentence.
“You should’ve known I’d always stay three steps ahead. –K”
My eyes narrowed. “No… no, no.”
Kelly looked around sharply. “Raymond, we need to go. Now.”
I whipped my head toward the far end of the corridor. The walls… they weren’t humming from power.
They were ticking.
Beeping.
Dozens of them.
Little red lights blinking beneath grates, near floor panels, tucked into corners like waiting eyes.
“This place is rigged—” Kelly started.
“GO!” I roared.
Gina’s voice cracked through the earpiece. “What the hell is happening?!”
“RUN!” Kelly barked.
We bolted.
Kelly grabbed Gina as she rounded the corner and shoved her forward, sprinting out the back with her.
I turned toward the main hallway, my teeth clenched, feet pounding.
But I was too late.
The moment I reached the doorway—
I heard the click.
Then the roar.
Flames tore through the corridor like a beast unleashed, and everything—everything—went white.
Then black.
Kelly’s POV
The explosion hit like thunder cracking the earth open.
Flames burst from every crevice of the bunker, sending smoke and ash spiraling into the air. The shockwave knocked us both to the ground, dirt and branches raining from the treetops.
I scrambled up, dragging Gina behind a low hill.
She coughed, face ashen. “Raymond—”
I looked back.
Nothing but fire.
Smoke.
Silence.
Gina’s lips parted. “He… he didn’t make it.”
I didn’t answer.
Not yet.
Because maybe he did.
But one thing was certain—Kane had played us. All of us.