Chapter 65

No saint left.

The sound of the blast still rang in my ears.

Even now, hours after the tribunal chamber had been cleared, and survivors pulled from the smoke, my body was vibrating with the phantom echoes of gunfire and betrayal.

I stood in the private war room inside the Cross estate, flanked by digital maps and surveillance monitors. The room, once a symbol of order and strategy, felt cold. Wrong. As if it no longer belonged to me.

Because the truth had changed everything.

Eva hasn’t just fled. She had disappeared beneath the city with Cilax, mercenaries, and at least two syndicate elders in her pocket. And in her wake, she left more than chaos.

She left a blueprint. A war.

Damian strode in, his shirt bloodied at the sleeve, his expression dark and unreadable. He said nothing as he tossed a folder onto the war table.

“Intercepted from Cilax’s bunker under the old shipping yard.”

I opened it, heart hammering. Blueprints. Research files. Test subject data.

“Project Adam,” I whispered.

Damian nodded. “The final phase.”

“Did you know?” I asked, voice cracking. “About this?”

He didn’t answer immediately. “Damian.”

He met my eyes, jaw clenched. “I knew your father was experimenting with gene therapy. Biological enhancement. Super soldiers. But I didn’t know what he did to the children.”

I flipped through the pages, charts showed abnormal brain activity. Heightened adrenaline response. Pain desensitization. Suppression of empathy. My stomach turned as I read the age on the file.

Subject 47-A: Luca Castillo. Age 6.

Damian looked away. “He didn’t just experiment on the unwanted. He used his own bloodline. You. Eva. Luca.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I never went through this. I never..”

“You were chosen for leadership,” Damian cut in. “Eva was the control. Luca was the weapon.”

I sank into the chair, heart splitting open.

It all made sense now.

Luca’s blackouts. His unnatural reflexes. His fear of hospitals. The cold, dead look that crept into his eyes during the darkest moments.

My brother hasn’t been sick. He’d been programmed.

Later that night, rain lashed against the glass as I stood in the Castillo mausoleum, facing the marble tomb that bore my father’s name.

“I know what you did,” I whispered.

Candles flickered around me. The weight of the dead pressed down like judgment.

“You broke us. You created monsters. And now I am supposed to stop the war you started.”

A voice echoed behind me. “You can’t stop it, Claire.”

I turned.

Eva stepped from the shadows, soaked in rain, her eyes glowing like frostbite.

“No guards,” she said softly. “Just us. For old time sake.”

I didn’t move. “You have a lot of nerve walking in here after trying to blow me up.”

Eva shrugged. “I just wanted your attention. Did it work?”

“What do you want?”

She approached. Every movement, a serpent’s glide.

“You’ve seen the files. You know what he did. You know what you are.”

“I’m not like you.”

“No,” she said bitterly. “You’re worse. You still think you can save this place?”

My voice dropped. “There are innocent people in Edenfall.”

“There are no innocent people in  Edenfall!” She shouted. “Just victims and villains. You think those council men are loyal to you? Half of them watched as your father injected me with things that made my back crack. My skin melt. I died and they applauded.”

My breath hitched.

She stepped closer. “I’m not here to win votes anymore. I’m here to cleanse the bloodline. Every last one of them.”

“Even Luca?” I asked quietly.

Something flickered in her eyes. “Luca is too far gone.”

“No,” I said. “You’re wrong. He is fighting it.”

“He’ll lose.” “Then I’ll fight for him.”

She turned and melted into the shadows once again.

Back in the estate, I stood before the gathered commanders. Rourke, Soraya, and the remaining loyalists. Damian stood behind me again. Quiet and armored in black.

“We are at war,” I said. “Not for territory. Not for power. For identity. For survival.”

I lifted the file. “Eva has activated the final stage of project Adam. I don’t know how many she’s turned, but if even half of the data is true, they’re faster, stronger, and unfeeling.”

Soraya’s eyes narrowed. “Assassins?”

I nodded. “Killers who don’t stop. Who feels nothing.”

Rourke spoke up. “We’ve identified two of them already. Ex-syndicate. Missing presumed dead. They’re not missing anymore.”

“They’re coming,” Damian said, voice cold. “For you. For the council. For Luca.”

I turned to him. “Where is Luca?”

Damian hesitated. “I sent him away.” “What?!”

“To a compound in Italy. High security. Gained guards. I didn’t know what he was. But I know he needed protection.”

My chest tightened. “I want him back.”

“No.”

“Damian…”

“If Eva gets her hands on him, she’ll use him as the symbol for everything your father built. The perfect weapon. The boy king. She’ll destroy him.”

My voice shook. “Then we fight harder.”

That night, I found myself alone in my chambers, staring at the portrait of my mother in the fireplace.

I wondered what my mother had known. What secrets she’d swallowed before her death. Had she known what Alexander was doing? Had she tried to stop it? Or she had simply watched, helpless?

A soft knock broke my thoughts.

I turned as Damian entered. “I shouldn’t be here,” he said.

“Then why are you here?” “Because I needed to see you.”

He stepped forward, and for the first time in weeks, there was no distance between us.

“I let you down,” he whispered. “I kept things from you. Things I thought would protect you.”

“You can’t protect me from the truth.”

“I know that now.”

I touched his cheek. “There are no saints left in this story, Damian. Not me. Not you.”

He caught my hand and kissed my wrist. “Then we fight as devils.”

Our lips met. Not soft, not sweet. But desperate.

Two fractured souls clinging to the one thing that still burned in this crumbling kingdom.

Each other.