Chapter 45 After The Ashes
Mark’s POV
“Is she breathing?” The question ripped out of me.
Becca’s body lay on the leather couch, drenched in rain, her lips pale.
Danielle knelt beside her, trembling fingers brushing Becca’s cheek. “She’s cold, Mark. She’s too cold.”
“She’s in shock.” I dropped my jacket and grabbed a blanket from the hallway, wrapping it around her shoulders.
My hands were still shaking, streaked with dirt and blood that wasn’t all mine.
“She’s going to be fine. Just keep her warm.” Her feet were red from the acid that they spilled on the floor.
Danielle nodded but her eyes darted toward the window, where lightning flared over the city skyline. “I thought we’d die in there,” she whispered. “When the walls started falling, I thought…”
“You’re not dead,” I cut in, my voice sharper than I intended. “You’re safe now.”
She swallowed hard, glancing back at Becca. “Safe? After what we saw, Mark, do you really believe that?”
Her words hung in the air like smoke.
The house was too quiet.
No gunfire, no alarms, no orders barked through the radio. Just rain beating against the windows and the ragged sound of Becca’s shallow breaths.
I crouched beside her. “Becca, hey,” I whispered, touching her wrist. “Can you hear me?”
Her eyelids fluttered, and for a heartbeat I saw her eyes, the same eyes that haunted me every night since the day I lost her.
“Mark…” she rasped, voice fragile.
“I’m right here.”
She tried to sit up, wincing. “The fire,”
“It’s over,” I said quickly. “You’re safe. Davenport’s gone.”
Her lips trembled. “No one just disappears like that.”
I couldn’t argue.
The image of the burning mansion still burned behind my eyes. Davenport’s smile.
The explosion. The screams. The sound of Becca’s body hitting the floor when I caught her.
I forced the memories back. “You need rest.”
Becca’s gaze slid to her sister. “Danielle…”
Danielle grasped her hand instantly. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
The way Becca looked at her broken, grateful, made my throat tighten.
Family__ that was on thing I didn't have despite my wealth and affluence.
For all the chaos between them, this moment felt like the first time I saw the sisters as one heartbeat.
I stood and turned away, pretending to check the locks. “Collins said he’ll have men outside by dawn. Until then, no one leaves. No calls. No windows should be open.”
“Are you expecting them to come back?” Danielle asked, voice trembling.
“I'm just being careful, I don't want to take risks,” I said flatly.
She shivered, glancing at the door. “You don't think Davenport’s dead? Do you?”
“We both saw the buildings explode Danielle, don't get worked up,” I tried to soothe her.
The storm raged through the night.
Becca had fallen asleep, her head on Danielle’s lap, a soft whimper slipping from her throat every now and then.
Danielle hummed quietly, a lullaby I barely recognized.
I stayed by the window, one hand on the curtain, eyes scanning the darkness. The mansion’s ashes were still visible from here, smoke twisting up into the gray sky.
She had to be dead. No one survives that kind of explosion.
And yet, a part of me didn’t believe it.
Davenport was a serpent. The kind that sheds skin just to strike again.
Danielle’s voice broke my thoughts. “She loved you, you know.”
I turned slightly. “Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from Becca’s face. “She said your name in her sleep. Even when she hated you.”
“I didn’t come here for confession.”
“Yeah, you didn't” Danielle said softly, “but maybe you need one.”
I looked back out the window. “I’m already living with a lot of guilt, I have caused your sister a lot of pain,”
She was quiet for a moment. Then, “I just want her to smile again.”
The words hit me harder than I expected.
I wanted that too. I wanted her laughter back, the way she used to tilt her head when she was trying not to forgive me.
I wanted the fire in her eyes without the pain behind it.
But the woman on that couch wasn’t the same Becca.
The mansion had carved something out of her. Something I wasn’t sure I could fix.
The night thinned into a gray morning before I realized I hadn’t moved in hours.
Becca stirred, groaning softly. Danielle rubbed her arm. “Hey, easy. You’re okay.”
Becca blinked, confusion flickering across her face. “Where are we?”
“My place,” I said, stepping closer. “You’re safe.”
Her eyes darted around the room, tracing the old walls, the dim light filtering through the curtains. “You live like this now?”
“Like what?”
“So… empty.”
I almost smiled. “Guess I stopped decorating after you left.”
Her gaze softened but only for a second.
Then it was filled with something else, fear, realization. “Mark, those men… they said there were bombs.”
“I know,” I said. “We made it out before the full detonation. Collins scanned the whole perimeter, no one followed us.”
Becca sat up fully this time, ignoring the pain in her ankle.
“You don’t get it. Davenport didn’t plan that for you. She planned it for me.”
Her voice cracked on the last word.
Danielle stiffened beside her. “What do you mean?”
Becca’s eyes met mine, wide and glassy. “She kept saying I was the key. That everything she built was tied to me somehow.”
I frowned. “Tied how?”
“She never told me,” Becca whispered. “But she had these… files. Photos. Names. My birth certificate, Danielle’s, even yours. She said someone higher than her wanted me alive, until tonight.”
My blood ran cold. “Someone higher?”
She nodded. “I think Davenport was just a piece of it. The real person… they’re still out there.”
The silence that followed felt alive.
Danielle’s hand tightened around hers. “Then we find them. Together.”
Becca turned toward her, eyes filling with tears. “You shouldn’t have come for me.”
Danielle shook her head fiercely. “You’re my sister. There was never a world where I wouldn’t.”
I watched them, two sisters holding each other like the world could split in half and they’d still cling on.
It made me realize something brutal: I’d die for both of them.
Becca looked back at me. “What if they come again?”
“Then they’ll find hell waiting,” I said.
She didn’t flinch. “You can’t fight shadows forever, Mark.”
I crouched beside her, close enough to see the reflection of the storm dying in her eyes. “Then we start turning on the lights.”
For a second, the tension broke. The house felt less haunted. The rain eased.
Then Collins’ voice cracked through the comm in my ear. “Boss,” he said, breathless. “You might want to see this.”
I straightened. “What is it?”
“Surveillance feed from the east perimeter. Someone’s out there.”
My pulse spiked. “A survivor?”