Chapter 29: Chapter Twenty Nine

"BLOODLINES"

Astrid's POV

A heavy key rests in the palm of my hand. Cold metal against warm skin — a contradiction, as is everything else in my life now.

Freedom, he called it. But freedom has never been so simple, not when it comes to Eagan King.

I flip it over, feeling each notch and groove in the half darkness of my bedroom. Outside, day breaks upon Love Island City — Eagan’s city now. Soon the streets will echo with rumors of the Night of Serpents, of how the Vasquez and Kairos families destroyed one another. No one will know it was him. Us.

The bathroom door clicks close behind me. The white stick rests on the counter, face down. I’ve been denying the signs — the nausea that washes over me at the smell of coffee, the tenderness in my breasts, the kind of exhaustion that sinks in to my bones, and has nothing to do with our midnight maneuvers. I turned it just before Eagan called me in to see Blair’s last moments.

Now I reach for it, hand quivering.

Two lines. Clear as blood on snow.

“Fuck,” I whisper, the word suspended in the stillness.

A knock, knock at the bedroom door startles me. I shove the test under some towels and splash cold water on my face.

"Astrid." Liam's voice. Not Eagan's. "Meeting in ten."

"Coming."

I tuck the key into my pocket and square my shoulders. The woman in the mirror is not the girl from the orphanage. High cheekbones, sunken eyes, a mouth that has forgotten how to smile without a calculation. Sister Grace would have the vapors, if she could see me now.

But Sister Grace is gone, her blood drawn by the same families I helped kill.

When I get to the conference room, Eagan is silhouetted at the window, backlit by the morning light. The line of his tailored jacket conceals rigid shoulders. Liam is seated at the table, drumming his fingers against a stack of files.

“Facility Zero,” Eagan replies, not looking. "What do we know?"

Liam clears his throat. "Not much. Deep black site. Claimed to be Kairos' most secure holding facility. Medical experimentation, maybe.”

"Could she be alive?" This question is ice and fire at the same time.

"After fifteen years?" Liam shakes his head. “Blair was playing you, stalling.”

"But the photo—"

"Could be old. Could be fake." Liam’s gaze flicks to me and then back to Eagan. "Could be a trap."

Eagan turns; his eyes find me with the force of a blow. "What do you think?"

I step further into the room. “I think Blair Vasquez was a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. She knew precisely what card to play.”

“The coordinates are the same,” Eagan says, as if to himself. “35.167° N, 25.354° E. The same ones on Elara’s bedpost.

I recall the blood-red room, the little girl’s journal. The injections hurt. Daddy says I’m his best investment. My stomach churns, and I’m not sure whether it’s the pregnancy or the memory.

“She knew you’d stake the world for a chance,” I say.

Eagan's jaw tightens. "Perhaps I should."

“It’s on Kairos soil,” Liam warns. “International waters, technically, but their territory. Heavily guarded."

“I have taken their territory before.” Eagan's voice lowers to a threatening whisper.

"Not like this," Liam argues. “I mean, this is not some warehouse, or some nightclub. This is their fortress."

He wails and Eagan pounds the table. “I don’t give a damn if it’s Fort Knox. If she's there—"

"And what if she's not?" I interject, garnering the attention of both men. “What if it’s just as Liam says — a trap?”

“Then we spring it,” Eagan says flatly. "And kill everyone inside."

Liam runs a hand across his face. "Jesus, Eagan."

"You don't have to come."

"Don't be an ass." Liam gets up, grimacing as he puts a weight on his bad leg. "Of course I'm coming. I’m just saying we have to be smart about this.”

“Smart got us this far,” I say, to my own surprise. “We didn’t wipe out the Vasquez and Kairos families with brute force. We did it with calculation."

Something flares in Eagan’s eyes—approbation, maybe. Or astonishment that I’ve joined him in his crusade so fully.

He does not realize that I have more skin in the game now. Two lines on a plastic stick that would change everything.

“You said you’d give me a choice,” I remind him, pulling the key from my pocket. "Stay or go."

Eagan’s expression remains unyielding, but his shoulders tighten even more. "And?"

"If I go, where would I go?" I place the key on the table. "The orphanage is gone. Sister Grace is dead. This city now belongs to you.”

That’s not an option,” Liam mutters. "That's survival."

I look past him, focus on Eagan. “But if I stay, I expect something in return.”

Eagan's eyebrow dips slightly. "Name it."

"The truth. All of it. Elara, about Facility Zero, about… I step forward deliberately. “About why you built an empire just to burn it all down.”

The silence stretches between us, tight as a garrote wire.

At last, Eagan gestures toward the door. "Liam, give us the room."

Liam ponders for a moment before grabbing his files. “I’ll begin working on infiltration scenarios.” He pauses beside me. “Be careful what you wish for, little girl.”

When the door shuts, Eagan approaches the liquor cabinet and pours two glasses of whiskey. He offers one to me.

“No,” I automatically say, then curse myself.

Eagan's eyes narrow. "Can't? Or won't?"

I think fast. “I still have Blair’s blood under my nails. I want clarity, not cloudiness.”

He sets the glass down. "Elara was my sister."

"I know that much."

“Did you know she was eight when our father sold her? His voice is deadly calm. “Did you know I was at school when it happened? That I came home to discover her bedroom scrubbed clean, as though she never existed?”

I swallow hard. "The red room."

"A memorial. Or a reminder of my failure." He swirls the whiskey glass slowly. “Our father informed me she'd passed away. A tragic accident. For years, I believed him."

"What changed?"

"He died." Eagan’s smile is a sadistic thing. "Heart attack in his sleep. I discovered the ledger in his vault. The entries were coded, but explicit enough. Five million for “Project E.” Deposited into a Kairos account.”

I sink into a chair. "He sold his own daughter."

"For research. Human experimentation." Eagan downs his whiskey with one gulp. The coordinates on her bedpost — I found them when I was cleaning out the house. At first I thought maybe she had carved them herself, left me a message. But the truth was simpler. The buyer had flagged his property.”

Before I can stop my hand, it moves toward my stomach. I cover the movement with the discarded glass of whiskey, just for the thing to hold.

“So all this you built your empire, your money just to find her?”

“To fight them,” he rectifies. “Not finding her became … improbable, over time. The Kairos Brotherhood does not want for many things. Maintaining records is not one of those.”

"Until Blair's photo."

Eagan’s fingers tighten around his empty glass. "A ghost from the grave. Or a very elaborate lie."

“We killed her before we knew which.”

"A mistake, perhaps." He refills his glass. "But one I'd make again. A live Blair Vasquez was a bigger threat than anything she might know.”

So I put the untouched whiskey down. "So what now?"

"Now we find Facility Zero." Eagan’s eyes are flat and cold as winter ice when they meet mine. “We newly isolate it frame by frame. If Elara’s home, we help her come home. Otherwise we leave nothing but ashes.”

"And if it's a trap?"

"Then someone will die. It won't be us."

I rise, bracing myself with a fresh bout of vertigo. "When do we leave?"

"We?" Eagan's eyebrow rises. “Well, you’ve made your choice then?”

I think about the test in my bathroom, just out of sight. About the baby that’s growing inside me — Eagan’s baby. About the girl I was and the woman I have become.

"I'm staying," I say firmly. “But not because I have no place else to go.”

"Why, then?"

"Because you need me." I move in, close enough to see the flecks of gold in his green eyes. “Because I helped you ruin two families on one night. Because I can help you locate Elara.”

“And what do you get in exchange for that?” His voice drops lower. "Besides the truth?"

A future. Security. A world where my child isn’t somebody’s “best investment.”

“A seat at the table,” I say, instead. "Not behind you. Beside you."

A dangerous look flashes in his eyes. "You want to be my queen?"

"I want to be your equal." I hold his gaze. "Or I walk, key or no key."

For a long moment he says nothing. And then he touches me, his fingers brushing the edge of my jaw. You’ve changed since then, little bird.

"You made sure of that."

His hand slides down to my neck, not gripping, just a weight there — a reminder of the hold he has. "And if I refuse?"

"Then kill me now." My heart pounds against my ribs, but my voice is steady. “Because I won’t live in a cage — not even a golden one.”

I feel a little more pressure on my throat. "I could."

"But you won't." I don't back away. "You need me. Especially now."

His hand falls away. “Presumptuous of you to know what I want.”

"Am I wrong?"

Eagan regards me for a long moment. Then, suddenly, he laughs — a brief, distinctly unfunny sound. "No. You're not wrong."

He pushes the key back across the table to me. "Keep it. Because you picked this,” a reminder.

"I choose you," I clarify. “And the war you’re about to begin. But you’re not my prison any longer.”

“No.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “You’re something much more dangerous now.”

"And what's that?"

"A willing accomplice." He draws closer, his voice growing conspiratorial. “Are you scared of it, Astrid?” How well you’ve adjusted to my world?”

Yes, it does. But I don't say that.

Instead, I pocket the key and ask, “When do we leave for Facility Zero?

"Three days. Liam wants some time to gather intelligence, prep the team.”

My stomach lurches again — morning sickness or anxiety, I don’t know anymore. "I'll be ready."

When I prepare to leave, Eagan grabs my wrist. "One more thing."

I tense. "What?"

"The test." His grip tightens. "In your bathroom."

My blood turns to ice. "You—"

Every day, my men search every room.” His eyes bore into mine. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

I turn to pull away, but his hold is iron. "Let go of me."

“When were you going to tell me?”

"I wasn't." The truth tumbles out before I can stop it. “Not until I knew what the score was.”

"And now?"

I meet his gaze. “I have total clarity of where I am now.” The question is, do you?"

For a moment I imagine he’ll hit me. Instead, he lets go of my wrist and steps away. "Three days. Be ready."

"I will be." I pause at the door. "What happens if we find her? If Elara is really alive?"

A kind of vulnerability flashes across his face, so briefly I barely catch it. "Then everything changes."

"And if she's not?"

Eagan looks back to the window, his silhouette stark against the brightening sky. "Then nothing changes. We finish what we started. We burn them all."

I leave him looking out at his conquered city. The key jabs into my palm in my pocket — not a freedom after all, but something else, altogether. A contract, perhaps. Or a promise.

That is, three days to get ready for Facility Zero. Three days to prepare for a future I couldn’t envision.

Two lines on a plastic stick.

And a war that has only just started.