Chapter 18 Six Hours
The cell door swung open.
Aria stared at it. At Lia standing in the doorway, keycard still in her hand. At the empty corridor beyond.
Freedom. Or at least, the illusion of it.
"Move," Lia said. Her voice was low. Urgent. "We don't have much time."
Aria's legs felt like they were made of lead, but she forced them to work. She stepped through the doorway, into the corridor.
The fluorescent lights were harsh after the dim cell. They made her squint.
Lia grabbed her arm—her good hand, firm but not rough—and pulled her down the corridor. Away from the main security station. Toward a different set of doors.
"Where are we going?" Aria's voice came out hoarse. Rough from disuse.
"Somewhere we can talk without being monitored." Lia swiped her keycard at another door. This one was unmarked. Plain grey metal. "Sebastian has eyes everywhere down here, but there are still a few blind spots."
The door opened onto a narrow stairwell. Concrete steps leading up. No cameras visible on the walls.
Lia pulled her inside and let the door close behind them. The lock engaged automatically.
They were alone.
Lia released Aria's arm and leaned back against the wall, breathing hard. Her injured arm was pressed close to her body. The movement down the corridor had clearly cost her.
"Talk to me," Lia said. "The video. Marcus's confession. Walk me through what's wrong with it."
Aria's mind was still catching up. Still processing the fact that she was out of the cell. That Lia had chosen to believe her—or at least, chosen to doubt Wells's narrative enough to take this risk.
"I—" She stopped. Forced herself to focus. "Marcus wouldn't phrase things the way he did. We worked together for years. We had protocols. Language we used."
"What specifically?" Lia's eyes were sharp. Assessing. "I need details, Aria. Not feelings. Not hunches. Details."
Aria took a breath. Steadied herself.
"In the video, Marcus said 'she called him Sebastian.' Those exact words."
"And?"
"Marcus would never say that. Not naturally. When we talked about targets—any targets—we used surnames. Designations. Never first names. It's basic tradecraft. You don't personalize. It creates attachment, and attachment is a liability."
Lia's expression didn't change, but something flickered in her eyes. Recognition, maybe.
"Even under duress," Aria continued, her voice gaining strength, "even if Wells broke him completely, Marcus's training would still be there. It's instinct. Muscle memory. He would have said 'Thorne' or 'him' or 'the target.' Not Sebastian."
"So you think Wells scripted that line," Lia said slowly.
"I think Wells doesn't understand how we were trained. He added that detail himself—probably to make it hurt more. To make it feel more intimate and personal to Sebastian. But in doing that, he made a mistake."
Lia was quiet for a moment. Her jaw worked like she was chewing on the information. Testing it.
"It's thin," she said finally.
"I know."
"One word. One phrase. Against hours of video evidence and financial records."
"I know," Aria repeated. "But it's wrong. And if that's wrong, then what else is?"
Lia pushed off the wall. Started pacing the small landing. Three steps one way, turn, three steps back.
"The message I got," she said, not looking at Aria. "It mentioned timestamps. Said to check them. That the story was 'backwards.'"
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know. But if Wells forced Marcus to make that confession, there should be evidence. Inconsistencies in the metadata. Signs of editing or coercion." She stopped pacing. Looked at Aria. "We need access to the original file. The one Wells sent. Not the version Sebastian's been watching."
"Can you get it?"
"Maybe. Sebastian keeps everything on his private server. But I'd need his access codes, and—" She stopped. Her expression shifted. "Wait. Marcus. If we can get to Marcus, talk to him directly—"
"Where is he?" Aria's heart was racing now. "Sebastian said to keep him separate. Secured."
"Medical wing. Two floors up. He'll be under guard, but—" Lia's phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out. Looked at the screen.
Her face went pale.
"What?" Aria stepped closer. "What is it?"
Lia turned the phone so Aria could see.
A message. From an unknown number.
Five hours, forty-two minutes. Clock's ticking. Hope you're making progress.
"Someone's watching us," Lia said quietly. "Someone who knows what we're doing."
Aria's stomach dropped. "Wells."
"Maybe. Or someone else." Lia pocketed the phone. Her jaw was set. Determined. "Either way, we're committed now. No going back."
She started up the stairs. Aria followed.
\---
Two floors up, the stairwell door opened onto a different corridor. This one was cleaner. Better lit. The walls were painted white instead of bare concrete.
The medical wing.
Lia moved quickly but carefully, checking around each corner before proceeding. There were cameras here—Aria could see them mounted at regular intervals.
"Won't Sebastian see us?" she whispered.
"He's not in the monitoring room," Lia said. "He's..." She hesitated. "He's somewhere else. Somewhere private. And the night shift doesn't pay as much attention as they should."
They reached a section of the corridor with three doors. Each one had a small window. A keypad beside each door.
Lia went to the middle door. Looked through the window.
"There," she said quietly.
Aria moved beside her. Looked through.
Marcus was sitting on a hospital bed, his back against the wall. His face was cleaned up—the blood washed away—but the damage was still visible. Bruises. Swelling. His eyes were open but unfocused, staring at nothing.
A guard sat in a chair by the door. Inside the room. Young guy, early twenties. He was scrolling through his phone, not paying attention to his prisoner.
"How do we get past him?" Aria asked.
Lia was already pulling her keycard out. "We don't. I'm his superior officer. I'm about to give him new orders."
She swiped the card. The door beeped. Unlocked.
The guard's head snapped up as they entered. He stood quickly, shoving his phone in his pocket.
"Ma'am, I—"
"At ease," Lia said, her voice cool and authoritative. "I need five minutes with the prisoner. Private conversation. You're dismissed."
The guard hesitated. His eyes flicked from Lia to Aria. Recognition dawned.
"Ma'am, that's—that's the hostile entity. I can't leave you alone with—"
"I gave you an order." Lia's voice dropped. Became hard. "Are you refusing a direct command from your superior?"
The guard's face flushed. "No, ma'am, but protocol says—"
"Protocol says you follow orders. Out. Now. Wait in the corridor. If anyone asks, I'm conducting an interrogation."
The guard looked like he wanted to argue. But Lia's expression left no room for discussion.
He left. The door closed behind him.
Marcus hadn't moved. Hadn't even looked at them. He just kept staring at the wall.
"Marcus," Aria said softly.
No response.
She moved closer. Sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to touch him.
"Marcus, it's me. It's Aria."
His eyes finally shifted. Focused on her face. For a moment, there was nothing. Then—recognition. And something that looked like shame.
"You shouldn't be here," he whispered. His voice was wrecked. Raw. "They'll kill you. They'll—"
"I know what they'll do," Aria said. "I need you to tell me about the video. The confession. What did Wells make you say?"
Marcus's face crumpled. Tears started rolling down his cheeks.
"Everything. He made me say everything. I tried—I tried to resist, but he—" His breath hitched. "He had tools. He knew exactly how to—"
"The specific words," Lia interrupted, her voice sharp. "Did he give you a script? Tell you exactly what to say?"
Marcus nodded. Miserably. "He had it written down. Made me rehearse it. Over and over until I got it right. Said if I deviated even once, he'd—" He stopped. Swallowed hard.
"Do you remember what you said?" Aria asked. "In the video. About Sebastian. About me."
Marcus closed his eyes. "I said... I said you were with him willingly. That you'd chosen his side. That you—" He opened his eyes. Looked at Aria. "That you called him Sebastian. That was the line he made me repeat the most. He was very specific about that."
There it was.
Confirmation.
Aria's heart was pounding. "Why? Why that line specifically?"
"I don't know. He just—he kept saying it had to sound natural. Had to sound like something you would have told me in confidence." Marcus's voice broke. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, I—"
"The video file," Lia cut in. "When did he record it? Before he brought you here, or after?"
"Before. Right after—right after he finished with me. He recorded it all in one take. Then he played it back, made sure it looked right. Then he—" Marcus's hands were shaking. "Then he brought me to the warehouse. Set up the whole scene with the chair and the ropes. Made it look like I'd been there the whole time."
Lia and Aria exchanged glances.
"So the timeline is wrong," Lia said slowly. "The video was recorded before the rescue operation. But Wells sent it after, to make it look like Marcus had just confessed."
"Which means the metadata should show the discrepancy," Aria said. "If we can access the original file—"
A sound in the corridor.
Footsteps. Multiple sets. Moving fast.
Lia's head snapped toward the door. "Shit."
The door burst open.
Four guards. Not the young one from before. These were older. More experienced. And they had their weapons drawn.
The one in front—a broad-shouldered man with grey at his temples—pointed his gun at Lia.
"Step away from the prisoner, Commander. Both of you. Hands where we can see them."
Lia didn't move. "Under whose authority?"
"Mr. Thorne's. He's been monitoring the feeds remotely. He knows you're here. He knows what you're doing." The man's expression was grim. "And he's not happy about it."
Aria's stomach dropped.
He'd been watching.
The whole time, Sebastian had been watching. Seeing Lia break her out. Seeing them question Marcus.
And he'd sent guards to stop them.
"We have evidence," Lia said, her voice steady despite the guns pointed at them. "Proof that the confession was coerced. That Wells manipulated the whole thing."
"That's not my concern," the grey-haired guard said. "My orders are to secure all three of you and bring you to Mr. Thorne. He wants to handle this himself."
"We don't have time for this," Aria said, her voice rising. "Wells is planning something. We have less than six hours before—"
"I don't care." The guard gestured with his gun. "Move. Now. All of you."
Lia's jaw was set. Her good hand was clenched into a fist.
For a moment, Aria thought she might actually fight. Take on four armed guards with one working arm.
Then Lia's shoulders slumped.
"Fine," she said quietly. "We'll see him. But when this is over—when you realize we were right—you're going to have to live with the fact that you helped Wells win."
The guard's expression didn't change. "Hands behind your heads. Move."
They moved.
Back out into the corridor. Down a different set of stairs. Not to the cell block.
Up.
Toward the private levels.
Toward Sebastian.
Aria's mind was racing. They'd found the proof. Marcus had confirmed Wells scripted the confession. The timeline didn't match. The metadata would show editing.
But none of that mattered if Sebastian had already made his decision.
If he'd already chosen to believe the lie because it was safer than believing her.
The guards led them to a door Aria had never seen before. Heavy wood. Polished. A palm scanner beside it.
The grey-haired guard pressed his hand to the scanner. It beeped. The lock disengaged.
He pushed the door open.
"Inside. All of you."
They stepped through.
Into a room lined with photographs.
A shrine.
And standing in the center, staring at a wall of pictures of a young girl with a gap-toothed smile— Elena
Which they have seen before
Sebastian.
He didn't turn around as they entered. Didn't acknowledge them at all.
He just stood there, perfectly still, staring at the photographs.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. Controlled. But underneath, Aria could hear something cracking.
"I watched you break her out of her cell," he said. "Watched you go to Marcus. Watched you extract his confession."
He turned then.
His face was a mask. But his eyes—his grey eyes—were burning.
"So tell me, Lia. Tell me, Aria." His voice was soft. Dangerous. "Why shouldn't I believe that this is exactly what Wells wanted? That this entire escape was part of the plan? That you're all working together to make me look like a fool?"
The clock was ticking.
Five hours left.
And Sebastian Thorne was standing between them and the truth.