Chapter 36 Tick Tock
Flora
I watched the figure disappear into the darkness, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"Rafael, don't!" I grabbed his arm as he started climbing the mausoleum. He stopped and looked at me.
"The hospital," I said quietly. "The place where Eva and I were born. That's where he wants me."
"You're not going," Rafael said immediately. His voice left no room for argument.
"I don't have a choice."
"There's always a choice!"
"Is there?" I looked at him. "How many more people have to die before this ends?"
"Not you." He stepped closer, his eyes desperate. "I won't lose you. I can't."
"You don't have me," I whispered. "You never did. I'm not Eva. I'm just... a copy."
"Stop saying that."
"It's true." Tears burned my eyes. "I was created in a lab to be a spare part. That's all I am."
"That's not all you are." Rafael grabbed my shoulders gently. "You're Flora. You're real. And you matter to me. Not because of Eva. Because… because of you."
I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to believe him so badly.
But the Architect's words echoed in my mind. Time's up, Lucia.
Twenty-three hours left. And then what?
"We should go," Isabella said softly. "Before they come back."
Rafael nodded, releasing me. But his eyes stayed on my face.
We made our way back to the SUV. The cemetery was silent and empty now. Like the attack had never happened.
But I could see the bullet holes in the tombstones.
The drive back to the estate was tense. No one spoke. Rafael kept checking the mirrors, making sure we weren't followed. Isabella clutched the journal and USB drive like they might disappear.
And I stared out the window, watching the city pass by. Wondering if I'd see it again after tomorrow night.
When we finally reached the estate, Marco was waiting at the entrance. His face was bruised and battered, but he was standing upright.
He took one look at our expressions and his jaw tightened. "What happened?"
"The Architect made contact," Rafael said. "Tomorrow night. Midnight. The hospital where Flora was born."
Marco's eyes widened. "St. Augustine Memorial?"
"Is that where it was?" I asked.
"According to the files I pulled earlier, yes. That's where Dr. Vasquez performed the procedure."
"We have twenty-three hours," Rafael continued. "We need to use them. Figure out who we're really fighting."
"Then let's get to work." Marco gestured towards the house. "I've set up a command center in the east wing. Everything we need is there."
We followed him inside, past the damage from the explosion. The west wing was cordoned off, still smoldering.
The east wing was untouched. Marco had transformed one of the offices into something that looked like a war room. Computers. Monitors. Maps on the walls.
"Sit," Marco ordered, pulling out chairs.
Isabella immediately moved to a computer and inserted the USB drive. "Let's see what Father Matthews left us."
The screen loaded. Multiple files appeared.
Isabella clicked on the first one. It was a video file.
Father Matthews's face filled the screen. He looked tired and frightened. Like a man who knew his time was running out.
"If you're watching this," he began, his voice heavy with sorrow, "then I'm already dead."
My throat tightened.
"What I'm about to tell you will change everything," Father Matthews continued. "The truth about Eva and Lucia. About who's really pulling the strings. But I warn you, once you know, there's no going back. The person behind all of this... it's someone you trust completely. Someone who's been there from the very beginning. Someone who..."
The video cut off.
"No!" Isabella slammed her hand on the desk. "No! We were so close!"
"The file is corrupted," Marco said, leaning over to examine it. He typed rapidly. "No. Wait. Someone tampered with it and deleted the crucial part."
"Who?" Rafael demanded. "Who had access?"
"Someone with serious technical skills," Marco said grimly.
"A.M.," I said. "They must have known we'd find this. They deleted it before we could learn the truth."
"Then let's find A.M.," Rafael said. His voice was ice. "Tonight."
Isabella was already flipping through the journal again. "There has to be something else. Some clue Father Matthews left."
I watched her scan the pages, her finger moving quickly over the handwriting.
Then she stopped.
"Here," she said. "In the margin. He wrote something else."
We all crowded around her.
In tiny letters, almost illegible, Father Matthews had written a name.
Antonio Martinez.
"A.M.," Isabella breathed. "Antonio Martinez."
Rafael went completely still. "No."
"Rafael..." Isabella looked up at him with pity in her eyes. "Antonio is your head of security. He's been with you for ten years."
"I know who he is," Rafael said sharply. "And I know he would never betray me."
"According to this," Isabella tapped the journal, "he confessed three months before Eva died. He knew about the plan. Father Matthews wrote that Antonio was conflicted and coerced. He was trying to protect someone he loved."
"Who?" I asked. "Who was he protecting?"
Isabella kept reading. Then her expression softened. "His daughter. Maria. She's sick. Dying of leukemia. Father Matthews wrote that Antonio said the Architect promised to save her. Promised the best treatment."
The room went silent.
"He did it for his daughter," I whispered. Understanding washed over me. "They used his love against him."
Rafael's face was unreadable. But his hands were shaking.
"Where is he?" Rafael asked Marco. "Where's Antonio right now?"
Marco was already typing. He pulled up personnel records. "According to the system, he left the estate two hours ago. For a family emergency."
"He ran," Rafael said flatly.
"Or he's with Maria," I said. "If she's dying, he'd want to be with her."
Marco pulled up more information.
"Maria Martinez. Fifteen years old. A patient at St. Catherine's Hospital. Pediatric oncology ward. Room 412."
"Then that's where we go," Rafael said. "Now."
"Boss, wait," Marco said. "This could be a trap."
"I don't care." Rafael was already moving towards the door. "If Antonio knows who the Architect is, I need to talk to him. Tonight."
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
I pulled it out with shaking hands.
I opened the message.
It was from an unknown number.
And my blood turned to ice.
It was a photo. Of a young girl in a hospital bed looking thin and pale. A pink headscarf was covering her bald head from chemotherapy.
Maria Martinez.
But it wasn't the girl that made me freeze.
It was the message written on the wall behind her.
In red. Was it blood?
"Come to me or she dies."
I showed the phone to Rafael.
His jaw clenched so hard I heard his teeth grind.
"They have her," he said. "They're using a dying fifteen-year-old girl as bait."
"What kind of monster does that?" Isabella asked, her voice breaking.
"The kind we're dealing with," Marco said darkly.
Another message appeared on my phone.
"Tick tock, Lucia. Twenty-two hours left. Make them count."