Chapter 32 Uncle Cy—Adrian
The footage ran for the fourth time. The crowd shift across the lower sectors beneath Garron's execution platform. The movement spread unevenly through the plaza. Workers near the scaffolding reacted first, then vendors beneath the transit bridge. Heads turned one after another toward the screens.
I paused the recording and rewound several seconds. The problem was not Garron surviving. Rather the three armed officers had looked at each other instead of dealing with the crowd. By the time the hatch opened, the people below had already decided what Garron was supposed to become.
I let the footage continue until the end. The officer opened the hatch. Workers surged forward. Security lines collapsed beneath the pressure.
I adjusted the sleeve over my left wrist and shut the screen off. The office dimmed immediately without the projection light. Warm orange glow along the ceiling reflected faintly from the fireplace against the black glass walls overlooking the city below.
The maid entered quietly enough that I noticed her from the door sealing behind her instead of her footsteps. She stood with her hands clasped together in front of her waist.
"Sir," she said carefully.
"Who is it?"
"He didn't give a name."
"What does he look like?"
She hesitated.
"Old," she said. "Tall, his lips are crooked. Also, he smiled at the guards when they searched him and found a gun."
I looked at her for a moment.
"Tell them I'm coming."
She nodded once and stepped outside.
Several minutes later a loud scream came through the hallway. I stood up and adjusted my coat. I threw another piece of wood inside the fireplace before exiting. The eastern corridor outside my office was almost empty. Most of the administrative staff had already moved into overnight scheduling. Soft orange lighting stretched across the ceiling panels above me. Two assistants passed me without speaking. A third lowered her eyes and disappeared into a side office before I reached her.
At the bottom of the staircase Perren stood beside the security checkpoint with his hands folded behind his back. He had worked for me twelve years without once breaking posture during duty hours, however tonight his shoulders sat too stiff. There was fresh blood along his lower lip. He stared straight ahead as I kept walking.
Cy stood inside the reception office near the windows overlooking the central districts. His hands rested behind his back while he watched the traffic streams moving through the lower sectors far beneath the tower. He turned toward me slowly.
Age had narrowed him slightly, but not enough. His white hair remained combed neatly backward above the same expression I remembered from childhood. He smiled.
"How did you get in?" I asked, grabbing my wrist.
"My face still gets me what I want, boy."
I crossed the room and sat behind my desk. He pulled one of the chairs out himself and sat down. His eyes moved across the office walls.
"No photographs," he said. "No decorations, and literally no warmth. Ugh."
"What do you want?"
"To see my dearest nephew! You're old now."
He crossed one leg over the other comfortably.
"You became difficult to reach after the election. Security teams and the schedules." He glanced toward the doorway. "Although some of them disappoint easily."
I stared.
Cy leaned back slightly in the chair.
"I watched Garron this morning," he said. "The entire execution."
His smile widened.
"Another man escaped your cruelty!"
"You are talking about cruelty?"
"That word again." He sounded amused. "I taught you that one myself."
"I was nine."
"Yes. And I loved it."
He answered without hesitation. The office stayed quiet except for the low mechanical hum moving through the tower walls. He tapped his fingers on the desk out of rhythm.
"You still control your face well," he said. "Better than before."
I looked at him evenly. A faint line appeared between his brows.
"Didn't I tell you not to show emotion, boy?"
My expression flattened. He smiled once more.
"There you are."
I rested both hands against the desk.
"You spent twenty years in a cell," I said. "You should have learned something from it."
"I did." His voice stayed calm. "My passion for my old hobby has grown significantly." His eyes shifted toward the office entrance.
"An empire. Reputations. Staff. And don't get me started in your mess with Garron."
I followed his glance briefly before looking back at him.
"Garron isn't important."
"He is now." Cy uncrossed his leg and leaned forward. "People watched the guards hesitate in front of him. That matters, boy."
"The situation is contained."
"No," he said softly. "It's spreading, and you know it! Let me help you with that."
“I don't need your assistance.”
He reached into his coat and removed a small cloth parcel tied with black cord. He placed it carefully on my desk.
"I brought you a gift."
My eyes stayed on the cloth before lifting back to Cy.
"Open it!" he said.
I untied the cord slowly and folded the cloth back.
Inside lay a severed finger. A silver ring still rested against the knuckle.
I wrapped the cloth closed again.
Cy watched my face closely.
"The ring was her idea," he said. "I thought it added personality."
I set the parcel down.
"That's for making me wait," he said.
I stayed silent.
Cy stood from the chair and buttoned his coat.
"You built all of this like an engineer," he said while looking around the office again. He walked toward the doorway extremely slowly.
"They love you here," he added. “Or fear you... regardless, they're very useful.”
He paused beside the pressure door.
"I'll see myself out," he said. "Your maid understands her responsibilities now."
Then he left.
The door sealed behind him with a heavy metallic thud.
I remained behind the desk without moving. The office door opened again.
The maid stepped inside holding her bandaged hand tightly against her chest. Her eyes had turned red, sniffing her nose quietly. Blood had soaked faintly through the edge of the wrap. She kept her eyes lowered toward the floor tiles. Tension showed along her jaw every time she swallowed.
I looked at the wrapped parcel still sitting on the desk between us. Then I looked toward the city beyond the glass.
“You can go home tonight.” I said.
She made a tiny noise filled with pain.
"This is my empire," I said quietly. "If he touches it again, I'll kill him."