Chapter 15 The Truth He Never Told
"She's in the building."
No one challenged my statement. That was what truly terrified me.
Vince was already moving, swiftly loosening the restraints on my father. My father stumbled but managed to steady himself against the edge of the table.
"Which entrance?" Vince asked urgently.
"All of them," my father responded. "She doesn't need a door."
"Everyone needs a door."
"Not her." My father straightened. "The Vasquez line doesn't cross boundaries; they eliminate them. She didn't physically enter your territory, Vince. She made your territory accept that she was already inside."
Rafael grabbed a torch from the wall and lit it, but the shadows it cast felt unusual, thicker than normal darkness, as if something was hidden within.
The marks on my hands still throbbed. They were still moving. I clenched my fists tightly.
"Stop that," my father said sharply.
"Stop what?"
"Clenching your hands. You're cutting off your blood flow. The sigils need blood circulation to function."
"I don’t want them to function right now."
"That choice is no longer yours."
I opened my mouth to protest but then closed it. He was right, and it filled me with rage.
Vince turned to my father. "Can she hear us?"
"Possibly."
"Can she influence Isabella from a distance?"
"Not control," my father clarified. "Influence. There’s a difference."
"How significant is that difference?" Rafael pressed.
My father hesitated, and Rafael insisted, "How significant?"
"Enough to matter," my father finally replied. "Not enough for certainty."
The heartbeat I had sensed earlier remained, unwavering. It hadn't gotten closer; it was just there waiting for the perfect moment to push through.
I turned to Vince. "We need to move."
"Agreed." He led me towards the left tunnel. "My men are stationed at the north exit."
"Your men can’t stop her," my father interrupted.
"They can delay her."
"Can they?" My father locked eyes with Vince. "Have you ever seen a Vasquez in action?"
Vince hesitated just for a moment, but I noticed.
"No," he admitted.
"Then you’re just guessing," my father warned. "And that will get everyone in this tunnel killed."
Rafael's torch flickered inexplicably. There was no wind or draft.
We could all feel it.
"She's getting closer," I said.
No one disagreed.
Rafael stepped forward. "The journal." He handed it to me. "Open it. If she's activating the mechanism from outside, you need to connect with the architecture first."
"You can’t be sure that will work," my father objected.
"You can’t be sure it won’t," Rafael shot back. "Everything tonight has been untested, yet we're still alive."
My father faced me, his eyes revealing vulnerability.
"If you open it and can't control what lies within," he said quietly, "it will hurt. A lot."
"How much?"
He glanced at the sigils on my hands.
That was his answer.
I took the journal from Rafael, sensing its warmth. A pulse resonated under the cover, my father’s heartbeat, trapped in blood ink, pushing against my palm.
"Tell me one thing first," I said.
My father waited.
"Did you love her?" I asked, my voice steady. "My mother. Was it real, or was she just someone you were protecting?"
The question caught him off guard; I could see it on his face.
"Every single day," he replied. "That was the problem."
I opened the journal.
The pages glowed with warmth. Words lifted from the paper like steam, the old script morphed and started to shift. The sigils on my hands reacted immediately, drawn to the pages as if they recognized something familiar.
"Read it," Rafael urged.
"I am reading it."
"Out loud," he insisted. "The system responds to spoken blood language. By reading it aloud, you establish a connection. You’re telling the second system that you’re in control."
"And if my mother hears me?"
"She already knows where we are," he explained. "At least this way, you’re not silent."
The heartbeat above us shifted.
It moved quickly towards us.
"Read," Vince urged, his voice urgent.
I began to say the first line.
The language flowed from my mouth by instinct before I could force myself to comprehend it..
The tunnel walls cracked.
Old markings parted, releasing something contained for decades. Light coursed along the stone seams, it was golden.
My father clung to the table for support.
Rafael stepped back.
Vince stood firm beside me, unmoved by anything in his surroundings.
A sound echoed from the tunnel entrance above us. It was footsteps and they were slow and menacing. The kind of footsteps belonging to someone who had been patient for too long and was finally out of reasons to wait.
I stopped reading.
"Don't stop," Rafael urged tightly.
"She’s here," I stated.
"Keep reading."
A figure appeared at the top of the stairway.
The torchlight illuminated her face.
She looked older than any photo I had never seendark hair streaked with silver, eyes that resembled mine. A scar along her left collarbone matched the mark on my father's right hand.
She looked at me as if an eternity passed.
Then she smiled.
And the journal in my hands slammed shut on its own.
"You sound just like him when you read," she said gently. "I used to find that endearing about your father."
She descended into the tunnel.
Vince positioned himself before me.
She didn’t even glance at him.
"Step aside," she said softly.
He stood his ground.
Her gaze never left mine.
"Isabella," she said. "I didn’t come here to hurt you."
"You influenced my blood without my consent," I shot back. "You declared to the entire continent that I chose dissolution."
"I spoke the truth," she replied calmly.
"That wasn’t my choice."
"No," she admitted. "It was mine." She tilted her head. "And I made that decision the night your father put a kill switch in his own daughter, calling it protection."
A sound escaped my father behind me.
She finally turned her gaze to him.
An exchange occurred between them—old wounds still smoldering.
"Hello, Mateo," she said quietly.
My father's voice trembled.
"Elena."
She turned back to me.
"I'm not your enemy," she reassured me. "But I need you to understand something important before we proceed."
"Say it," I demanded.
Her eyes fell to the closed journal in my hands.
"The second system," she explained. "Your father told you it would burn your bloodline out if activated."
"Yes."
"He was right." She paused. "What he didn't tell you was that it was designed to transfer."
My heart raced. "Transfer to whom?"
She extended her hand.
Her palm was marked.
The same sigils.
Perfectly mirrored.
"To me," she said. "He created you as the trigger. He created me as the failsafe." Her tone remained steady. "He just never informed either of us."
I turned to my father.
His expression revealed everything.
"You were going to let it kill her," Vince said quietly, the weight of his words heavy with consequences. "And transfer the energy into Elena without informing either of them."
My father was silent.
"Why?" I asked.
He met my gaze, and for the first time that night, he had no answer prepared.
My mother lowered her hand.
"Because," she said softly, "he needed me to disappear one more time."