Chapter 223
Raven
The Surgeon's hand moved so fast I almost missed it.
One second, Maria was clutching that velvet box like it contained the Holy Grail. The next, The Surgeon had her by the throat, lifting her clean off her designer heels.
"You thought." His voice could have frozen helium. "You thought you could withhold this information. Play both sides. Negotiate a better position."
Maria's face turned an interesting shade of purple. Her Louboutins kicked uselessly at the air.
Well, this escalated quickly.
I maintained Marianne's vapid smile, but my muscles were already mapping trajectories. The enhanced guards had shifted position—blocking the elevator, the stairs, every goddamn exit. Nash's hand found the small of my back, fingers tapping morse code against my spine.
Stand down. Not yet.
Screw that.
But I held position. For now.
The Surgeon studied Maria like she was a particularly disappointing lab specimen. "I showed you the real Satan's Heart. Gave you the opportunity to contribute information. To be useful." He squeezed harder. Maria's eyes bulged. "Instead, you chose deception. Hoarding. The very antithesis of partnership."
"P-please—" Maria wheezed.
"I don't tolerate secrets among my partners, Ms. Santos." The Surgeon's smile was surgical precision and zero warmth. "And I certainly don't tolerate lies."
He released her.
Maria collapsed, gasping, one hand clutching her bruised throat. Hope flickered across her face—maybe she thought mercy was on the table.
Cute.
The Surgeon snapped his fingers.
Two enhanced guards moved forward with that horrible mechanical precision. No expression. No hesitation. Just meat puppets following orders.
The kind of orders that ended with Maria Santos becoming a statistic.
"Wait!" Maria's voice cracked. "Wait, please! I can explain! I thought—I thought if I had it, I could—"
"You thought you could negotiate." The Surgeon's tone was almost gentle. Academic. "Leverage your position. Perhaps even blackmail me into a more favorable arrangement."
The first enhanced guard grabbed Maria's arm. She screamed.
The second wrapped massive hands around her throat.
Jesus Christ, they're really doing this.
I felt Nash tense beside me. Saw his eyes calculating the same thing I was—distance to guards, weapons availability, collateral damage if this went sideways.
The math didn't look good.
Maria thrashed, face turning from red to purple to—
"WAIT!"
Everyone froze.
Even the guards paused, Maria still dangling in their grip like a really expensive rag doll.
Chandler Kovacs stumbled forward, looking genuinely distressed. Which was weird, because five minutes ago he'd been enthusiastically discussing how to monetize human suffering.
"Doctor! Doctor, hold on!" Chandler was waving something frantically. "There's a problem! A serious problem!"
The Surgeon's eyes narrowed. "Mr. Kovacs, I'm in the middle of—"
"That's what I'm talking about!" Chandler shoved his wrist forward, showing off what was possibly the ugliest watch I'd ever seen. Chunky. Tactical. Covered in dials and digital readouts. "My watch! Look at my watch!"
Oh, for fuck's sake. Now is not the time for a fashion emergency.
But The Surgeon actually looked interested. "Your... survival watch?"
"Doomsday Prepper Limited Edition!" Chandler said proudly, then caught himself. "But that's not—look, this thing has a military-grade Geiger counter. Cost me forty grand. Detects radiation from a hundred meters away."
"Fascinating." The Surgeon's tone suggested it was anything but. "However—"
"I've been standing next to Maria for half an hour!" Chandler's face was flushed, excited. Like he'd just discovered a new tax loophole. "You know, she's got that whole MILF thing going on, and I thought maybe after the presentation we could—anyway! Point is, if that pendant was the real Satan's Heart, my watch would be screaming. Those Soviet quantum anchors were basically portable Chernobyls."
He thrust the watch toward Maria's velvet box.
The digital display remained stubbornly dark.
Not a single beep. Not a flicker of radiation warning.
Complete. Dead. Silence.
"See?" Chandler looked almost disappointed. "Nothing. Zero. Nada. Not even 0.01 millisieverts." He squinted at the pendant. "That's either the world's most well-shielded quantum artifact, or it's made of—what? LED lights? Painted glass?"
The room went very, very quiet.
The Surgeon released Maria with a sound of disgust. She crumpled to the floor, sobbing.
"Well." The Surgeon picked up the velvet box, turning it over in his hands. "That is... unexpected."
He pulled out the pendant, holding it up to the light. The dark gem sparkled, throwing crimson reflections across the walls.
Beautiful.
Completely, utterly fake.
I could've told you that twenty minutes ago, asshole.