The night was carnivorous.
A storm cracked through the sky above the Valez compound like the gods themselves were at war. Thunder rumbled deep, matching the rage in Nathaniel's chest. He stood drenched on the balcony, shirt clinging to him, a cigarette half-burned between his fingers. The Vault had not just opened secrets—it had opened scars.
Inside, chaos simmered.
Alfreda paced the hallway, heels clicking like a countdown. She had been quiet since the truth about the Widowmaker legacy spilled into her hands, since the footage showed her father swearing loyalty to the original cartel founders… and betraying them the next minute for a higher bidder.
"I'm going to kill him," she muttered.
Nathaniel didn't move. "He's already dead."
"Then I'll resurrect him just to do it again."
She flung the folder across the hallway—photos of her mother, tortured in a Widowmaker facility. Notes scrawled in ink: Test Subject 13. Failed seduction protocol. Asset terminated.
Nathaniel caught the last page as it floated.
"She wasn't terminated," he said softly. "She escaped. That's how she met your father."
Alfreda stared at him, trembling. "And he knew all along?"
Nathaniel nodded once. "He covered it up. Created a life with her. But never burned the proof."
"Why?" she screamed.
"Because leverage doesn't rot."
Silence stretched thick between them. Alfreda's voice cracked when she spoke again.
"I want to burn it all down."
"Then start with the ones still breathing."
⸻
Elsewhere, in a chapel that had long forgotten God, Celeste stood over a coffin.
Inside lay the Widowmaker priest who baptized the lies. His throat was slit, a smile still frozen on his lips.
"He confessed nothing?" her mother asked, arms crossed.
Celeste licked blood from her thumb. "He begged, though. That counts for something."
Her mother looked tired. "They're unraveling the truth too fast. Nathaniel and Alfreda are already digging into the past we buried."
Celeste's lips curled into a grin. "Let them. We didn't bury the past to keep it hidden. We buried it to feed the roots of what's next."
"What about the Vault?"
"We fed them enough breadcrumbs. Now, they'll unlock the rest for us."
She flicked a lighter, tossing it into the coffin.
The fire took fast—hungry and bright.
"I want the whole world watching when the truth finally explodes," Celeste whispered. "And I want Alfreda bleeding when it does."
Her mother raised a brow. "Still jealous she took Nathaniel?"
Celeste's laugh was cold. "He was never hers. He just didn't know it yet."
⸻
Three hours later.
Underground. The Vault.
Nathaniel and Alfreda stood side by side, deeper in the Vault's corridors. They hadn't slept. Couldn't. Each new file was a bullet to the past.
A file labeled Saint Protocol. Nathaniel opened it slowly.
Inside: Documents detailing how children were bred and trained as "Saints"—killers wearing halos of innocence. Project leaders: Celeste's mother. And… Alfreda's.
"No," Alfreda breathed.
Her mother's name was stamped across every contract. She had orchestrated the brainwashing of orphans, the torture of young girls into becoming "emotionless saints"—including Celeste.
Including Celia.
Nathaniel turned to her. "She didn't just survive the Widowmakers. She helped create them."
Alfreda choked on breath. "She lied to me. My whole life, she made me believe she was
Got it, baby! Let's light Chapter Forty-One on fire.
Chapter Forty-One: Red Lies and Resurrection
~3000 words | Love is a loaded gun. And someone just pulled the trigger.
Ready for chaos?
⸻
The sky bled red over the Widowmaker skyline.
Everything had changed since the Vault cracked open. Secrets no longer whispered—they screamed. And tonight, someone was going to answer for them.
Nathaniel stalked through the Valez estate like a ghost draped in vengeance. His shirt was stained with blood that wasn't his. His eyes? Unreadable. Because he'd just found the final piece.
The Saint Protocol wasn't just a project.
It was a damn blueprint—for a war bred in bedrooms, bloodlines, and betrayal. And Alfreda's mother was the architect.
Alfreda sat in the east chamber, silence pooling around her. She held the files like funeral roses, trembling as she flipped page after page.
"She called herself my mother," she whispered. "But she turned me into a weapon."
Nathaniel leaned in the doorway. "She turned all of us into something."
"But why me?" Her voice cracked. "Why my life?"
"Because you're powerful," Nathaniel said. "And power's the first thing the Widowmakers ever tried to own."
Alfreda rose, her spine straight despite the pain. "Then let's give them a rebellion instead."
⸻
Across town, Celeste slipped into the sanctuary of shadows—the old cathedral used for the original Widowmaker trials. Every stone knew a sin. Every pew held a ghost.
She wore a red dress again. This time, not for shock.
For war.
At the altar stood her mother, candlelight casting sharp angles on her face.
"They opened the final chamber," Celeste said.
Her mother didn't flinch. "And?"
"They know the Saint Protocol. They know you ran it. And that Alfreda's mother wrote the first child-binding oath."
Her mother sipped dark wine. "Then it's time."
Celeste raised a brow. "Time for what?"
"The resurrection."
Celeste blinked. "That project was shut down—"
Her mother smiled. "No. It was hidden. Just like your sister."
"Sister?" Celeste reeled. "What sister?"
Her mother's eyes glittered. "Celia wasn't the only one we built."
⸻
Back at the Vault
Nathaniel and Alfreda stood at the very heart now. The temperature dropped with every step, until they reached the final cell.
A name etched into steel.
PROJECT: SAINT ZERO
Alfreda keyed the code. The doors opened.
Inside was a cryo-pod.
And inside the pod? A girl.
No older than seventeen. Bruised. Breathing. Eyes shut.
Alfreda froze. "That's not… That's not Celia."
Nathaniel checked the data. "No. This file says her name is—"
He paused.
"Eira."
Alfreda backed away. "She's alive? For how long?"
"Since birth," Nathaniel said, sick with realization. "They created her to be perfect. A Saint without loyalty. Just orders."
"Who gave the orders?"
They both turned to look at the camera.
Live footage flickered.
Celeste's mother.
"She did," Alfreda said darkly. "And now she's going to pay."
⸻
Cathedral—Moments Later
The candles burst out as gunshots echoed in the cathedral. Celeste ducked behind a pew, blood spraying across the altar.
Nathaniel kicked open the doors, gun raised.
"Hands where I can see them!"
Alfreda followed, eyes locked on Celeste's mother.
"I should kill you," she spat.
Her mother turned slowly. "You'll regret not listening to me, daughter."
"I'm not your daughter," Alfreda snapped. "I'm what you made. And I'm done playing puppet."
Celeste rose from the shadows, holding a blade. "You kill her, and everything burns."
Nathaniel stepped in front of Alfreda. "That's the plan."
But Celeste didn't aim for Alfreda.
She drove the blade into her mother's side.
Everyone froze.
Celeste whispered, "I told you I wasn't your experiment anymore."
Her mother collapsed, blood pooling fast.
Silence.
Then Celeste turned to Nathaniel. "There's one more truth in that Vault. One file you haven't read."
Nathaniel blinked.
"What file?"
Celeste's smile was razor-thin.
"The one about you."