The storm had raged all night. Thunder rolled over Eastbridge as Ethan stood by the window, gazing out at the flickering skyline. Every light in the city pulsed like a heartbeat—fast, uneven, alive.
Natalie handed him a cup of coffee. "You haven't slept," she said.
"I can't," he replied softly. "Not when everything I thought I knew keeps changing."
She leaned against the table, arms crossed. "You think Claire's feeding them information."
Ethan nodded slowly. "She's more than just Damian's wife. She's the one keeping the Circle clean. Every shell company, every fake account—her signature's on it."
"Then confronting her is suicide," Natalie said. "If you walk in there, you'll walk out in a body bag."
He looked at her. "I'm not asking for permission. I'm asking for help."
Natalie sighed. "You're impossible."
"Maybe," he said, "but I need answers, and she's the only one who has them."
Two hours later, Ethan stood across the street from Locke Tower. The building loomed over the city like a blade of glass—sharp and silent. The security was tighter than he remembered—new cameras, new guards, new power.
He adjusted his cap and walked toward the revolving doors. He had used one of Vale's old contacts to set up a fake meeting with a fake identity.
Inside, the lobby shimmered with gold and marble. The receptionist smiled. "Mr. Warren? Mrs. Locke will see you now."
Ethan's jaw tightened at the name. Mrs. Locke.
He followed a security guard to the top floor. Every step up the elevator felt heavier, as if the ghosts of his past were riding beside him.
When the doors opened, Claire was already waiting—calm, elegant, and unreadable.
"Mr. Warren," she greeted, her voice smooth as glass. "Or should I say… Ethan?"
The door shut behind him.
So she knew.
"You've gotten good at pretending," he said quietly.
She smiled faintly. "Pretending keeps people alive."
"Then you must be immortal," he said.
Her smile faded. "You shouldn't have come here."
"I had to," Ethan said. "Because I need to hear it from you. Why did you do it, Claire? Why frame me? Why lie?"
She looked away, her hands trembling slightly. "You wouldn't understand."
"Try me."
Her eyes met his—soft but tired. "Damian wasn't just a man I chose. He was a deal I made."
Ethan frowned. "A deal?"
"They had my brother, Ethan," she said, her voice breaking. "The Red Circle. They said they'd kill him if I didn't deliver someone else to take the fall. Damian made it easy—he offered you."
Ethan felt the world tilt. Anger and betrayal sharpened within him. "You could've told me."
"They would've killed us both," she said. "I thought if I played along, I could save you later. But then they made me marry him. They made me part of it."
"Part of his empire?"
"Part of their network," she whispered. "I tried to find a way out, but once you're in, there's no leaving the Circle."
Ethan stared at her, his chest tightening. For three years, he had hated her. Now, for the first time, he saw the fear behind her mask.
"You were protecting him," he said softly. "But you were also protecting me."
Claire nodded weakly. "I'm sorry, Ethan. You don't know what they're capable of."
He stepped closer. "Then tell me."
She hesitated. "There's someone above Damian. A woman called Iris. She's the true voice of the Circle. Damian answers to her."
"I already know that name," he said. "I need her real one."
"I can't," Claire said quickly. "If I do, she'll kill everyone I care about. Including you."
Ethan's voice hardened. "She already tried."
Before she could respond, the elevator dinged. The doors slid open—Damian Locke stepped out, flanked by two guards.
The air turned cold.
"Well," Damian said, smiling thinly. "The ghost himself."
Ethan turned slowly. "You've been busy."
Damian spread his arms. "You should've stayed gone. You had your chance at freedom. But no—you had to come back and ruin the fun."
"Fun?" Ethan said. "You call framing people fun?"
Damian's eyes glinted. "Only when they make it this easy."
Claire stepped between them. "Damian, please—"
"Not now, darling," he said without looking at her. "I'm talking to the dead man."
He nodded to his guards. They moved fast. Ethan blocked the first punch, countered with a knee to the ribs, then slammed the second guard into the wall. The third reached for his gun—Ethan twisted his arm, the weapon clattering to the floor.
Damian clapped slowly. "Impressive. Prison didn't make you soft."
Ethan kicked the gun toward him. "Try me."
Damian laughed. "I don't need to. I've already won."
He pressed a button on his watch. Instantly, alarms blared across the tower. Red lights flashed.
"Security's on their way," Damian said. "You won't make it out this time."
Ethan looked at Claire. "You have to leave. Now."
She hesitated. "Ethan—"
"Go!"
Reluctantly, she ran toward the back corridor.
Ethan faced Damian. "You're making a mistake."
Damian smirked. "You think this is about you? You were just the beginning. Vale, the Circle, the ring—all of it leads to one thing."
"And what's that?"
Damian leaned close. "The Code of the Phoenix. Vale's secret. You have it, Ethan. You just don't know it yet."
Before Ethan could respond, smoke exploded from the vents. Gas filled the air, burning his throat.
He stumbled backward, coughing. Damian's voice echoed through the haze.
"Run, Phoenix. Run while you can. We'll finish this soon."
Ethan pushed through the smoke, barely making it to the elevator before collapsing to one knee. The last thing he saw was Claire's silhouette disappearing into another hallway—and Damian's cold smile fading behind the fog.
When he woke, he lay on a couch back at the safe house. Natalie sat beside him, relief flashing across her face.
"You're lucky I tracked your phone," she said. "What happened?"
Ethan sat up slowly, his head pounding. "Damian. Claire. The Circle. They're all tied to something called The Code of the Phoenix."
Natalie frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I don't know," he said quietly. "But Damian thinks I have it. And if he's right, this isn't just about revenge anymore."
Outside, the storm finally began to clear. The first light of dawn touched the city skyline.
Ethan clenched his fists. "It's about the truth."
And somewhere high above Eastbridge, in an office filled with smoke and shadows, a woman with silver hair smiled as she watched the news footage of Locke Tower's incident.
"Welcome to the game, Phoenix," she whispered. "Let's see if you can survive it."