CHAPTER 3
The van smelled of cold steel and institutional disinfectant—like a morgue pretending to be a vehicle.
Kade Vance sat chained in the back, wrists cuffed, ankles shackled, and a thick restraint bar connecting the two. The chains clinked quietly with every bump on the road.
Outside the small, barred window, the highway was nothing but a smear of yellow streetlights drowned in the storm.
He leaned his head against the steel wall and closed his eyes.
Not to rest.
To think.
His mind worked like a machine—fast, calculating, ruthless.
He traced every step that led him here, constructing the blueprint of his own downfall the same way an engineer might assemble a skyscraper.
Stage 1: Trigger a Level-5 breach.
Stage 2: Ensure Citadel saw it.
Stage 3: Force the government to shove him into the only prison he needed to enter.
**Blackridge.
The Pit.
The place where ghosts scream and no one hears.**
He didn't need luck.
He needed proximity.
If Elias was inside Blackridge—or beneath it—Kade had just bought himself a ticket into hell.
But it was worth it.
His brother wasn't just family.
Elias had been his map, his mentor, his compass—the only person who understood the strange way Kade's brain worked. The way he could absorb systems, patterns, and codes the way others absorbed language.
His mother had called it *"the Vance gift."*
Citadel called it *"biometric encryption architecture."*
Kade called it *"a curse I didn't ask for."*
Lightning split the sky.
Thunder rolled.
He opened his eyes again—because the temperature had dropped sharply.
Not figuratively.
Literally.
A strange chill slithered through the van.
And then he noticed it.
He was no longer alone.
In the darkness opposite him sat a man.
A man who hadn't been there when the van departed.
Black suit.
Black gloves.
No visible weapon.
Eyes like dead coals behind rectangular glasses.
Kade stared.
The man stared back.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then the stranger said, in a voice cold enough to freeze marrow:
"You're a difficult man to catch, Mr. Vance."
Kade's heartbeat didn't spike, but a faint tremor rolled through him.
"How did you get in here?" Kade asked calmly.
"You're intelligent," the man said. "But sometimes you ask questions with answers you already know."
Kade exhaled.
"Citadel."
"Good," the man replied, leaning forward slightly. "Let's not waste each other's time."
He tapped a small device on the wall.
Instant silence.
The hum of the engine disappeared.
The rain vanished.
Even the vibration of the wheels died.
A **sound dampener**.
A bubble of nothingness.
The man removed his glasses. His eyes were cold—too cold.
Eyes of someone who'd watched human lives end without blinking.
"My name doesn't matter," he said. "But I know yours. I know your mother. I know your brother. And I know the code they left behind."
Kade frowned.
"What code?"
The man smiled a thin, humorless curve.
"That's cute."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded paper, tossing it onto the floor between them.
Kade recognized the handwriting instantly.
**His mother's.**
Scrawled across the paper, in the same elegant, sharp strokes she always used:
**THE ARCHIVE IS NOT A PLACE.
IT'S A PERSON.
IT'S IN THE BLOOD.
AND THEY WILL KILL TO OPEN IT.**
A muscle in Kade's jaw twitched.
He looked up, voice steady.
"You tortured her for information."
"Torture?" the man repeated lightly. "Such an unsophisticated word. We simply… extracted potential."
Kade's breath hitched.
Not fear—rage.
Cold, focused rage.
"That's why Elias was taken," the man continued. "He didn't give up the data. The Archive stayed locked."
He leaned closer, eyes narrowing.
"But you, Kade Vance… you broke into a fortified digital bank without tools. You've cracked systems even we couldn't."
The man's lips twitched.
"You are the Archive."
Kade felt his stomach twist—not from shock, but from confirmation of the fear he never admitted out loud.
"So," Kade said, forcing his voice to stay level, "you're taking me to Blackridge to kill me?"
"Not at all," the man replied softly. "Your brother broke. You won't. That is why we prefer you alive."
He leaned back.
"For now."
The van suddenly lurched—motion returning, sound roaring back in, the rain hammering as if nothing happened.
The dampener had switched off.
The man was gone.
Not through the doors.
Not through the window.
Gone.
The chains around Kade tightened as the van made a steep turn.
A neon sign appeared through the rain-fogged window:
**BLACKRIDGE FEDERAL PENITENTIARY**
*Where the state sends secrets to die.*
Kade closed his eyes again.
Not in fear.
In focus.
"They think I'm a key," he whispered to himself.
"Then I'll unlock hell."
He lifted his head as the van slowed, headlights washing over the razor-wire gates.
The guard banged the metal wall.
"Wake up, prisoner! Welcome to The Pit."
Kade smirked.
He had never been more awake in his life.