The flight to Zurich had been a blur of white clouds and agonizing silence. Ava—now Claire Emerson—clutched her threadbare bag as if it contained her very soul. Inside, the digital chip felt like a lead weight, a cold reminder of the blood spilled to keep it safe.
Marcus led her through the winding, snow-covered paths of the Swiss Alps until a fortress of stone and glass rose from the mist. La Brune. It wasn't a home; it was a cage designed by a man who no longer wanted to be found.
As the heavy oak doors creaked open, the warmth of the interior did nothing to melt the ice in Ava's veins. The air inside smelled of expensive sandalwood, old leather, and something metallic—like the edge of a blade.
"He is in the study," Marcus whispered, his voice gravelly. He didn't look at her. He couldn't.
Ava stepped into the room. It was vast, lit only by the dying embers of a fireplace. At the far end, silhouetted against the panoramic window overlooking the frozen lake, stood a man. He was taller than she remembered, or perhaps it was just the aura of absolute power that made him seem like a giant.
"Liam?" she breathed. The name felt foreign on her tongue after six months of silence.
The figure didn't flinch. He didn't turn. He simply swirled the amber liquid in his crystal glass. "You were supposed to stay in Providence, Ava. You were supposed to be dead to the world."
His voice was a jagged shard of ice. There was no trace of the man who had once shielded her body with his own in the bunker.
"I couldn't stay away," Ava said, her voice trembling as she took a step forward. "I saw the news. I saw what you were doing to the Volkovs. I saw the monster they said you'd become."
Liam finally turned. The firelight caught the sharp angles of his face. His cheekbones were more prominent, his eyes sunken and devoid of light. He looked like a king who had burned his own kingdom just to rule the ashes.
"The monster is the only reason you're still breathing," Liam snapped, his eyes locking onto hers with a terrifying intensity. He walked toward her, his boots clicking rhythmically against the marble floor. Each step felt like a heartbeat.
He stopped inches from her. The heat radiating from him was gone; he was as cold as the mountains outside. He reached out, his gloved hand tilting her chin up.
"Look at me, Ava. Really look at me," he commanded. "Do you see a savior? Do you see a lover? No. You see a man who has traded his humanity for a seat at the table of tyrants. I didn't spend six months killing my conscience just for you to bring it back with a single tear."
"I have the chip, Liam," she whispered, refusing to look away. "We can end this. We can take down the Council together."
Liam's grip tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to show his dominance. "The chip is a key to a war you aren't ready for.
You think this is a romantic reunion? This is a prison. You will stay in the north wing. You will not speak to the staff. You will not leave your room without an armed escort."
"You're imprisoning me?" Ava gasped, her heart shattering.
"I am keeping the only asset I have left," Liam replied coldly, letting go of her chin. "Marcus! Take Miss Brooks to her quarters. Lock the door from the outside."
As she was led away, Ava turned back one last time. Liam was standing by the window again, his reflection in the glass looking like a ghost of the man she once loved. The Ice King hadn't just returned; he had built a throne out of his own broken heart.
Marcus didn't speak as he guided her through the labyrinthine corridors of the North Wing. The walls were adorned with paintings of desolate landscapes—gray moors and frozen tundras—reflecting the state of the man who now owned this place. Every step Ava took felt like she was descending deeper into a tomb.
When they reached a heavy mahogany door at the end of the hall, Marcus paused. He finally looked at her, and for the first time, Ava saw the regret etched into the lines of his face.
"He isn't doing this to hurt you, Ava," Marcus said, his voice barely a whisper. "He's doing it because he doesn't trust himself anymore. In his mind, you are the only thing left in this world that hasn't been corrupted. He'd rather you hate him in a cage than see you die in the crossfire."
"A golden cage is still a cage, Marcus," Ava replied, her voice thick with unshed tears.
Marcus sighed, opened the door, and stood aside. The room was opulent, filled with velvet drapes and antique furniture, but to Ava, it felt colder than the Providance streets she had left behind. As the door clicked shut and she heard the unmistakable sound of a key turning in the lock, something inside her snapped.
She threw her bag against the wall. The digital chip skittered across the floor, a tiny piece of plastic that had cost her everything.
Across the castle, in the dimly lit study, Liam Moretti stood motionless. The glass in his hand shattered as his grip tightened beyond human limits. Blood began to seep from his palm, dripping onto the white marble floor, but he didn't feel the pain. He hadn't felt anything since the night of the explosion—except for the moment he saw her face again.
Seeing Ava hadn't brought him peace. It had brought back the agonizing reminder of the man he used to be—the man who dreamt of a life away from the shadows.
"Sir, your hand," a voice came from the shadows. It was his new advisor, a cold-eyed man named Silas, who handled the darker side of the Moretti empire.
"Leave it," Liam commanded, his voice vibrating with suppressed rage. "Is the perimeter secure?"
"The Volkovs have scouts in Zurich, but they won't penetrate La Brune," Silas replied. "However, the girl... she is a liability. The Council knows she has the chip. Keeping her here is inviting an army to our doorstep."
Liam turned, his eyes glowing with a predatory light. "Let them come. I've spent six months building a graveyard. I don't mind adding a few more headstones."
"And the girl?" Silas pressed.
Liam looked toward the North Wing, his heart a battlefield of ice and fire. "She is no longer 'the girl', Silas. She is the only reason I haven't burnt the whole world down yet. But if she tries to interfere... treat her like any other prisoner."
Back in her room, Ava didn't cry. She walked to the window and pressed her forehead against the cold glass. She watched the blizzard outside, the white swirls of snow dancing in the moonlight. She realized then that Liam was wrong. He thought he was protecting her by locking her away.
But he had forgotten one thing: Ava Brooks had survived the Providance winters alone. She had survived a bunker explosion. And she would survive this.
She picked up the digital chip and hid it inside the lining of her coat. If Liam wanted a war, she would give him one. But her war wouldn't be fought with guns or money. It would be fought for his soul.
"I'm not leaving you to the dark, Liam," she whispered to the empty room. "Even if I have to burn this castle down to keep you warm."