CHAPTER 6: THE SILENCE OF THE ARCHITECT
The air in the study was suffocatingly still. The revelation about the silver coins the very brand of their vengeance being the beacon Sam used to track them was like a physical blow. Orissa looked down at her hands, imagining the invisible isotopes clinging to her skin, her clothes, her soul.
"A wedding," Orissa repeated, the word sounding like a curse. "He thinks he can turn a decade of ruin into a celebration?"
"He's insane," Ivy hissed, her hand trembling as she pointed her laptop's camera at her uncle. "He thinks he owns us. He thinks he can just wait for us to get tired of the dirt and the running so we'll crawl back to the 'safety' of his shadow."
Luke looked at Ivy, his eyes pleading. "It's not what you think, Ivy. Sam... he's kept your names out of the official FBI files for years. He's been redirecting Miller's leads. He's been protecting you from the law so he can deal with you himself. If you leave now, if you continue this... he won't be able to stop the Bureau anymore."
Beatrix stepped forward, the hammer of her suppressed pistol clicking into place. The sound was deafening in the small room. "Then we'll just have to make sure you don't tell him we were here to hear his little 'fairy tale,' Luke."
"Wait," Orissa said, raising a hand.
"We can't leave him, O," Beatrix argued, her eyes cold. "He's a liability. The moment we walk out that door, he pings Sam. We'll be swarmed before we hit the highway."
"I'm not leaving him to talk," Orissa said. She looked at Ivy. "Does he still have the heart condition? The one that kept him out of the field ten years ago?"
Ivy nodded slowly, understanding the dark path Orissa was walking. "Arrhythmia. He takes blockers every morning."
Orissa reached into her tactical vest and pulled out a small, amber vial. It wasn't a poison that would kill him instantly that would be too messy, too loud. It was a concentrated sedative mixed with a paralytic agent they had developed for high-value targets.
"This won't stop your heart, Luke," Orissa said, her voice dropping to a terrifyingly calm whisper. "But it will put you into a deep, dreamless sleep for the next twelve hours. By the time you wake up, the 'tags' will be gone, and we'll be nowhere near Oakhaven."
"Orissa, please..." Luke stammered, backing his chair against the window.
"You chose Sam over your family, Luke," Ivy said, stepping forward to hold her uncle's arm. Her face was a mask of stone, but her eyes were wet. "Now you're going to choose a long nap over a bullet. It's a better deal than my father got."
Beatrix grabbed the back of Luke's head, forcing him still, while Orissa pressed the needle into the vein of his neck. Luke gasped, his eyes fluttering as the sedative hit his system. Within seconds, his head fell forward onto the mahogany desk, scattering the holographic blueprints of the city like digital dust.
"Ivy, wipe his recent calls and the security footage," Orissa commanded. "Beatrix, check the safe behind the painting. If he's the architect, he has a physical copy of the Summit's emergency egress. We need the one thing the digital sensors won't show."
The North Hills – 1:00 AM
They moved out of the house as silently as they had entered, but the atmosphere had changed. The victory felt hollow.
As they reached the van, Beatrix stopped, looking at her silver-rimmed watch. "The coins, O. If what he said is true, every cache we have stored across the city is a lighthouse for Sam. We have to dump them."
"Not just dump them," Ivy said, her fingers flying over a handheld scanner. "We have to neutralize the signature. If we just throw them in the river, he'll know exactly which bridge we crossed. We need to find a way to 'scrub' ourselves without losing the only currency we have."
Orissa looked back at the glowing lights of the North Hills. She felt like she was being watched by a thousand invisible eyes from the sky.
"We go back to the Cinder-Box one last time," Orissa decided. "We gather every coin we have. We aren't dumping them. We're going to use them as a decoy. If Sam wants to follow the 'silver trail,' we're going to give him a trail that leads straight into a dead end."
"And Miller?" Beatrix asked. "The police scanner says they've already identified the 'Vane' identity as a fake. He's narrowing the search to 'daughters of the fire.'"
"Let him," Orissa said, climbing into the back of the van. "By the time Miller finds the daughters, the daughters will have already finished the work their fathers started."
The Precinct – 2:30 AM
Detective Miller was standing over a massive map of Oakhaven, red pins marking every property once owned by the Thorne and Vance families.
"Sir! We got a hit!" an officer shouted, running into the room. "A silent alarm was tripped in the North Hills. A private residence. It was bypassed with high-level encryption, but the homeowner Luke Vance just missed his automated 'status check' with his security firm."
Miller grabbed his coat. "Vance? The architect for Lutanza?"
"Yes, sir. And there's more. A neighbor's doorbell camera caught a glimpse of a black van leaving the area ten minutes ago. We're tracking the plates now."
Miller's heart raced. He was close. He could feel the heat of the fire from ten years ago finally catching up to the present. "Get a tactical team to the Vance residence. And tell the FAA I want a drone over the Industrial District. If they're heading back to a hole in the wall, I want to see the door they go through."
The Cinder-Box – 3:15 AM
The girls burst into the burner apartment, their movements frantic. They didn't have time for stealth anymore.
"Ivy, get the lead-lined bags!" Orissa ordered. "Bea, get the cash. We leave everything else. If it's been touched by the silver, it stays behind."
They worked in a blur of motion, stripping the apartment of their traces. But as Orissa reached for her bag, she saw it.
The wooden box. The jasmine flower.
She stared at it for a second too long. Sam hadn't just predicted her; he had welcomed her. He had known she would come for Luke. He had probably even known she would poison him instead of killing him.
"O! The drone pings are getting closer!" Ivy yelled. "We have to move!"
Orissa grabbed the jasmine flower, its petals now brown and dying, and threw it into the space heater. She watched it shrivel and turn to ash in seconds.
"No more gifts," she whispered.
She grabbed her bag and ran for the door. They were no longer just the Silver Solitaire. They were a heartbeat away from being caught, trapped between a detective who wanted justice and a king who wanted a wedding.
The hunt for the Silver Solitaire had officially turned into a race for survival.