CALLAHAN POV
Someone was in my house.
I stared at Vesper's locked bedroom door, every instinct screaming danger. That photograph sliding under the door—I didn't send it. Which meant someone else was here. In my fortress. In my home.
Touching my wife.
"Vesper, don't open that—"
The lock clicked.
The door swung open and Vesper stood there, holding the photograph. Her face was bone-white. Her violet eyes were wild with terror.
"Is this you?" She shoved the photo at me.
I looked down. Saw myself five years ago, standing over a target. Knife in hand. Crescent moon scar visible on my wrist.
Damn it.
"Where did you get this?"
"It slid under my door." Her voice shook. "Someone put it there. Someone who knows what you are."
I grabbed her wrist and pulled her out of the bedroom. "We need to move. Now."
"Let go of me—"
"Someone is in this penthouse." I scanned the hallway, every sense on high alert. "Someone who wants you to know the truth about me. Which means they want to use you against me."
Vesper yanked her arm free. "You're The Architect. You killed Morgana. You've been lying to me for five years—"
"Yes to all of that." I met her eyes. "But right now, someone broke into the most secure building in the city to deliver that photo. That's not a warning. That's a threat."
She opened her mouth to argue.
Then the lights went out.
Complete darkness swallowed the penthouse. Emergency generators should have kicked in instantly. They didn't.
Someone had cut the power. All of it.
"Callahan?" Vesper's voice was small in the dark.
I found her hand and squeezed. "Stay close to me. Don't make a sound."
"I can't see—"
"I can." Years of training in the dark, hunting in the shadows, being the monster everyone feared. "Trust me."
"Trust you? You're a serial killer—"
A sound cut her off. Footsteps. Multiple sets. Coming from the living room.
They were already inside.
I pulled Vesper against the wall, my body shielding hers. Pressed my lips to her ear. "How many bullets does it take to kill a dying man?"
"What?"
"Everyone thinks I'm weak. Helpless. That's about to change. When I move, you run to my study. Lock yourself in. There's a panic room behind the bookshelf. Code is your birthday."
"How do you know my—"
"I know everything about you, Vesper. Every detail. Every secret. Every dream you buried when you signed that contract." I touched her face in the darkness. "I've been watching you for five years. Protecting you. Obsessing over you. And now someone wants to take you from me. That's not happening."
The footsteps grew louder. Closer.
I counted five men. Maybe six. Professional. Moving in formation.
"Ready?" I whispered.
"For what—"
I stepped into the hallway.
The first attacker came around the corner, gun raised. I was faster. Grabbed his wrist, twisted until bone snapped, took his weapon. Put two bullets in his chest before he hit the ground.
Emergency lights flickered on—dim, red, pulsing.
Five men in tactical gear filled my living room. All armed. All staring at me standing upright, no wheelchair in sight.
"The Architect," one of them breathed.
I smiled. "You broke into my home. Threatened my wife. That's a death sentence."
They opened fire.
I moved. Five years of pretending to be weak had made people forget what I really was. A weapon. A ghost. A monster who'd built an empire on fear.
Three shots. Three bodies.
The fourth man tried to run. I caught him by the throat, slammed him against the wall. "Who sent you?"
He gurgled, struggling.
"Wrong answer." I increased pressure. "Who. Sent. You."
"Vex—" he choked out. "Theron Vex—wants the girl—"
I snapped his neck.
The last man stood frozen, gun shaking in his hands. Young. Barely twenty. Terrified.
"Run," I told him. "Tell Theron Vex that if he touches my wife, I'll make his death last twenty-seven days. One day for every cut. Now get out."
He ran.
I turned to find Vesper.
She stood in the hallway, staring at the bodies. At me. At the blood on my hands.
"You just killed four men," she whispered.
"Yes."
"In less than thirty seconds."
"They were amateurs. Real threats take longer." I walked toward her, stepping over corpses. "Are you hurt?"
She shook her head. Couldn't seem to speak.
I reached for her face and she flinched. The movement cut deeper than any knife.
"I won't hurt you," I said quietly. "I've never hurt you. I never will."
"You're a monster."
"Yes. But I'm your monster. That contract you signed? It wasn't random. I chose you, Vesper. Five years ago, I saw you trying to save your father. Saw your strength. Your intelligence. Your loyalty. I wanted you. So I created the contract. I became the dying billionaire who needed a wife. I waited."
Her eyes went wide. "You... you orchestrated everything?"
"Everything." No point lying now. "Your father's bankruptcy wasn't random. I bought his debt. I created the situation that forced you to sign. I've controlled every aspect of your life for five years."
She slapped me. Hard. The crack echoed through the penthouse.
I took it. Deserved it.
"You sick—"
My phone rang. I answered without looking. "What?"
Seraphine's voice was urgent. "We have a problem. Theron Vex just went public. He's broadcasting on every dark web channel that The Architect is Callahan Devereux. Your identity is blown. Every criminal in the city knows who you are."
My blood went cold. "How?"
"Someone leaked it. Someone close. We have a traitor."
I looked at Vesper. At the photograph still clutched in her hand.
"Who delivered that photo?" I asked.
"I don't know. It just—"
The photograph burst into flames in her hand.
Vesper screamed and dropped it. The paper burned bright blue—chemical fire—and in the flames, words appeared like magic:
HELLO, BROTHER. DID YOU MISS ME?
The world stopped.
No. It couldn't be.
"Callahan?" Vesper stared at the burning message. "Who's your brother?"
"I don't have a brother." My voice sounded dead. "He died. Twenty years ago. With our parents."
The flames spelled out new words:
SURPRISE. I'M BACK. AND I'M TAKING EVERYTHING YOU LOVE.
The fire died.
In the ashes, one more message remained:
STARTING WITH HER.
Vesper looked at me. "Callahan, what does that—"
The window exploded inward.
A figure swung through on a rope. Grabbed Vesper. Before I could move, they were both gone—back out the shattered window, disappearing into the night sixty floors above the city.
I ran to the edge.
Below, a helicopter rose into the darkness. Through the window, I saw Vesper struggling. Saw a man holding her. A man whose face was hidden by shadows.
But I saw his wrist.
The same crescent moon scar as mine.
My brother. My dead brother.
Had come back to destroy me.
And he'd just taken the only thing I'd ever loved.