Chapter 28
ALEX
Same concrete walls. Same furniture. Same smell of leather wax spicing the recycled air. Same hush making time feel slower than it is.
I’m settled into an armchair deep in the MESS building, waiting for Von Dietz and doing my best not to stare at Eva.
The déjà vu is staggering.
She sits across from me, perfect posture, eyes lowered toward the magazine she’s pretending to read. Or maybe she is reading. With Eva, it’s hard to tell.
I force myself to look at my phone. An economic forecast. Numbers always calm me. Not today, though. I scroll without seeing a word. My focus keeps sliding back to the woman across from me.
Too beautiful. Too desirable. Completely off-limits.
The last time we were here was a month ago in late September. It feels like another life. Back then, I thought I was prepared for anything. What a joke! I had no idea the ground could shift so violently under my feet.
I’ve been through shocks before. My parents’ ugly divorce. Father’s death. Breakups. Workplace backstabbing. But none compares to this last month that’s been the worst roller coaster of my life.
The hilarious part? Being named Duke of Rohinn and then being stripped of it, matters less than salvaging Fort Vauclairt, bonding with Millie, imagining a new home where Eva shared my bed, and thinking she could be mine.
I tilt the phone higher, hoping it makes me look less obvious. My thumb stills on the screen. I don’t read. I can’t. Every nerve screams with awareness of her. The way her hand moves to turn a page… The elegance with which she lifts her coffee cup… The smooth line of her throat as she swallows…
Stop it, Alex.
I will myself to focus on why I’m here. A week after the discovery of the tunnels, Von Dietz summoned Eva and me to his lair for an update about the investigation.
That’s why we’re here.
Finally, an assistant ushers us into the bunker-like briefing room. I step behind Eva, trying not to stare at the sway of her skirt.
Von Dietz stands at the end of the table, uncharacteristically uneasy.
He inclines his head to Eva. “Your Grace.”
He hesitates before saying, “Monsieur Castellane.”
Ah, there it is, the source of his discomfort.
Last time he addressed me as Lord Castellane as a compromise between a mere mister and “Your Grace.” But with Judge Sarazzin’s verdict out, lord is no longer an option.
The man is a stickler for protocol—a reliable shield against social awkwardness, I’ll grant him that.
Except, titles aren’t meant to shift back and forth within weeks.
He pulls out a chair for Eva. We sit. She smooths her skirt and rests her hands on the table.
Von Dietz opens a folder. “Everything you’re about to hear is strictly confidential.”
“Of course,” Eva says.
I nod.
He flips to the first page. “Let’s begin with the tunnels. My investigators are confident that the one leading from Fort Vauclairt’s second dungeon to slope predates the lodge tunnel by centuries.”
I lean back. This confirms my theory. Eva’s chest heaves as she shoots me a quick questioning look as if asking if it’s safe to hope at this point.
I wouldn’t, I telegraph, pursing my lips. This historical fact doesn’t prove Geoffroy didn’t know about the second tunnel or wasn’t involved in shady dealings.
“Our forensic archaeologists agree,” Von Dietz continues, “that the older tunnel was dug during the French Revolution and the Terror.”
“As an escape route?” I ask.
“Yes,” he replies. “By 1789, Fort Vauclairt’s dungeons had been out of use for generations. Few remembered there was a second dungeon beneath the old wing.”
Eva smiles, “Which is why the then duke chose to dig from there.”
“Very likely,” Von Dietz agrees. “Those were panicked years. Royals and nobles everywhere feared the French upheaval spilling into their kingdoms.”
“With reason,” I interject. “What was happening in France was a rococo horror show.”
Eva nods. “King and queen guillotined, the church sacked, countless priests and nuns murdered, half of Vendée wiped out by Robespierre’s ‘infernal columns’… If I were a duchess back then, I’d be worried, too.”
Her eyes flicker toward me and then back to Von Dietz. “That’s when our royal family gave away the nine keys to the Impenetrable Vault, right?” she asks him.
“That’s right,” he replies. “Prince Maximilien and Princess Francoise entrusted them to allies for safekeeping.”
Eva tilts her head. “Any updates on that?”
I catch the tension in her voice. I feel it, too.
“No, Your Grace,” Von Dietz replies. “We haven’t found the two missing keys yet.”
“What about Princess Felicia’s gift?” I ask. “Has she recovered enough to have another vision?”
Von Dietz exhales heavily. “No. Unfortunately, no. With only two months left, it’s a grave concern.”
The air thickens. It feels surreal to be one of the few who know our hidden nation could end in two months.
Von Dietz refocuses us. “The tunnels. It’s possible that, over the last two centuries, the two routes were used together.”
“For smuggling?” I ask.
“Likely.” He shifts. “If a duke of Rohinn or someone on his staff were inclined toward contraband, the proximity of the tunnels would have been convenient.”
“Did your experts confirm the lodge tunnel started as a natural cave system that was later improved?” I press, curious if this theory was correct, too.
“Yes.” He meets my eye. “That’s their conclusion.”
I smile, pleased.
From the corner of my eye, I catch Eva’s face.
Was that a faint, amused smile, or did I imagine it?
She turns to Von Dietz. “Where does the lodge tunnel lead?”
“It runs about one and a half kilometers to an exit hidden in another hunting cabin,” he replies. “Took time, since the tunnel’s too narrow to crawl through, but we found it.”
“Where?” Eva and I ask in unison. “Where is that cabin?”
“In the forest on the French side of the border.”
Eva shoots me an alarmed look.
“The tunnel runs downhill toward us,” Von Dietz adds.
“So it was for inbound smuggling,” I say.
“Correct. The French exit is fitted with a sled system. Goods were strapped down, then pulled by a winch at the lodge.”
Eva crosses her arms. “What kind of goods?”
“Drugs. Stolen jewelry. Counterfeit luxury items. Blood diamonds. And weapons.”
Weapons.
Eva flinches.
My stomach knots. I think of Kurt Ozzi’s sniper, and I know so does she.
I grip the table. “How recent?”
Von Dietz meets my eyes. “Very recent.”
I turn to Eva. She’s pale, her lips pressed thin.
I don’t soften my tone. “Did Kurt Ozzi use it?”
“Yes,” Von Dietz says flatly.
The concrete walls seem to close in.
Eva exhales hard and stares at her hands. I lean forward, every muscle strung tight. The dots connect, and the picture they form isn’t pretty.