Chapter 46 #2
“That’s why you were so sure,” I continue, my voice gaining strength as the truth anchors me.
“Why you immediately believed he was the one threatening you. Why you never questioned it. Because in your mind, he’s the inevitable outcome of your work gone wrong.
You think you know him, understand him, because what you created is inside of him.
But you don’t, you don’t understand him. ”
Henrik says nothing.
The words hang between us, raw and irreversible.
I feel sick. My father created what ruined Lucan’s life. My father willingly, while knowing the consequences, sold it to his father.
My throat burns. I press a hand to my chest like I can physically hold my heart together. “He doesn’t know,” I say, more to myself than to anyone else. “About you. About your sickening serum. He didn’t know he was your experiment’s aftermath. He solely blames his own father.”
Henrik looks at me then, really looks, and I think he finally realizes he’s lost something he can’t retrieve. “Elara—”
“I’m going to see him, and tell him the truth,” I say.
“No,” he says instantly.
Something in me breaks.
“Yes,” I snarl, stepping into his space. “You don’t get to tell me no after fourteen years of being dead. After fourteen years of letting me believe you were ashes in the ground while I learned how to survive without a father.”
Henrik opens his mouth. I don’t let him.
“You don’t get to stand here now and play protector,” I continue, my voice shaking with fury.
“You weren’t there. You didn’t raise me.
You didn’t watch me grow up. You didn’t hold my hand, or warn me, or save me from anything.
You chose your serum. You chose your god complex. You chose this over me.”
My heart slams against my ribs like it’s trying to escape. Silence detonates between us.
“And you know what?” I add, voice dropping, lethal and final. “At least he never pretended he wasn’t a monster.”
Henrik opens his mouth, maybe to argue, maybe to confess, maybe to justify again.
He doesn’t get the chance.
The alarm goes off.
It’s not a gentle warning tone. It’s a violent scream of sound that slices through the lab like a siren inside my skull. Red lights flash instantly, bathing the white walls in blood. Emergency lights kick in, strobes that make every movement look jerky and unreal, like a film skipping frames.
My heart slams into my throat.
Halldórsson’s hand shoots to his gun.
Henrik turns sharply toward the corridor, his face going pale in a way I didn’t think possible.
A door down the hall bursts open.
One of Henrik’s men stumbles inside.
He is bleeding.
Not a little. Not a scratch. Blood runs down the side of his face, soaking his collar, dark against the white of the lab. His eyes are wide and glassy with shock. His breath comes in wet, ragged pulls.
“He—” the man chokes.
Henrik grabs him by the shoulders. “What? What is it?”
The man swallows hard, eyes darting wildly as if the walls might open and swallow him. “He got free,” he gasps. “Vapor—he—he got free and he killed everyone in the lab—”
The words slam into me like a physical hit.
My stomach drops.
Henrik’s grip tightens. “Where is he now?”
The man’s lips tremble. “I don’t— I don’t know. He moved like—like he wasn’t human. Like—like he’d been eager to do it.”
The lights flicker again.
A heavy mechanical clunk echoes through the building, like giant locks sliding into place.
Then another.
Then another.
The lab goes into security mode.
Doors slam shut with violent finality. Steel shutters drop over glass. Panels slide out of walls. The corridor seals itself like a living organism defending its core.
Trapping us inside.
My breath catches.
“No,” Henrik whispers.
Halldórsson moves to the door and yanks on it. It doesn’t budge. He tries the panel, but it’s dead. Locked out. The system has overridden everything.
“Henrik,” Halldórsson snaps, “what did you build?”
Henrik’s face twists with rage and panic. He slams his fist against the wall, then forces himself to breathe, to think like a scientist again.
“It’s automatic,” he says. “Containment protocol. If the lab detects a breach, it seals.” Henrik’s eyes flash. “It seals the entire facility so whatever is inside can’t get out.”
The man who stumbled in slides down the wall, leaving a smear of blood behind him. His breathing is shallow and fast.
I can’t move. My limbs feel heavy, disconnected.
Henrik turns back toward his workstation with frantic precision, pulling up security feeds, scanning monitors, fingers flying across the keyboard.
Then the screens go black, every single one. Henrik freezes, his breath catches. Halldórsson’s eyes narrow. “That’s not him,” he says quietly. Henrik doesn’t answer. Instead, a voice fills the intercom.
Warm.
Calm.
Almost amused.
“Henrik,” it says.
My skin goes cold.
Henrik’s head snaps up, eyes wild. “Einar.”
A laugh crackles through the speakers, soft and delighted, like this is a private joke finally paying off.
“Hello, friend,” Einar says. “Busy I see?”
Henrik’s face contorts. “What the hell is this?”
Halldórsson steps closer to the intercom panel, gun still raised. “Einar,” he barks, “open these doors.”
“Oh, Inspector,” Einar says, voice almost fond. “Always so predictable. Still clinging to law in a world that moved past it years ago.”
Henrik’s hands shake with fury. “You did this.”
Einar sighs theatrically. “Yes. And no. You did most of it. I simply… guided it.”
“What did you do?” Henrik demands.
“I took what I came for,” Einar says simply.
Henrik’s eyes widen. “My formulas.”
Another laugh. “Our formulas,” Einar corrects. “Don’t be selfish. You wouldn’t have gotten this far without me. You wouldn’t have met the right people without me. You wouldn’t have survived without me.”
Henrik lunges toward the panel like he can rip the voice out of it. “You bastard.”
Einar’s voice remains calm. “Jealousy is an ugly thing, Henrik. But you would know. You’ve worn greed like a crown for years.”
Halldórsson’s gaze flicks to me, then back to Henrik. He’s connecting it quickly now, betrayal. Inside job. The real threat. Stupid fuck.
“And now?” Henrik spits. “What now?”
“Now,” Einar says, almost gently, “you die.”
My stomach drops so hard I nearly gag.
“You can’t,” Henrik says, voice hoarse with rage. “You’ll never get out of here. You’ll be hunted.”
Einar laughs again. “No one will know what happened.”
The intercom crackles, and for a moment all I hear is the faint hum of systems adjusting, sealing, calculating.
“You’re all inside,” Einar continues, “and I am outside. A perfect separation. A clean narrative. An unfortunate accident in a highly illegal lab. A tragic implosion of Henrik Vance’s little empire. And no one will ever know what I did.”
Henrik’s voice turns sharp, desperate. “There are supplies in here. Food. Water. Medical—”
Einar’s laughter cuts him off.
“You think you can outlast me?” Einar asks, amused. “You think this is a siege?”
Henrik’s face twists. “We can survive long enough to break out.”
Einar’s voice lowers, sweet as poison.
“Not with the ticking time bomb I locked in there with you.”
My Lucan.
Halldórsson’s grip tightens on his gun. “Fuck, fuck, and fuck!”
Einar pauses, as if savoring it.
“Your own failed test subject,” he says softly. “Your masterpiece of instability. Your consequence. I just added a little extra spice.”