Chapter 17
seventeen
Vivi felt the building shift before she heard it—a subtle vibration through the soles of her shoes that made her stomach drop.
Stavros felt it too. His perpetual smile vanished, his eyes went sharp as glass, and his hand moved to his belt where she now saw a concealed holster.
The alarms hadn’t sounded yet, but they would.
And when they did, Dom would be trapped in a flooding sublevel with no way out.
“What was that?” she asked, feigning ignorance even as her pulse quickened. The icon pressed against her hip through the fabric of her dress, suddenly heavier than before.
Stavros didn’t answer immediately. He tilted his head, listening, then touched his earpiece. His expression didn’t change, but his shoulders tightened.
An alarm blasted three short, piercing tones followed by a calm, automated voice that announced in multiple languages: “Security lockdown initiated. Structural integrity compromised. All sublevel personnel proceed to emergency exits.”
“It seems we have a situation,” Stavros said, his voice as measured as ever, but now carrying an undercurrent of steel. “We have a breach, and water is flooding into the sublevels.”
Oh, no. Dom. If the sublevels were locked down, he’d drown.
Stavros’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it, and his expression darkened further. “Vault 485,” he said, looking up at her with new intensity. “Someone has breached Vault 485.”
She weighed her options in a fraction of a second. Lie and lose Dom. Tell the truth and maybe lose everything. But Dom was her only chance of saving Sabin. Her only chance, period.
“That’s my partner,” she said, the words spilling out before she could second-guess herself. “That’s Dom. He’s down there. You need to release the lockdown.”
Stavros went utterly still. The elegant courtesy never left his face, but his eyes turned cold. “Partner,” he repeated. Not a question.
“We needed what’s in that vault,” she said, stepping closer to him, willing him to understand. “They have my brother. They’ll kill him if we don’t bring them what’s in 485.”
“They?”
“Praetorian.”
Anger flashed across his face, but was gone in an instant, locked behind a neutral mask.
“Please,” Vivi said, a word she rarely used and meant even less often. “Release the lockdown. He’ll drown.”
Stavros studied her, his gaze unreadable. Then he touched his earpiece again. “Status on the sublevel breach?”
Whatever the response was, it made his mouth tighten. He looked at her again. “Your brother,” he said. “Sabin.”
“Praetorian has him.” She swallowed hard, hating how her voice cracked. “They broke his fingers. And maybe they’ve done worse since then. They’ll kill him if we don’t bring them what’s in that vault.”
“And what exactly is in that vault, Ms. Cavalier?”
She winced at the cool use of her last name. He’d always called her Vivianna in the past, but there was no hint of that familiar warmth now.
When she didn’t respond right away, he scowled. “Do you even know?”
She hesitated. “Research belonging to Heinrich Strauss.”
“Heinrich Strauss has been dead for years,” he said. “But his fees are still paid on time, so his vault is supposed to remain undisturbed.”
She glanced toward the security screens visible in the adjacent room, where red warnings flashed.
“You have no idea what you’re stealing,” Stavros said, his voice full of disgust. “What Strauss created. What Praetorian wants to do with it.”
Another alarm sounded and the automated voice returned: “Warning: Water breach on sublevel four. All personnel evacuate immediately.”
Vivi felt sick. Dom was running out of time. “I don’t want to know. I just want the people I care about to be safe. Please release the lockdown. Please.”
Stavros looked at her for a long, terrible moment.
Then he sighed, a sound so human and weary that it seemed out of place coming from him.
“I have been waiting—watching—for someone to come for Vault 485. For what’s inside.
” He paused. “I should have known it would be you. Or rather, someone using you.”
He moved past her to the security station, where one of his men sat, monitoring screens showing the rising water levels. Stavros leaned down, typed a complex series of commands, then pressed his palm to a scanner.
“Authorized override,” he said clearly. “Release sublevel lockdown, sections B through F. Emergency protocol seven-three-five.”
The computer chimed in acknowledgment. On the screen, a schematic of the sublevel lit up, showing doors unlocking in sequence.
“He has approximately ninety seconds to reach the main service elevator before the water does,” Stavros said, straightening. “I suggest you pray he is as capable as you believe him to be.”
Vivi didn’t respond. Her eyes were fixed on the security monitors, searching for any sign of Dom. The water level indicators kept climbing, now well above the six-foot mark.
“If he makes it,” Stavros continued, watching her carefully, “what then, Ms. Cavalier? You deliver the research to Praetorian. They release your brother. And then?”
She finally looked at him. “We disappear.”
He smiled thinly. “No one disappears from Praetorian. Not with what’s in that vault.”
Before she could ask what he meant, a chime sounded from the elevator. They both turned as the doors slid open to reveal Dom flanked by two guards—soaked, bleeding from a gash on his forehead, but alive. In his arms, he clutched a matte black titanium case with a digital lock.
“Dom,” she breathed, rushing to him.
He staggered out of the elevator, coughing up water. “Viv,” he managed, his voice ragged. “Got it.” He held up the case.
At that instant, she didn’t care bout that fucking case. She shoved it aside and wrapped her arms around him. “Are you okay? Jesus, you’re bleeding.”
“Hit my head when the ceiling came down.” He coughed again, harder this time. “Doesn’t matter. We need to go.”
“No,” Stavros said behind them. “You’re not leaving with that case.”
Dom tensed, his free hand dropping to where Vivi knew he kept a concealed knife. “Yeah, we are.”
“The plan has changed, Mr. Wilde,” Stavros replied. “As I was just explaining to your partner.”
Dom looked at her, a question in his eyes.
“I told him,” she said. “About Sabin. About Praetorian.”
Surprise flashed across Dom’s face before his expression settled into determination. “Then he understands why we’re taking this with us.”
“I understand a great many things, Mr. Wilde.” Stavros gestured to the hallway, and two more security guards appeared silently at the end of the corridor, their hands resting casually on holstered weapons. Not drawn, but a clear message.
Dom’s jaw tightened. He shifted his weight slightly, ready to move if he had to. Vivi knew that look. He was going to do something stupid. She squeezed his arm, a silent warning.
Don’t.
They followed Stavros through the corridor, up a flight of stairs, and into a spacious office with a wall of windows overlooking the cliff and the sea beyond.
The room was tastefully appointed in the same understated luxury as the rest of the villa, with antiques that Vivi’s practiced eye pegged as genuine Ming dynasty and Renaissance pieces.
“Sit,” Stavros said, gesturing to a pair of leather chairs facing his desk.
Dom remained standing, the titanium case still clutched in his arms. Water dripped from his clothes onto the expensive rug. “We don’t have time for this.”
“Then I’ll make this fast.” Stavros sat behind his desk, and for the first time, he looked genuinely regretful. “I cannot allow the Lazarus Protocol to leave this building. Not even to save your brother.”
“You son of a bitch,” Dom growled, stepping forward.
The guards drew their weapons instantly—not at him, but at Vivi. Dom froze.
“I bear you no ill will,” Stavros said, his courteous tone never wavering. “But this cannot leave. Not intact.” He paused. “Destroy it, or you don’t leave. Those are the only options I can offer.”
Vivi looked at the case, then at Dom, whose jaw was clenched in helpless fury. “If we destroy it, what about Sabin?”
“As much as I like your brother, it’s not my concern.”
“We’ll find another way,” Dom said, though his voice held no conviction. “We have to.”
She thought of Sabin’s face on that video feed, the bruises, the broken fingers. The way he’d looked at her and still tried to smile through the pain. The way he’d told her to trust Dom when it came down to the wire.
And it had come down to the wire.
“How do we destroy it?” she asked Stavros.
He pointed to a small furnace built into the wall—something she’d mistaken for a fireplace. “That burns hot enough to melt just about anything.”
“Why am I not surprised you have a fucking crematorium in your office?” Dom picked up the case again, hefting it in his hands. “And if we refuse?”
Stavros shrugged elegantly. “Then we have a standoff that ends poorly for everyone. You don’t leave, the protocol doesn’t leave, and your brother still dies.” He spread his hands. “I take no pleasure in this position, but I am quite immovable on this point.”
She didn’t see any options and hoped Dom had a plan, but when she met his gaze, she saw only resignation. He knew they were trapped.
“Open it,” she told Stavros. “Show us what we’re destroying first.”
Stavros considered her request, then nodded. “A reasonable precaution.” He motioned to the desk, and after a reluctant moment, Dom set the case down. He pulled it toward him and entered a code into the digital lock. The case opened with a soft hiss.
Inside, nestled in custom-cut foam, were three metallic cylinders, each about the size of a prescription bottle, glowing with a soft blue light. Beside them lay a small external hard drive and a thumb drive.
“The hardware and the software,” Stavros explained. “The cylinders contain the neural interface technology. The drives contain the mapping algorithms. Together, they form the complete protocol.”
Vivi stared at it, trying to understand how something so small could be worth Sabin’s life. Worth anyone’s life.
She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. Sabin had asked her to be smart, to be safe. This research, in Praetorian’s hands, would be neither. And maybe, just maybe, there was another way to save him.
“Do it,” she said.
Dom lifted the case and carried it to the furnace.
Stavros opened the heavy metal door, revealing the glowing interior.
Without hesitation, Dom tipped the contents into the fire—first the cylinders, which popped and hissed as they melted, then the drives, which gave off acrid smoke as they warped and bubbled.
Vivi watched it burn and felt all of her hope burning with it. She had no illusions anymore about how this would end.
When it was done, when nothing remained but twisted lumps of melted metal and plastic, Stavros closed the furnace door and turned to them. His smile returned, genuine this time.
“You’ve made the right choice,” he said. “For whatever comfort that may provide.”
“None,” Vivi said flatly.
Stavros inclined his head in acknowledgment. “I understand.” He gestured to the guards, who lowered their weapons and stepped aside. “You are, of course, free to go. Your account at Villa Pandora has been closed, effective immediately. I would ask that you not return.”
Dom handed him the empty case. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
They walked to the door, both tense, half-expecting Stavros to change his mind. But he simply watched them go, that same measured courtesy never leaving his face.
“Ms. Cavalier,” he called as they reached the threshold. She turned. “I hope you find a way to save your brother. Truly.”
She didn’t respond. There was nothing left to say.
They moved through the villa silently, past staff who averted their eyes, through the main hall with its priceless art, out the front doors to where their car waited. No one stopped them. No one spoke to them.
The Byzantine icon pressed against Vivi’s hip as she slid into the passenger seat—the only thing they’d taken from Villa Pandora. A small, sacred thing that had survived centuries of war and theft and destruction. A witness to history repeating itself, over and over.
Dom started the engine, his hands still shaking slightly, his clothes still damp. “Now what?” he asked as they drove away from the villa, through the gates, onto the narrow coastal road.
Vivi stared out at the sea, gleaming like hammered silver in the late afternoon sun. “Now,” she said, “we find another way to save Sabin. Whatever it takes.”
The icon felt heavy against her hip as Villa Pandora disappeared in the rearview mirror. It had survived. They had survived. And somehow, they would make sure Sabin did too.
Even if she had no idea how.