Chapter 7
Before Evander could give the final order to move out, the heavy steel door to the security center chimed sharply. A guard stepped inside, looking pale and deeply uncomfortable.
"What is it, Marcus?" Evander asked, not taking his eyes off the thermal imaging displayed on the main monitor.
"It’s Marceline, sir," the guard said, swallowing hard. "She’s screaming in the holding cell. She says she has a failsafe. She says if you breach that boat without her, Graham will detonate the lower cabin."
A suffocating, heavy silence fell over the command center. The mechanical hum of the servers suddenly sounded deafening. Daisy pressed her hand to her mouth in sheer horror, her delicate cheekbones pale in the ghostly blue light of the monitors.
"Did you verify this claim?" Evander asked his tech lead, his tone perfectly even.
The technician frantically typed. "Scanning the radio frequencies near the Marina’s Grace... Sir, there is a localized, highly encrypted dead-man's switch on board. It’s tied to Graham's biometric signature. If his pulse stops, or if he manually triggers it, it will blow the hull."
Evander stood completely still. The tailored fit of his dark three-piece suit seemed to emphasize the rigid, unyielding tension coiling in his muscles. His family signet ring clicked faintly against the metal desk as he tapped his index finger exactly once.
"Daisy, will you come with me to the cellar?" Evander asked, turning away from the glowing monitors.
Daisy hesitated for a fraction of a second. She had no desire to see Marceline locked in a cage, nor did she want to be dragged any deeper into the violent, terrifying mechanics of Evander's world. But she thought of the small thermal blip on the screen—a terrified six-year-old boy sitting directly over a bomb.
"Yes, sir," Daisy replied steadily, falling respectfully into step behind him.
The cellar was freezing, lined with damp stone walls and thick iron bars. Marceline was gripping the bars of her cell, her beautiful garnet gown entirely ruined, covered in dust and her own tears. When she saw Evander approach, a desperate, almost hysterical smile broke across her face.
"I told you," Marceline gasped, her diamond earrings shaking as she breathed heavily. "You need me, Evander. Graham trusts me. If I call him and tell him the coast is clear, he’ll disarm the switch to move the boy. That’s your only window."
Evander stood just inches from the iron bars, his hands resting casually in his pockets. His posture was deeply relaxed, a terrifying contrast to the life-or-death situation.
"What do you want in exchange for this phone call, Marceline?" Evander asked, his voice low and incredibly smooth.
"My life," Marceline demanded, her voice trembling but fiercely defiant. "A car to the airport, a fully fueled jet, and ten million dollars transferred to my offshore account. I make the call from the plane. You get your son, I get my freedom."
Evander looked at her for a long, quiet moment. He then turned his head slightly to look at Daisy, who was standing a few feet away, her arms crossed defensively over her white apron.
"Daisy, do you believe my fiancée can be trusted to make this call?" Evander asked.
Marceline glared at the maid with absolute venom. "Don't ask the help! This is my life and your son's life! Deal with me, Evander!"
May you like
"Will you answer my question, Daisy?" Evander asked, ignoring Marceline entirely.
Daisy met Marceline’s furious gaze, then looked up directly into Evander’s cold eyes. "No, sir. She lied to you about his death. She will lie to you about the bomb."
