The Corridor
Emily Cronus was marching, her heels clicking a furious, staccato rhythm on the stone floor of the West Wing. The sound echoed down the empty corridor, a lonely percussion in the silent school. She held a tactical radio in one hand, her knuckles white, and her new black pistol in the other, the weight of it heavy and cold against her palm. She felt like a ghost haunting her own home. The princess persona she wore felt like a costume that was shrinking, suffocating her. "Sasha," she snapped into the comms, her voice tight. "Status on the lower levels? I'm getting interference." "Sensors are offline, Ma'am," Sasha's voice crackled back, distorted by static. "We have a seismic anomaly in Sector Zero. The structural integrity monitors are spiking. Possible foundation failure or water table shift."
"It's not structural," Emily hissed, cutting the connection. "It's an intrusion."
Margot had found her five minutes ago in the faculty lounge, pale and shaking, clutching a mop bucket as cover. The girl had claimed she heard "drilling" near the old boiler room—a sound like metal eating stone. Margot was a nervous wreck, a rabbit in a den of wolves, but she wasn't a liar. She didn't have the imagination for it.
Emily reached the heavy iron door that led to the sub-basement stairwell. It was a service entrance, usually ignored. She keyed the code into the panel.
Beep-beep-beep.
It didn't open. The keypad was dead, the small LCD screen blank.
"Damn it," she cursed, kicking the door. She raised her gun, aiming at the electronic lock.
"That won't work," a voice said from the shadows. "It's a magnetic seal, energized from the inside. Shooting it just fuses the plates. You'll seal it forever."
Emily spun around, aiming the gun instantly, her heart leaping into her throat.
Eiden stood there, leaning casually against a row of lockers. He wore his heavy grey cloak, the hood down, his hands raised in mock surrender. He looked tired, bruises fading on his face, but his eyes were sharp.
"You," Emily whispered, the betrayal burning fresh in her chest. Her finger tightened on the trigger, taking up the slack. "You did this. You disabled the sensors. You're trying to break in."
"I didn't," Eiden said calmly, not flinching at the gun pointed at his chest. "But I know who did. And if you shoot me, they get away with the gold. And your father's legacy sinks to the bottom of the ocean."
"What gold?"
"The gold you saw," Eiden said, stepping away from the lockers. "The gold your father stole. Someone else wants it, Emily. And they're not asking nicely. They're drilling through the sea wall right now."
Emily stared at him. She wanted to kill him. She wanted to finish what she started on the ship, to end the confusion that plagued her every time she saw his face. But she heard it now—a low, grinding vibration coming from deep below, vibrating through the soles of her shoes. Drilling.
"Get out of my way," she said, her voice wavering.
"I can open the door," Eiden said, stepping forward, his hands still raised. "But I come with you."
"I don't need a traitor backing me up."
"You need a Wolf," Eiden corrected, lowering his hands slowly. "There's a squad of heavy lifters down there. Breaching equipment. Mercenaries. You have a pistol and a badge. I have a knife and a lifetime of war. Together, we stop them. Alone, you die in the dark."
He looked her in the eye, seeing past the anger to the fear beneath.
"Do you want to save your father's legacy, or do you want to shoot me? You can't do both."
Emily lowered the gun an inch. It was the hardest thing she had ever done. Every instinct screamed at her to fire, to end the threat, but the logic—the cold, Cronus logic—told her he was right.
"Open it," she commanded, stepping back. "But if you try anything... if you even twitch wrong... I won't miss."
"I know," Eiden said.
He pulled out a small electronic jammer Harry had built—a messy box of wires and battery packs—and pressed it against the keypad. He triggered a pulse.
The light turned green. The magnetic lock disengaged with a heavy thunk. The door clicked open.
Eiden pushed it wide and bowed mockingly.
"After you, Princess."
The Water Lock
They descended into the dark. The air grew colder, wetter with every step. The smell of the sea was strong here—too strong for a basement. It was the smell of brine and seaweed, carrying a chill that seeped into their bones. The outer seal had definitely been breached.
They reached the Water Lock—the massive, cylindrical chamber where they had almost drowned weeks ago.
The room was active. It was a construction site of theft.
Portable halogen floodlights lit up the damp space, casting harsh, long shadows. A massive, jagged hole had been cut into the outer concrete wall, revealing the dark, churning water of the sea cave beyond. The spray from the ocean misted the room.
A dark, sleek submersible barge was docked in the hole, bobbing in the swell.
Men in wet suits and tactical gear were moving crates—heavy, reinforced crates marked with the Cronus logo—from the vault antechamber onto the barge. They moved with professional efficiency, a bucket brigade of theft.
"Thieves," Emily hissed, ducking behind the railing of the observation platform. She raised her gun.
"Wait," Eiden whispered, grabbing her wrist to stop her from firing. "Look who's leading them."
Standing by the breach, shouting orders over the sound of the waves and the grinding machinery, was a small man in an expensive camel-hair coat that was getting ruined by the sea spray. He wore too many gold rings, which glinted under the floodlights.
Silas Rook. And behind him, a group of Shadow Guards
"Rook? And Shadows?" Emily gasped, her face going pale. The memory of the silk room and the threats came rushing back. "That's... that's the man from the mansion. The one who kidnapped me. The one who wanted to marry me."
"The Syndicate," Eiden realized.
"He said my father betrayed him," Emily whispered, her hand shaking in Eiden's grip. "He said he was coming back for his 'payment.' He's not just a thief, Eiden. He's a monster. He wants to destroy us. But why are the shadows helping him?"
"First, let's put him down." Eiden said, his voice hard.
Emily couldn't hold back. The rage at seeing her tormentor in her home, stealing her father's work, boiled over. She stepped out onto the metal walkway, into the light.
"ROOK!" she shouted, her voice echoing over the roar of the water.
The Goblin spun around. The workers froze, hands dropping to the submachine guns slung across their chests.
Rook saw Emily. He didn't look scared. He looked annoyed, like a man interrupted during dinner.
"Ah," Rook sighed, adjusting his wet lapels. "The Princess. I wondered when you'd show up. And..." He saw Eiden step out of the shadows, knife in hand. "The Wolf. I knew you were too stubborn to die. Akuma really needs to hire better assassins."
"Get away from that vault!" Emily demanded, walking down the stairs, gun trained steadily on Rook's chest. "That is my father's property. You are trespassing."
Rook laughed. It was a wet, hacking sound that turned into a cough.
"Trespassing?" Rook shook his head, amused. "No, my dear. I am collecting. Your father owes me a debt. A blood debt and a financial one. Since he refused to pay with an army... I am taking the collateral."
"My father owes you nothing!" Emily yelled. "He's a patriot! He fought for this country! He built this school to protect the future!"
"Patriot?" Rook cackled, gesturing wildly to the gold bars stacked on a pallet. "Look at the stamps, girl! Open your eyes! Look at them!"
He picked up a heavy bar and threw it at her feet. It landed with a heavy, solid thud, chipping the concrete.
Emily looked down.
Stamped into the soft gold was the Royal Crest of England. The Lion and the Unicorn. And the date: 1940.
"That is the Bank of England's reserve," Rook sneered. "Your father didn't mine this. He stole it. It was Operation Fish. The entire liquid wealth of the British Empire, sent to Canada for safekeeping against the Nazis. Your father intercepted the shipments. He stole from the Crown to build his own little kingdom."
Emily stared at the bar. The world tilted on its axis. Patriot. Thief. Hero. Monster. The labels swirled in her head.
"No," she whispered. "He... he wouldn't. He loves this country."
"He's a traitor, Emily," Eiden said softly from beside her, seeing the devastation on her face. "He's not protecting the world. He's robbing it while it burns."
"Shut up!" Emily screamed, spinning to point the gun at Eiden, then whipping it back to Rook. "You're both liars! You're all liars!"
"Believe what you want," Rook said, checking his diamond-encrusted watch. "But I'm taking my share. Boys... kill the boy and secure Emily. We're behind schedule."
The mercenaries raised their rifles.
"Cover!" Eiden roared.
He tackled Emily, driving her behind a stack of steel crates just as the room exploded with gunfire.
Bullets sparked off the metal floor, whining through the air. The noise was deafening, amplified by the acoustics of the chamber.
"They're shooting at me!" Emily cried, shocked, huddled against Eiden's chest. "I'm a Cronus! They work for us!"
"To them, you're just a loose end," Eiden said, peeking over the crate as chips of concrete rained down on them. "We need to close the breach. We can't fight them all."
"The valves?" Emily asked, remembering their last time here, the water rising.
"No," Eiden said. "The pressure door. If we blow the hydraulics on the main blast door, it slams shut. It seals the vault and traps them in the cave side."
"How?"
Eiden pulled a grenade from his belt—stolen from the armory supplies.
"I need you to cover me. I have to get to the control panel on the far wall."
He looked at her, gripping her shoulder.
"Can you shoot? Or are you going to cry about your father?"
Emily looked at the gold bar lying in the open, scarred by a bullet. She looked at Rook, who was laughing as his men fired, directing the theft of her family's name.
Her face hardened. The sadness vanished, replaced by the Cold Princess.
"Go," she said, racking the slide of her pistol. "I'll make them keep their heads down."
She stood up and fired. Crack-crack-crack.
Three shots. Three hits. A mercenary went down, clutching his shoulder. Rook yelped and ducked behind the barge.
Eiden moved.
He sprinted across the open ground, a zig-zag pattern as bullets chewed up the concrete at his heels. He slid under a steam pipe, vaulted a railing, and reached the control panel.
He pulled the pin on the grenade and jammed it into the exposed wiring of the hydraulic pump.
"FIRE IN THE HOLE!"
He dove into the water of the drainage pool.
BOOM.
The panel exploded in a shower of sparks and oil. The hydraulics failed instantly.
With a groan of tortured metal that sounded like a dying whale, the massive blast door above them slammed down, cutting off the path to the vault.
Rook screamed in frustration. "GO! GO! BEFORE THE CEILING COMES DOWN! LEAVE THE REST!"
The mercenaries scrambled onto the barge, abandoning half the crates. Rook jumped on last, glaring at Emily with pure venom.
"Ask him!" Rook shouted over the roaring engines of the sub. "Ask your father about the gold! Ask him who he's selling it to!"
The submersible revved its engines and dove, disappearing into the dark water of the sea cave, leaving only a wake of foam.
Silence returned to the Water Lock, broken only by the dripping of water and the hiss of the destroyed hydraulics.
Eiden climbed out of the pool, dripping wet.
Emily stood alone in the center of the room. She was staring at the gold bar on the floor.
She didn't pick it up. She kicked it.
It skittered across the floor and fell into the water with a plop.
She turned to Eiden. Her eyes were empty.
"He's selling it?" she whispered. "To who?"
Eiden hesitated. He knew the answer Hazel had found. It was the final nail in the coffin.
"To the Nazis," Eiden said. "He's funding the enemy."
Emily didn't scream. She didn't cry. She just nodded, as if she had expected the worst all along.