Chapter Seven
997 Words
Amelia stood by her window, watching the Marseille lights pulse like a dying fever. It's been three days of being treated like a nuisance to be filed away.
“Mel, you’re vibrating,” Clara said, her voice a silky-wrapped blade. She leaned against the doorframe, swirling a glass of wine with practiced ease. “You look like you have not closed your eyes since the Republic fell.”
“They pulled the heating today, Clara.” Amelia turned, her face a pale mask of exhaustion. The ink on her fingertips looked like fresh bruises. “The kids are wearing coats in class. It’s not a drawback anymore. It is a slow-motion execution.”
Clara took a slow, deliberate sip, savoring the sharp tang of triumph. She was excited by this, seeing the saint of Bonifacio wild with anxiety.
“Mel, I told you,” Clara whispered. “This people don't play by the rules of the living. You saved a man once and look where it got you. You are alone and struggling, raising a child in a city that wants to swallow you whole. Sign the waiver. Take the crumbs they offer and protect Lila.”
"I can't teach Lila to be a coward," Amelia snapped.
Clara smoothed her skirt, her heart hammering with a secret, jagged joy. She had already whispered to the district foreman that Amelia was unstable, ensuring the pressure wouldn’t lift. She wanted Amelia broken, realizing that she was pushing her straight into the mouth of the wolf.
The next morning, the sun rose over Marseille with a sharp, blinding glare.
Amelia walked to the school to find the gates chained. A Closed for Maintenance sign hung like a death warrant. That was the end of her patience. She didn't have a weapon, only a folder of student records and the blazing rage of a woman with nothing left to lose.
She slipped through the V Lord’s loading bay, mapping the guards' movements like a lesson plan. She reached the executive elevator, her hand trembling as she hit the button.
Ding.
The doors opened to Rino standing at the end of the hall, his eyes wide. “Miss Hart? How the hell…”
“I am here to see the man who thinks he owns the air my students breathe," she hissed, shoving past him.
“Amelia, wait,” Rino said, his voice strangely hollow. “The man you’re looking for... he doesn’t exist anymore.”
She couldn't even care to listen. She threw open the heavy obsidian doors.
The office smelled of cold rain and expensive scotch. A high-backed chair was turned toward the window.
“I won't sign it,” Amelia shouted, slamming the folder onto the desk. Papers scattered all over the black floor. “You can chain the gates, but I will sit on those steps every morning until the city sees the coward who bullies children from behind a desk!”
The chair rotated slowly.
Amelia’s heart stopped. The man sitting there was draped in charcoal wool that cost more than her life, his face a landscape of hard angles. Seeing him there was not something she had thought of, not even in her wildest dream.
“Adrian?” she whispered, surprised, the name feeling like a sin.
Voss stood. He didn’t make any attempt to move towards her; he just leaned over the desk, the light catching the gold signet ring on his finger, the same ring she had sold to keep him alive.
“My name is Voss,” he said, his voice a low, terrifying rasp. “And you’re late.”
He walked around the desk, his presence filling the room until the air felt heavy as lead. He stopped inches from her, his gaze raking over her tired face.
“I spent six years wondering what I would say to the woman who sold my life for a stack of cash,” he hissed, gripping her chin, forcing her to look at the monster he had become. "I thought I would want to hear you scream. But looking at you now? You just look... cheap.”
Amelia’s hand flew up. A sharp c***k echoed as her palm met his cheek.
Voss didn't flinch. He slowly turned his face back to her, a dark, predatory smile tugging at his mouth. “Hmmmm, feisty…but is that all you’ve got?”
Before she could breathe, the desk phone buzzed. Rino’s voice came through, sounding strained. "Voss, we have a problem. A woman is downstairs. She’s causing a scene, claiming Hart is a security risk. She brought a kid. The girl... she ran past the sensors. She’s in the express elevator.”
Amelia’s blood turned to ice, her eyes widening in pure terror. “Adrian, no. Stop the elevator!”
Voss narrowed his eyes at her panic. “What are they talking about? What child?”
The private elevator at the back of the office chimed.
The doors slid open.
A girl with dark, wild curls stepped out into the shadows. She stood in the periphery, a small silhouette against the blinding light of the hallway.
“Mama?” the girl called out, her voice small and curious. “Is this where the mean man lives?”
Voss let go of Amelia’s chin, his gaze snapping toward the child. He couldn't see her face clearly through the haze of the office lights, only the wild tangle of hair and the defiant way she stood. The sound of that voice sent a shiver through his soul.
“Amelia,” Voss whispered, his voice no longer a rasp but the broken remains of a man. “Who is that?”
Amelia stepped in front of him, shielding the girl with her body, her eyes burning with a desperate, final defiance. “That’s not your business.”
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