Amelia Vance (The Unknown Series)

Chapter 8

Someone Pov

The man's expression didn't change, but a hint of a smile touched his lips. "Amelia. I should have known. You always were… resourceful." He chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "Silas’s failure was an acceptable loss. A test, really. I wanted to see if the 'accident' had truly purged the weakness from your mind. It seems it has not. You still have a sentimental streak, a dangerous attachment to that journalist. A shame."

Leo's heart seized up. He felt Amelia's hand tighten on his.

The man’s voice dropped, and for the first time, a hint of steel entered his tone. "I am the one who gave you the Echo, Amelia. I am the one who molded you into what you were, and into what you will be again. They call me the Architect, but you know me as... a family friend." A long-forgotten name, a memory of a kind face from her childhood, flashed in Amelia’s mind, and the pieces of her past slotted into place with a terrifying finality. He was "Uncle Vance," her father's old business partner, the man who had always been there, watching, waiting. The man who had orphaned her.

"I am the one who will finish what I started," the Architect continued, his face filling the space between them. "And this time, I won't send a pawn to do my work. I'm coming for you, my dear. And you can't run from family."

The hologram flickered and died, leaving the apartment in a sudden, cold darkness. Amelia stood frozen, the silver ring clutched in her hand. She had won the battle, but she had just been told the war was far from over. And this time, she was fighting not just a ghost from her past, but the one who had created it. The true fight of her life was about to begin.

Amelia's victory over Silas was a hollow one. The moment the hologram of the Architect vanished, the adrenaline that had fueled her fight drained away, leaving her with the cold certainty that the real threat was just beginning. She had been a ghost, a puppet, and now she was a target. She knew exactly what she had to do. There was no time to mourn her lost past or savor the hard-won battle.

Her mind, now a perfect blend of the disciplined operative and the woman who loved Leo, went into overdrive. The apartment was a kill box, a digital breadcrumb leading directly to them.

She didn't hesitate. "We're leaving. Now."

Leo, still reeling from the events, stared at her. "What? Where would we even go? And what about... him?" he said, gesturing to Silas's groaning form.

"He's the least of our worries," she said, already moving. She grabbed a backpack and began stuffing it with the essentials: a few changes of clothes, a first-aid kit, and Leo's laptop. "The Architect is the one who took my life. He's not going to send more pawns. He's coming for us, or he's going to send someone who won't stop until we're both dead."