Chapter 8: The Second War
739 Words
The wedding was never supposed to be public.
Ari had planned it quietly—just her, Kellan, Rosa, Nova, and Jax in a hidden chapel in upstate Vermont, surrounded by mist and evergreens.
After Lucien’s fall, they all needed quiet. Healing. Breathing space.
But peace is a luxury the hunted rarely afford.
---
One week before the ceremony
Kellan stood outside the chapel in the rain, collar up, cigarette forgotten between his fingers. The wind whispered with a chill that crawled under his skin.
He’d felt eyes all day.
Jax approached from the shadows, wiping grease off his hands from tuning the truck. “You good?”
“No,” Kellan muttered. “Something’s off.”
Jax glanced around. “Still hearing footsteps that aren’t there?”
“I’m telling you, we’re being watched.”
“You’re always being watched. Comes with dating the most wanted woman in the country.”
Kellan tossed the cigarette. “Lucien had enemies. But allies, too. Deep ones.”
Jax’s face turned grim. “You think someone’s stepping into the power vacuum?”
Kellan nodded. “Someone worse.”
—
Three Days Before the Wedding
Rosa showed Ari a photo she’d found in an old encrypted folder Lucien had kept hidden even from his main servers.
A man.
Tall. Military. Face blurred. Name redacted.
“This,” Rosa whispered, “is who trained your father.”
Ari frowned. “What do you mean? He was self-made—”
“No,” Rosa said. “Lucien was a puppet. This man? He built the machine. Ran the projects. Ordered the hits. Even chose Damon for enforcement. Lucien was just the poster boy.”
“Who is he?”
Rosa’s fingers trembled. “Codename: Director Paragon.”
Nova, listening from the other room, went pale. “That name doesn’t exist in any government file.”
“Because it’s above them,” Rosa said. “Black operations. Unauthorized. Private syndicates that own nations.”
Kellan stepped in. “So taking down Lucien... wasn’t the end. It was the beginning.”
—
Wedding Day.
The chapel was draped in candlelight.
Ari stood in front of the mirror, white dress hugging her like poetry, her eyes soft but distant. The scar on her shoulder peeked through the lace—a reminder of where she’d come from. Of who she had become.
Nova zipped her dress. “You look dangerous.”
Ari smiled faintly. “Good. I’m done being prey.”
Downstairs, Jax paced while Kellan adjusted his cufflinks.
“I don't like this,” Jax muttered. “Too quiet.”
Kellan checked his sidearm.
He agreed.
—
The ceremony began.
Rosa gave Ari away.
Nova officiated—nervously, but with fire.
And when Kellan said I do, it was with a promise soaked in blood, smoke, and soft forgiveness.
They kissed.
The candles flickered.
And then—
BOOM.
The chapel shook.
Windows shattered.
Screams.
Gunfire.
The night burst open with soldiers in black—helmets, rifles, no insignia.
Nova tackled Ari as bullets tore through the pews. Kellan pulled his weapon and fired back, dragging her behind the altar.
Jax hurled a flashbang. Two men dropped.
“Who the hell are they?!” Ari screamed.
“Not mercs,” Kellan shouted. “Too coordinated.”
Rosa was pinned behind a column, returning fire. “They’re ghosts!”
Nova checked her phone. “They jammed the network. No signals. No tracking. They came to erase us.”
Then they heard it.
A voice, over a hidden speaker system that had been placed inside the chapel days earlier—beneath the floorboards, inside the walls.
Smooth. Deep. Commanding.
“You should have stayed in hiding.”
Ari froze.
“Who are you?” she shouted.
“You may call me Paragon.”
—
Ten Minutes Later.
The chapel burned.
The attackers vanished as suddenly as they’d arrived—leaving behind only the voice, the fire, and the promise.
“You dismantled a figurehead,” Paragon said. “But I? I am the hand behind the throne. The world isn’t saved. It’s mine to decide when it ends.”
Ari, bleeding from a cut on her forehead, stared at the flames consuming her wedding.
Kellan pulled her close.
“Now what?” he asked.
She looked at the fire. At the ruins. At the ashes of their attempt at normal.
Then she said:
“Now we go to war.”
—
- Writer
