Built from Ashes

Chapter 11: The Island Fortress

The armored transport tore through the churning salt spray, its hydro-foils skipping across the dark, turbulent waters of the outer bay. Ahead, rising abruptly from the abyss like a jagged tooth of black iron and reinforced concrete, stood the island estate—Dante’s ancestral stronghold.

High-voltage perimeter grids crackled with blue electricity along the cliffs, casting an eerie, strobe-like glow across the crashing waves.

Inside the cabin, the rhythmic hum of the engine vibrated through the floorboards. Elena sat rigidly on the leather bench, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees as she stared out the reinforced window at the looming fortress.

Elena

(Without turning her head, her voice clipped with cold exhaustion)

You brought me to a prison. You didn't save me from the syndicate, Dante—you just transferred me to a cell with a better view.

Dante Vance

(Sitting opposite her, his dark eyes unwavering as he whetted the edge of a tactical blade with a small, flat stone)

A prison keeps people out, Elena. This island keeps you alive. Every traitor sitting on my council would trade their soul for the data currently mapped across your neural pathways. Down in the city, you wouldn't have lasted forty-eight hours.

Elena

(Snapping her head around, her dark eyes flashing with sudden, sharp fury)

And what am I supposed to do here? Sit in a gilded cage while you play god with your little army? I didn't ask for Julian’s ledger. I didn't ask to be hacked, hunted, or dragged into your bloody family war!

Dante Vance

(Stopping his hand mid-stroke, the metallic scrape dying instantly as he meets her furious gaze)

Neither did Julian. But he chose you. Out of all the compliant, easily manipulated assets in the lower district, my brother chose a woman with enough fire to stand up to a syndicate boss. If you want to survive what’s coming, you better learn to use that fire instead of wasting it on me.

Before Elena could hurl a biting retort back at him, the transport slammed hard against the subterranean docking bay, throwing up a cloud of white foam as the heavy magnetic locks engaged with a bone-jarring thud.