chapter 6
1270 Words
chapter 6
Morning light filtered through the tall glass panels of the palace, turning the silver walls of Kish and Exodus’s chamber into sheets of pale gold.
Exodus slept on his side, one arm flung across the bed, his face softer than it ever appeared in the council halls. Beside him lay Kish—forty, graceful, her blond Marsian hair spilling across the pillow like spun sunlight. Even in sleep, there was something gentle about her, a quiet strength that had steadied Exodus more times than anyone knew. Cousin to him. Sister to Ice. A thread binding two powerful bloodlines together.
The sharp trill of a cellphone shattered the stillness.
Exodus’s eyes snapped open.
For a split second, he looked disoriented—then alert, tense, already bracing for trouble. He grabbed the device from the bedside table.
“What!” he barked, voice rough with sleep and irritation.
Kish stirred but didn’t wake fully. Exodus listened, jaw tightening with every word coming through the line.
“Okay…” he said, swinging his legs off the bed. “I said okay!”
He ended the call and stood in one fluid motion. Whatever softness sleep had given him vanished. He snatched a robe from the chair, shrugging into it as he moved. His gaze flicked toward the wall-mounted screen that had been left running through the night. Without hesitation, he yanked the cable from the socket, killing the feed.
No delays. No witnesses.
He was already out the door.
Across the palace, behind a half-closed door, Peter fought his own private battle.
Getting out of bed felt like lifting stone. His breath came shallow as he pushed himself upright, teeth clenched against the wave of pain that followed. His hand trembled as he pulled his shirt away from his upper arm.
A thick bandage wrapped his bicep. A dull green stain had spread through the fabric.
Peter swallowed hard.
Carefully, he peeled the old bandage away, wincing as the movement tugged at the wound beneath. He worked fast, replacing it with a fresh wrap, his fingers clumsy but determined. He had almost finished when the door handle clicked.
His head jerked up.
In a rush, he dropped the stained bandage onto the bedside table and slammed a book over it just as the door opened.
He forced himself to sit straighter, though his vision swam.
A moment later, Exodus stepped into the room.
He took one look at Peter and stopped.
“I don’t believe it,” he said quietly.
Peter’s throat went dry. “I… don’t understand.”
Exodus’s eyes swept the room, sharp and assessing. “I do hope you know more than following Ice around. Our security has been helpless.”
Each word landed like a weight.
Peter blinked, trying to focus, trying to look normal. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
“Isn’t it your job to understand the security of Omega?” Exodus shot back.
Peter opened his mouth, but the room tilted slightly. He gripped the edge of the mattress to steady himself.
Exodus’s expression shifted. The anger didn’t vanish, but something else crept in—calculation.
“Peter,” he said, voice lowering, “you don’t look too well. Are you ill?”
Peter hesitated. Lying felt impossible under that stare.
“I feel very ill,” he admitted.
Exodus studied him for one long second, then turned toward the door. “I will call Sam.”
He didn’t wait for a response. He strode out, robe swaying behind him, already moving on to the next problem.
Peter sagged the moment he was alone again, his hand drifting unconsciously to his bandaged arm, the hidden stain beneath the book seeming to burn hotter by the second.
Exodus did not knock when he entered Alex’s room. The curtains were still drawn, dimming the afternoon light into a dull gray that matched the heaviness in the air. Alex lay sprawled across his bed, one arm hanging off the side, lost in the kind of deep sleep that comes from exhaustion rather than rest.
Exodus crossed the room in sharp strides and grabbed his shoulder, shaking him hard.
Alex jolted awake. “What!”
His eyes focused—and then widened.
“Father!”
He pushed himself upright, hair disheveled, heart still racing from being dragged out of sleep so abruptly.
Exodus stood over him, fury burning behind his eyes. “You are a disgrace.”
Alex blinked, still foggy. “If it’s about the car, I’ll have it fixed.”
“What are you talking about?”
Without another word, Exodus snatched the remote from the bedside table and turned on the large wall screen.
The image that filled the room wiped the sleep from Alex instantly.
Wrecked cargo trucks littered a highway. Twisted metal. Scattered produce. Emergency lights flashing red and blue across the dark pavement. Bodies—covered in black bags—were being carried away by paramedics.
A reporter stood at the scene, wind tugging at her hair, the destruction behind her. The chyron read:
SANDRA KEEN
OMEGA NATIONAL NEWS (ONN)
“The question everyone has been asking,” she said into the camera, voice tight with urgency, “is what happened? The police do not seem to be helpful. Alex, the chief of police, is nowhere to be found—oh, here is Frank Allen…”
The camera shifted to Detective Frank Allen, sharply dressed even in the chaos, directing officers near the wreckage.
“Detective, what can you tell us about this senseless crime?” Sandra asked, keeping pace beside him.
“Whoever did this will be found and punished,” Frank said firmly. “Omega has no room for evil.”
“Do you have clues—?”
“Give us the chance to work.”
He walked off. Sandra turned back to the camera.
“There you have it, viewers. Frank Allen said it: ‘There is no room for evil in Omega.’ The police will find whoever did this.”
The screen went black as Exodus turned off the TV.
Alex stared at his reflection in the dark display, his voice small. “No one called me… Who would do that?”
Exodus grabbed Alex’s phone from the bedside table, scrolled, then hurled it at him. It hit Alex’s chest and fell onto the bed.
“You have many missed calls. I suppose from last night. Do you want Cleopas’ son to get your job?”
Alex rubbed his face, anger and shame mixing. “I would be glad to retire after eighty years of this preposterous job. Frank can take it for another thirty years or so. He’ll age and die like all humans do—”
“Shut up!” Exodus thundered. “Your incompetence has cost us tons of yields.”
Alex looked back at the blank screen, as if the nightmare might replay. “This must be a dream. Something like this has never happened.”
“This is all Philip.”
“Philip is in jail.”
“It must be his followers. I warned Ice, but as usual, he thinks he knows it all.”
Alex hesitated. “What does Uncle think about this?”
Exodus’ jaw tightened. “He wasn’t in his room.”
A flicker of mischief crossed Alex’s still-shaken face. “He must be entertaining the beauty I saw yesterday.”
Exodus turned sharply. “What?”
“He and Peter brought a woman with them.”
The anger on Exodus’ face shifted—just slightly—into something colder, more calculating.
And far more dangerous.
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