Burning Hearts

Chapter Four

Fever is the quietest killer. It creeps in like panic, and by the time you notice, it’s already consuming you from the inside. The body tries to fight, but every heartbeat feels like a battle — drawn-out, dull, and merciless.

Andromeda’s fingers clutched at the sheets, her eyes half-closed, sweat glistening on her forehead. Her body trembled, but not from the cold. The wet clothes had been removed, and she was wrapped in a dry blanket, but the shaking didn’t stop.

The sudden cooling had helped break the spiral of a panic attack — but something else had broken in her too. The body was left defenseless. And now, the storm raged not only in her mind but in her bloodstream as well.

“She’s not okay,” the nurse said, sliding a thermometer under her arm. “Pupils dilated, breathing irregular.”

The doctor was already preparing the IV. Antibiotics, fluids, steroids. His movements were quick but not rushed — the hands of someone who knew exactly where the edge was, and how close they were to it.

“We’re not going to lose her,” he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else. “But this isn’t just physical. Her central nervous system is overwhelmed — the shock, the confinement, the blow... all at once.”

Tobias stood by the door, arms crossed. His eyes were fixed on the girl, but the usual hardness had dulled. After the ice-cold shower that morning, he couldn’t look at her the same. The image kept creeping back — that expression, that raw terror no one could fake or be trained to show. The thermometer beeped.

“Forty degrees. And rising.”

The woman whimpered. Her voice was faint, like wind brushing through an abandoned house. She pushed the blanket away, then pulled it back over herself. Her body couldn’t decide if it was freezing or burning.

Then came the first fever dream.

The images flickered. It was as if Andromeda were trapped between two worlds.

First, she saw her office. The screen, the drawings. Elijah’s voice: “You know if you screw this up, we lose everything.” Then the door burst open again. The two men. The hand that grabbed her. The pain.

Then… she was home. Elliot was crying. She was protecting him, like when they were kids. “Don’t hurt my brother!” she screamed, but no one heard.

The scenes bled into one another. As if the same shadow stood in every background. The same man. Dark suit, darker eyes. Lucian Thornewell.

The man who remained silent while she cried. Who only watched. And let it happen.

The doctor worked quietly but firmly. They wiped her down again with damp cloths, checked her blood pressure, her oxygen levels. But nothing changed. And then… the door opened. Lucian entered.

The doctor didn’t even pause, just nodded. Tobias stepped back, but their eyes met.

Lucian slowly scanned the room, then stopped at Andromeda. She didn’t react to his presence. Her mouth was slightly parted, her forehead still beaded with sweat. The IV dripped like a metronome, impatiently measuring time.

“What’s happening?” Lucian asked quietly, but his voice vibrated with cold tension.

“Her body reacted. Badly. The trauma, the cooling, the fever. She’s delirious now, but not comatose,” the doctor replied. “Such extreme reactions are not unusual after a panic attack. But she was treated in time.”

The twenty-minute cold shower caused the fever. But she’s alive.

Lucian’s gaze swept over the body under the blanket. His eyebrow twitched, barely.

“The basement… is not suitable for women,” he said dryly. Tobias remained silent.

Lucian walked around the room, stopping on the far side, staring at the wall as if trying to sort his thoughts there. Then, without hesitation, he spoke sharply:

“The third guest room. The one in the corner. That’s her cell now.”

Tobias raised an eyebrow.

“Windows?”

“Bar them. Keep the light. Wire the wall, camera in the ceiling. It’s done in an hour, and she’s moved there.”

“And the furniture?”

Lucian glanced at the girl.

“A bed, a chair, a desk. No luxury. But don’t make it look like a prison either.”

Tobias nodded.

“Understood. I’ll need an hour.”

“You get fifty minutes.”

Lucian looked at her one last time. There was no judgment in his eyes. Just something hard, sealed off. And yet… his lips tightened ever so slightly. Then he walked out.

And Andromeda, hovering at the edge of consciousness, fell into another dream. But for the first time… there was light in it.

---

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Exactly fifty minutes passed. No more, no less. The mansion’s third guest room — once a warm, mahogany-clad retreat — had become a sterile, silent prison. Behind the thick curtains, barred windows. But the light remained. A nearly invisible camera was embedded in the ceiling, security wiring ran through the walls, the furniture stripped to the minimum: a bed, a chair, a desk. The carpet was removed. Every movement echoed across the bare floor.

Andromeda lay in the center of the room. Her body covered by a soft blanket, wet hair clinging to the pillow. The doctors had completed basic treatment. The fever had eased slightly but was still dangerously high. The IV stand stood quietly beside her, dripping life into her arm. She hadn’t woken up.

Lucian Thornewell stood beyond the door, in the adjoining study. The air was stale, the fireplace cold, but he didn’t move. Tobias stood beside him, tense, clutching a folder that contained the girl’s medical reports. The text was clear, concise, clinical. But there was nothing in it Lucian hadn’t already seen with his own eyes.

“This wasn’t the plan,” Tobias said finally, breaking the silence. His voice wasn’t defensive anymore — the sarcasm from before had faded.

Lucian leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. The dark shirt stretched over his frame, his gaze fixed into the void.

“I wanted a Carter kid. Someone dangerous. Someone we could intimidate. Then… we’d negotiate.”

“Instead, you got a broken woman who panics in confined spaces,” Tobias tilted his head. “Doesn’t sound like a fair trade.”

Lucian slowly turned his head.

“She’s not fragile,” he said quietly. “Not like that. What you see isn’t weakness. The body... yes, it’s unstable. But the will — that’s not something you can just pull out of her.”

“Will?” Tobias raised an eyebrow. “Two hours ago, she was on the floor barely breathing. Now she’s lying half-conscious in a locked guest room. I think any doctor would say this isn’t resistance. It’s trauma.”

Lucian’s eyes flashed.

“No. This is something deeper. Her father, her brothers, the business world she grew up in… she comes from a place where a woman has to be perfect while no one listens when she screams for help. This isn’t new to her. This... is familiar.”

Tobias shrugged.

“And what difference does it make? Right now, she’s useless. Her brother vanished. No deal, no intel, no leverage. She’s just suffering. And you… you’re just watching. Doing nothing.”

Lucian didn’t answer immediately.

But then, as if a new sound broke their exchange, a faint moan echoed through the wall. Distorted, but sharp enough. Andromeda wasn’t asleep.

Lucian moved for the door in a single motion, Tobias on his heels. The door creaked open, light spilling into the room.

The sight wasn’t new — but it felt different.

The girl’s body twitched, her face flushed with fever. Sweat gleamed again on her forehead. The whimper escaped her lips like a scream trapped in a dream. Her hands were clasped tightly against her chest, her legs pulled up in a spasm. The body reacted with small jolts to some inner storm.

“I can’t breathe…” she murmured, not fully awake. “Don’t… don’t lock me in… please… Ellie…”

Lucian didn’t move. He had never heard her voice like this. Not cold, not defiant. Just pure fear.

The IV line pulled tight as her arm shifted. The machine beeped. Tobias stepped over, adjusting the needle. A nurse appeared silently in the background.

“This is fever-dream territory. But it’s intense. She doesn’t know where she is — her memories are distorting.”

Lucian leaned down at the edge of her bed. He got close — but didn’t touch. He just watched, the way her lashes fluttered, the way her lips moved without sound.

“Tobias.”

“Yes?”

“Increase monitoring. Every sound, every movement, sleep pattern, body temperature. Log every minute.”

Tobias nodded as the nurse placed a new thermometer under her arm.

Lucian kept watching. He asked nothing. Gave no orders. Just stood there — like someone watching a person they should understand… but don’t. Not yet. Then he spoke.

“When she wakes… don’t tell her anything about me. For now, just… observe. And wait.”

Then he quietly left the room. But his gaze stayed behind.

Like a shadow that never sleeps.

Lucian Thornewell closed the door behind him without a sound. The woman’s moans, the fever’s tremors still echoed in his ears, but his footsteps were now steady, his posture once again hard and composed. He returned to the study. The only room in the mansion without a camera. This was where he thought. Where he planned. Where he drew the lines of others’ lives.

Leaning over the desk, he typed in rapid, mechanical motions. His fingers flew over the keyboard, opening his private intelligence network — a closed database worth more than any official registry.

Andromeda Carter.

The name pulsed cold on the screen.

Click.

Nothing. At least, nothing substantial. One business registry: Carter Technologies – Shareholders. The twins: Elijah and Elliot. Mother deceased, father living in seclusion in a countryside estate. But Andromeda… was just a name in the structure. No photo. No press. No event appearances. Not even a LinkedIn profile. As if she deliberately stayed in the background.

Lucian frowned. He dove into deeper systems — those already skirting legal grey zones. Travel documents, bank transactions, private correspondence. Elijah — the perfect heir. Elliot — reckless, under pressure. But Andromeda?

She almost didn’t exist.

Her bank activity was minimal. Cash purchases, anonymous cards. Even her address was obscured — a downtown studio rented through a separate company. No social media, no news, no pictures. Lucian leaned back in his chair. His eyes stayed on the screen, but his mind moved further ahead.

Something was off.

A woman raised in a family like that, in those circles, can’t be that invisible.

Or… she chooses to be.

He opened a new window and typed: Andromeda Carter – academic, patent, engineering records.

Finally, something. A few technical papers, prototypes, industrial design specs. A handful of studies, all co-authored. Never the lead. But her name was there — in small letters, in the background. Like a signature. Like someone who works but never asks for recognition.

Lucian’s lips tightened. He turned from the screen and pressed the comm button.

“Tobias. My office. Now.”

A few minutes later, Tobias entered. His face looked tired, his shirt wrinkled, but his eyes were still sharp.

“So? What did you find?” he asked, not bothering to sit.

Lucian slowly turned toward him.

“Nothing,” he said. “And that’s the problem.”

“Nothing?”

“There’s nothing on her. No photos, no interviews, no public life. She doesn’t socialize, doesn’t attend events. She doesn’t take part in corporate strategy. Her traces exist, but only in a professional capacity. It’s like she’s deliberately… hiding from the world.”

Tobias shrugged.

“And why is that a problem?”

Lucian stood.

“Because if she’s invisible… then Elliot doesn’t care. If the world doesn’t know she’s important… no one’s pressured. Elliot doesn’t search. Doesn’t deal. Doesn’t beg.”

Tobias was quiet for a moment.

“You’re suggesting… he might not even be in contact with her? Or doesn’t care?”

Lucian’s gaze hardened.

“I’m saying we might have picked the wrong person.”

Tobias was genuinely taken aback. This wasn’t typical Lucian. Not the doubt. Not the self-reflection.

“Does that mean…?”

“It means nothing. Yet.” Lucian sat back down, but didn’t look at the screen. “Just that we need to rethink our tools.”

Tobias nodded slowly.

“And what about her? She’s lying there, half-conscious, in a reinforced room. What do we tell her when she wakes up?”

Lucian was silent for a long time. Then he said, quietly:

“Keep watching. But now, not to break her.

To understand what this woman is hiding so well.”

Because anyone who can hide from the world this well… knows something very, very well.