Ashes Of The Hidden Heir

The False Bloodline

CHAPTER FOUR

The underground chamber was swallowed in darkness. Kael gripped the iron bars of the cage and pulled with all his strength. The metal groaned but did not give. He fired again at the lock, the bullet spanged off hardened steel and ricocheted off the stone wall.

"Damn it!" His voice echoed through the chamber. The masked man had disappeared. So had Lena.

Kael made himself stop. Panicking wouldn't get him out of this. It wouldn't bring Lena back. He drew a long breath and glanced about the room. The cage looked new, with fresh weld marks at the corners and tire tracks on the concrete floor under it. This wasn’t a place abandoned for decades, as the cathedral implied. The tunnels below had been turned into a working headquarters.

His flashlight rested outside the cage, just beyond his reach. A faint glow flickered from the lantern the masked man had left behind, illuminating the wall covered with photographs. Kael's eyes returned to the largest one: his mother, looking no older than thirty, smiling into the camera while standing beside a lake. The photograph wasn't faded. It was recent.

His heart quickened. He could remember standing beside her grave as a child, the black flowers, the mourners, the coffin being lowered into the ground. Have all those memories been a lie?

Silence fell over the cathedral after the firing. The bodies were scattered on the cracked marble floor as Victor ordered the remaining guards to search every room.

"Nothing," said one of the guards.

“No prisoners?”

The guard shook his head. "No sign of the masked leader either.

Victor muttered a curse. The whole confrontation had been planned with military precision. They'd walked right into it.

Damien stood in front of the ancient altar, looking at the broken stained-glass window. Rain swept in through the opening, wetting the ancient stone. Victor took a careful step.

"We have to find Kael."

"I know where he is."

Victor scowled at him. "You do?"

Damien nodded toward the collapsed staircase. "They wanted him separated from me."

"So why don't we go after him?"

"Because that is exactly what they're expecting."

Victor studied his longtime friend. "You've changed."

"No." Damien's voice remained calm. "I've finally remembered who I'm fighting."

Miles away, Lena sat inside a small candlelit room beneath the cathedral. Her wrists were no longer tied, and a tray of untouched food rested on the table. The masked leader entered quietly, removed his gloves, but kept the silver mask firmly in place.

"You should eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"You will be."

She folded her arms protectively across her stomach. "If you wanted ransom, you would have asked already."

He smiled faintly. "I don't need Damien's money."

"Then why am I here?"

"Because you're important."

"I'm nobody."

"No." He looked directly at her. "You're carrying the future of the Ashcroft bloodline."

Lena refused to let him see her fear. "You keep talking about Kael's family."

"I know more about that family than Kael ever will."

She searched his voice for anger. There was some, but beneath it — pain.

"You don't hate Kael."

The masked man became still. "I never said I did."

"You hate his father."

For the first time he made no reply. Lena knew she had hit the mark.

Back in the underground chamber, Kael saw a glimmering beneath the desk outside the cage—a small metal pin, likely dropped by one of the guards during the fight. His arm reached through the bars. His fingertips grazed it. Insufficient. He lay flat on the cold floor, wedging his shoulder painfully against the iron bars, until at last his fingers caught the tiny object and drew it within.

Pin lock. Simple. Slim. Just what he had wanted. His face broke into a faint smile. “If all else fails… Something Victor had told him long ago came back to him: *Every prison has two weaknesses – the man who guards it, and the man who built it. *

Kael put the pin into the lock. One click. Nothing. Slowly. Carefully. He set the angle. Another click. Somewhere out beyond the chamber there were footsteps. Someone was returning.

Kael stopped breathing. The footsteps were louder, closer, and stopped outside the room. A woman's voice. A voice he knew.

Kael?"

His eyes opened. Lena?”

No reply. Just another murmur. “…Please… help me.”

Kael spun towards the door. There was no one. It hadn't been from the corridor, the voice. It had been from behind the wall. His heart was thumping. Another room, another secret chamber and somewhere on the other side, Lena was.

Kael pressed his ear against the damp stone wall. "Lena?" Silence. Then came another faint knock — three slow taps, a pause, three more. She was alive.

He gripped the lock pin tighter and returned to the cage door. His hands moved with renewed purpose, carefully working the mechanism while the distant echoes continued through the tunnels. One click. 2. The lock finally gave way.

Kael caught the cage door before it could swing open with a loud creak. He slipped outside and grabbed his pistol from the floor. The magazine held only four rounds. It would have to be enough.

He ran to the wall from which Lena's voice had come, his hand running on the rough stone. He saw an old iron ring buried under years of dust and little scratches, a part that was smoother than the rest. He pulled. Nothing. He pulled harder. With a deep rumble, part of the wall shifted inward, revealing a narrow passage just wide enough for one person. Cold air rushed through the opening.

Lena?”

"I'm here." Her voice was clearer now.

"I'm coming."

He stepped into the tunnel, keeping his pistol raised. The passage twisted beneath the cathedral before opening into a circular chamber lit by dozens of candles. Lena stood in the center — untied, unharmed. The moment she saw him, tears filled her eyes.

"Kael."

He crossed the room in seconds and wrapped his arms around her. For a brief moment, the world disappeared — no empire, no enemies, no lies, only the sound of her heartbeat against his chest. He rested a trembling hand against her stomach.

"Our baby's okay?"

She nodded. "We're both okay."

Relief washed over him so powerfully that his knees nearly gave out. "I thought I'd lost you."

"You almost did."

The quiet voice came from the shadows. Kael spun around, raising his weapon. The masked leader stepped into the candlelight, alone.

"I told you she wasn't my enemy."

"Then why kidnap her?"

"So you would come."

"You could have asked."

The man gave a humorless laugh. "Would Damien Ashcroft have allowed that?"

Kael remained silent.

"No," the masked man answered for him. "Your father never allows conversations he can't control."

Lena stepped closer to Kael. "Who was he?

"I wish I knew."

The masked man looked at Lena. "I kept my promise. You were never harmed."

She frowned. "Why?"

"Because this war isn't yours." His gaze shifted back to Kael. "It never was."

Kael tightened his grip on the pistol. "Enough riddles."

"Then ask the right question."

Kael's voice hardened. "What do you want?"

The masked leader slowly reached into his coat. Kael aimed directly at his chest.

"If that's another weapon—"

"No it isn't. He removed a worn leather journal and tossed it onto the floor between them; it slid to Kael's feet. "Read the first page."

Without lowering his weapon, Kael bent and picked it up. The leather was cracked with age. Inside the cover was a handwritten name: *Isabella Ashcroft.* His breath caught. His mother's name.

He flipped to the first page. The ink had faded, but the handwriting was unmistakably feminine: *If anything happens to me, Kael must never learn the truth from Damien.*

His hands began to shake. "What is this?"

"Your mother's journal."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"I expect you to read it."

Lena looked at the journal, then at Kael. "It looks old."

"It is."

Kael stared at the pages. Every instinct told him to keep reading. Every second instinct warned him it could all be a trap.

The masked leader took one step backward. "You don't have much time."

"Time for what?"

"The people above have found the entrance."

As if on cue, muffled voices echoed through the tunnel — Victor's men, searching the underground chambers. Lena looked toward the passage.

"They're here."

The masked man nodded. "And when they arrive…" He looked straight at Kael. "…your father will take that journal."

Kael frowned. " "How do you know?"

"Because he can't let you read it."

Heavy footsteps echoed closer. Victor's voice carried through the tunnel. "Kael!"

"We're here!" Lena shouted.

The masked leader sighed. "Our conversation ends here." He turned toward a narrow passage hidden behind the candles.

"Wait!" Kael stepped forward. "Take off the mask."

The man stopped but didn't turn around. Not today.

"Tell me your name."

There was a long pause. Finally, the masked man spoke. "When your mother sang you to sleep…" His voice softened for the first time. "…she called you Little Hawk."

Kael was frozen. Only three people had ever known that nickname: his mother, his father, and himself.

Before he could react, the masked man disappeared into the darkness. Seconds later, Victor and six armed guards burst into the chamber. Victor immediately lowered his weapon when he saw Lena.

"Thank God."

Lena rushed into Kael's arms again. Victor smiled briefly before noticing the journal in Kael's hand.

"What is that?"

Kael looked down at the worn leather cover. "My mother's."

Victor's expression changed instantly. Before he could speak, Damien entered the chamber. His eyes locked onto the journal. For the first time in decades, the king of the Ashcroft empire looked genuinely afraid.

He took one slow step forward. "Kael." His voice was unusually calm. "Give me the journal."

Kael didn't move. "No."

The silence that followed felt heavier than the cathedral itself. Damien extended his hand.

"Son…" His eyes never left the journal. "…don't make the same mistake your mother made."