Chapter 7—Echoes of the damned
785 Words
New Corinth. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the city’s skyline, now smeared with rain. The air reeks of smoke and betrayal.
Sophia stood amidst shattered glass, her crimson silk robe fluttering in the wind from a blown-out window. The Broker’s men had struck at dawn—a surgical strike. Her servers were reduced to smoldering husks, surveillance feeds replaced by static. A single photo survived the c*****e: her father, Victor, smirking from a gilded frame.
Sophia (whispering): “You warned me, Father.”
***
Victor’s hand on her shoulder, age 16, as they stood over a traitor’s body. “Trust no one, mia figlia. Not even me.”
Her phone buzzed—a video from The Broker. The screen showed her covert orphanage, flames devouring the rooftop. Children’s screams echoed.
The Broker (distorted): “Sentiment is a noose, Shall I tighten it?”
Sophia crushed the phone under her heel, diamond shards biting her palm. “I’ll kill you myself.”
Xavier’s Pov
Xavier’s underground bunker. Concrete walls lined with weapon racks and maps. The hum of a decryption machine fills the air.
Elaine slotted Sophia’s USB into the console, her fingers flying over the keys. Xavier leaned against the wall, his gaze lingering on the scar over her heart—a relic of their last encounter.
Xavier: “How long?”
Elaine: “Patience isn’t your virtue, Castillo.”
The screen lit up: blueprints of New Corinth’s underground tunnels, all leading to the cathedral where Isabella Castillo was buried. A red X marked the crypt.
Elaine (grim): “He’s digging up your mother.”
Xavier’s fist slammed the table. “Why?”
***
Isabella’s funeral. Alejandro’s cold hand on Xavier’s shoulder. “Grieve later. Now, we war.”
***
Elaine zoomed in on a symbol etched into the crypt’s door—a phoenix, identical to her mother’s necklace. “They’re not just bones to him. They’re a message.”
The cathedral catacombs. Damp stone corridors lit by flickering torches. The scent of rot and jasmine oil—Isabella’s favorite perfume.
The Broker stood before Isabella’s exhumed casket, his gloved hand brushing the decayed silk lining. A locket rested inside—a twin to Elaine’s.
The Broker (to the corpse): “You promised, hermanita. ‘Plant the seed, and it will grow.’”
He snapped the locket shut, tucking it into his coat. His men hauled the casket toward a waiting truck, its engine growling like a beast.
The Broker: “To the docks. Let them chase ghosts.”
New Corinth’s storm drains. Knee-deep sewage, rats skittering. Flashlights cut through the gloom.
Xavier and Elaine waded through filth, guns drawn. The decrypted coordinates led here—Sophia’s last known ping.
Xavier: “She’s baiting us.”
Elaine: “And you’re walking into it.”
A shadow moved. Sophia stepped into the light, her face bloodied, blade in hand.
Sophia: “He took her. Your mother. My orphans. He’s erasing us.”
Elaine’s rifle snapped up. “Why trust you now?”
Sophia tossed a detonator. “Because I’m out of options.”
The tunnels erupted.
Stained glass shattered, pews overturned. The Broker’s men flank the altar, where Isabella’s casket lies open.
Xavier, Elaine, and Sophia stormed the nave, gunfire echoing off vaulted ceilings. Elaine picked off snipers with chilling precision while Sophia dueled a henchman, her blade a silver blur. Xavier charged the altar, his roar drowning the chaos.
The Broker (from the shadows): “You’re too late, boy.”
Xavier froze. The Broker stepped into the light, hood lowered.
Xavier: “...Uncle Gabriel?”
Gabriel Reyes, Isabella’s brother, smiled—a corpse’s grin. “She begged for you. Did you know?”
Isabella’s bones gleam under flashlight beams. The stench of betrayal is suffocating.
Gabriel held the locket aloft. “She promised to end the Castillos. Instead, she bore one.”
***
Young Isabella sobbing in Gabriel’s arms. “I can’t kill him. I’m pregnant.”
***
Gabriel’s pistol pressed to Xavier’s temple. “Your mother’s weakness dies tonight.”
A gunshot rang out. Gabriel staggered, blood blooming on his chest. Elaine lowered her smoking rifle, eyes glacial.
Elaine: “Rot in hell.”
Waves lick the bloodstained pier.
Sophia bandaged Xavier’s arm, her touch uncharacteristically gentle. Elaine watched the horizon, Gabriel’s locket cold in her hand.
Xavier: “What now?”
Sophia lit a cigarette, her voice raw. “I disappear. You rebuild.”
Elaine tossed the locket into the sea. “It’s done.”
But as they walked away, Gabriel’s laughter echoed through a surviving earpiece. “You’ll never be free.”
As the sun rose, Elaine’s burner phone buzzed—a photo of her mother’s grave, freshly disturbed. “Game on, Wraith.”
- Writer
