Trey's gun didn't shake.
He pointed it at the bigger of Jonas's men.
"Back off."
The man smiled.
Maya stepped sideways, flanking the other. Her knife low, ready.
Evan stayed still, notebook in one hand, key in the other.
Jonas didn't blink.
"You really think I'd trap you without a way out?" he said.
"Pretty sure that's what a trap is," Trey snapped.
Jonas chuckled and stepped back, hands raised.
"You brought a gun to a funeral, boy. This isn't war. It's math."
The two men didn't move, but tension charged the room.
Evan scanned the shelves, the windows — looking for anything.
Jonas leaned against the counter.
"The notebook in your hand is a blueprint. The Court's entire kill log. Every operation. Every disappearance. That key opens the vault where the last record is held."
"Where?" Evan asked.
Jonas didn't answer.
Trey's finger twitched. "He's stalling."
Maya's voice cut in. "Jonas. Tell him, or I start cutting pieces."
Jonas's cloudy eye shifted toward her. For a second, something like sadness crossed his face.
"It's not that simple."
"Make it simple," Maya said.
Jonas sighed. "It's in the Garden District. Beneath the old Delacroix estate. Basement vault. Code-locked."
Evan nodded. "Then we go."
Jonas held up a finger.
"You need the second key. Yours only gets you past the first door."
"Where's the second?" Maya asked.
Jonas pointed at the larger of the two men.
"His chest," he said. "Literally."
The man grinned, then tore open his shirt — revealing a thick scar stretching from shoulder to ribs.
Embedded in the scar tissue: a round brass key, fused to his skin.
Evan took a step back.
"You've got to be kidding."
The man cracked his knuckles. "You want it? Take it."
Maya was already moving.
The fight exploded fast — knives flashing, bodies slamming shelves, glass shattering.
Trey fired once. The bullet caught the smaller guard in the shoulder — sent him spinning to the ground.
Maya fought like she'd done it a hundred times — fast, surgical. She drove her blade across the big man's stomach, but he barely flinched.
He grabbed her wrist and twisted. Her knife clattered away.
Evan moved.
He didn't think. He just reacted.
He grabbed the notebook, ran forward, and slammed it into the man's face.
It didn't hurt him — but it startled him long enough.
Trey fired again — this time aiming low.
The bullet ripped through the man's thigh.
He dropped, finally grunting.
Maya didn't wait.
She drove her second blade — hidden in her boot — deep into the scar.
The man screamed.
Blood poured.
She pulled the key free.
No hesitation.
Evan stared, breathing hard.
Maya tossed the blood-soaked key to him.
"Hold it."
Trey had the door unlocked now — Jonas hadn't moved.
He watched the fight like a man watching reruns of his worst mistake.
"You'll regret this," he said.
Evan paused.
"Why didn't you help?"
Jonas shrugged. "Wasn't my fight."
Evan stared at him.
"Then don't expect mercy if we come back."
Jonas nodded once. "Fair."
They left the bookstore.
The rain outside had stopped. The streets were slick and quiet.
Trey drove them again, fast and without headlights.
No one spoke for ten minutes.
Finally, Evan broke the silence.
"Why was the key in his chest?"
Maya answered without looking at him.
"Pain protects secrets. It's an old rule. One the Court lives by."
Evan leaned his head against the window.
"And we're just following the trail?"
"No," she said. "We're finishing it."
Trey cut the engine outside a massive, rotting mansion behind a rusted gate.
The Delacroix estate.
Tall grass. Broken statues. Empty windows.
It looked like a place where things ended.
Evan gripped both keys.
"I'm ready," he said.
Maya didn't move.
"You sure?"
He looked her in the eyes.
"They tried to erase me. I want to know why."
She nodded.
Trey loaded a fresh clip into his pistol.
"Then let's go knock."
The Delacroix Vault
The mansion loomed above them, its roof half-collapsed, ivy strangling the front porch.
No lights. No sound. Just rot and silence.
Trey pushed the gate open. It groaned like it hadn't moved in years.
"Front's a bad idea," he said. "They'll expect that."
Evan nodded. "Back entrance?"
Maya pointed left. "Basement access is near the old greenhouse. I scouted it once."
They moved quickly around the side of the estate, boots crunching on dead leaves.
The windows they passed were broken — every one. The walls were scarred by old fire. Bullet holes marked the stones like a story told in violence.
They reached the greenhouse. It was shattered, glass littered across the dirt floor. Ivy hung like ropes from the rafters. In the corner, a cellar door waited — rusted, slightly ajar.
Maya knelt beside it and pulled the hinge. It resisted.
Trey helped. Together they wrenched it open.
Stairs led down into darkness.
No one spoke.
Evan descended first, flashlight in one hand, the keys tight in his jacket pocket.
The air turned cold, damp with mildew. Smelled like wet concrete and copper.
At the bottom: a concrete corridor.
They walked quietly, weapons drawn. At the end of the corridor, a steel door waited.
Flat. Smooth. No handle. Just a rectangular keyhole.
Evan pulled the first key.
He inserted it slowly.
A loud click.
The wall beside the door slid open, revealing a small biometric panel.
Red light blinked.
Maya leaned in. "This is where it gets tricky."
Evan looked at her. "What's it want?"
"Your blood."
He blinked. "What?"
"The notebook isn't just records. It's coded to your family's DNA. Your father, you, maybe others. The vault's protected by bloodline access."
Trey raised an eyebrow. "And if he doesn't give it blood?"
"It locks forever."
Evan didn't wait. He bit down on his finger, hard, drawing blood, and smeared it across the sensor.
The light blinked twice. Then turned green.
The steel door hissed open.
Beyond it, stairs descended into blue light.
They followed, one at a time.
The vault wasn't a room. It was a system — dozens of sealed cases, digital terminals, rows of filing cabinets behind reinforced glass.
In the center: a single pedestal.
On it — a silver case with a fingerprint scanner.
Evan approached.
Maya stayed close. "We get that open, we end this."
Trey looked around. "This place gives me the creeps. Too quiet."
Evan pressed his thumb to the scanner.
A moment passed.
Then: a beep. The case opened.
Inside, a thick black drive and a single sheet of paper.
He read it aloud.
"This is the kill switch. Once uploaded, every name, every payment, every order goes public. Full exposure. No way to reverse."
Trey whistled. "All that power… in one drive?"
"Yeah," Maya said. "And that's why they'll kill us before we leave."
Suddenly — voices upstairs.
Boots. Doors opening. Heavy. Multiple.
Evan snapped the case shut.
"We're not alone."
Maya drew both blades. Trey loaded a round.
"We fight?" Evan asked.
Maya looked him dead in the eye.
"No. We run. We get this to someone who can publish it before they burn it down."
Evan hesitated.
"If we run, they'll follow. If we fight—"
"We die," Trey said.
The lights flickered.
Then cut out completely.
Total dark.
"Go," Maya whispered. "Now."
They ran.
Up the stairs, into the hall.
Flashlights bobbed ahead — shadows moved between columns.
Trey shot the first man through the neck.
Evan followed Maya through a shattered side door.
Gunfire exploded behind them — three shots, maybe more.
Trey shouted, "Move!"
A bullet ricocheted off the doorway as Evan dove through it.
They sprinted through the garden, vault drive in hand, dodging between hedges.
Behind them, more footsteps — someone yelled Evan's name.
He didn't turn around.
They reached the truck.
Trey jumped in behind the wheel, bleeding from his side.
"You got it?"
Evan nodded, held up the case.
Trey slammed his foot on the gas.
As they tore down the street, Maya looked at Evan.
"You good?"
He looked down at the case.
"No. But I'm ready."