(Valemont Association for Research, Assassination, and Knowledge)
Callista's POV
We crouched low behind the broken ruins of what used to be an industrial complex, the stench of oil and rust thick in the air.
Our team was silent, weapons drawn, eyes cold and sharp.
Beyond the crumbling wall where we hid, the enemy stronghold stretched out—ugly, fortified, and alive with shadows.
V.A.R.A.K.
The whispered name alone had once been enough to make nations flinch.
Valemont Association for Research, Assassination, and Knowledge—a name as pretty as a dagger dipped in poison.
Founded by none other than Victor Valemont.
Aurelius' father.
The man who had trained his son like a weapon since birth.
The man who had built this empire on blood, broken bodies, and shattered futures.
Aurelius crouched beside me, his jaw tight, fists clenched. Even in the dark, I could see the tremor running through him.
Not fear.
Rage.
Grief.
Resolve.
I reached out and brushed the back of my fingers lightly against his.
No words.
Just a reminder.
You're not alone.
He flicked his eyes toward me, gave a barely-there nod—and then returned to scanning the perimeter.
Our team was perfectly positioned:
Phelia was setting up EMP charges with a grin that promised violence.
Xavier was in the shadows, typing like a man possessed, ready to crash their entire security system in less than sixty seconds.
Simon checked his weapons with silent prayers under his breath.
Caleb manned the rear guard, his rifle steady, his nerves steel.
My mother and Aunt Vivian had split off to flank from the east side, running black-ops maneuvers that could make even seasoned agents sweat.
Tonight wasn't just about infiltration.
It was war.
Because V.A.R.A.K. wasn't just an organization.
It was a machine.
Inside those walls, they bred killers.
Spies.
Hackers.
Assassins.
Children stolen from their families.
Scientists bought, blackmailed, or broken.
Weapons no one had ever heard of.
And somewhere in there...
Aurora.
Weak. Starving. Caged.
And if we didn't move fast, if we didn't tear this monster down from the inside—
We would lose her.
We would lose more than that.
Aurelius shifted closer, his breath barely a whisper against my ear.
"Two minutes to breach," he said.
I nodded, checking the thin blade strapped to my thigh and the twin pistols holstered beneath my jacket.
Aurelius wasn't the only weapon in this war.
I was ready too.
And I wasn't leaving without her.
"Team A, set charges."
"Team B, ready grappling gear."
"Team C, suppressive fire on my mark."
My mother's voice cut clean through the comms, crisp and lethal.
Everything was in motion.
No way back now.
I glanced at Aurelius, and for a heartbeat—just a heartbeat—he smiled.
A real smile.
Ragged, fierce, and alive.
"Stay close," he said lowly.
I grinned back, feeling adrenaline spike in my veins.
"Try to keep up, Romeo."
Then the first explosion rocked the ground beneath our feet—
—metal groaned—
—lights flickered—
—and the gates to hell blew wide open.
We charged.
The explosion ripped through the outer wall, throwing debris into the night sky like fireworks gone wrong.
We surged forward into the breach—
—and slammed into the first layer of V.A.R.A.K.'s defenses.
Gangsters.
Dozens of them, armed with baseball bats, chains, knives, and cheap pistols. Low-grade thugs meant to slow us down, not stop us.
Phelia vaulted over a crate and slammed her fist into the nearest man's throat with brutal efficiency.
Simon and Caleb opened suppressive fire, non-lethal rounds cracking out in rapid succession.
Xavier moved like a ghost, slicing through the chaos toward the first security node.
Me?
I didn't hesitate.
I spun low, kicking a thug's legs out from under him.
Snatched his weapon mid-fall.
Flipped it in my hand and tossed it to Aurelius, who caught it without looking.
"Thanks, sweetheart," he said grimly.
"You're buying me dinner after this," I shot back, ducking under a swing and delivering a sharp elbow to the attacker's ribs.
We tore through them, a brutal, fast-moving storm.
First layer: cleared.
But we barely had time to breathe before the second layer hit us.
Assassins.
They moved like shadows—silent, merciless, blades glinting under the emergency lights.
"Stay sharp!" my mother barked over comms.
I barely dodged a razor-thin dagger aimed at my throat.
Aurelius yanked me behind him, countering with a vicious kick that sent the assassin flying into a steel beam with a sickening crunch.
These weren't amateurs.
These were trained killers.
A sliver of pride flickered in my chest.
Good.
I needed the warm-up.
We fought back-to-back, the way we always had in training.
The way only people who trusted each other completely could.
Steel clashed.
Knives flashed.
Blood hit the floor—some of it ours.
But we didn't stop.
Couldn't stop.
We took them down, one by one, until only bodies and broken weapons remained.
Second layer: cleared.
And then came the third.
And everything changed.
The floor shook beneath our boots.
A low, guttural growl filled the air.
From the far end of the corridor, the cages opened.
And they came out.
Tamed, injected beasts.
Twisted experiments of flesh and fury.
Wolves with reptilian scales.
Lions with fangs like sabers.
Grotesque hybrids of science and cruelty, foaming at the mouth, eyes wild.
"Shit," Caleb muttered.
"No killing unless necessary," my mother ordered grimly. "They're victims too."
Easier said than done.
A wolf-creature lunged at me, faster than any normal animal.
I spun, ducked under its snapping jaws, and slammed an electric prod into its side.
The beast howled, convulsed, and dropped unconscious.
One down.
Dozens to go.
Aurelius vaulted onto a lion-dragon hybrid's back, wrestling it down with pure strength and a well-placed sedative dart.
Simon and Xavier worked quickly, tossing sound grenades that disoriented the creatures without killing them.
It was brutal.
Messy.
Heartbreaking.
But we got through it.
One beast at a time.
Third layer: cleared.
I wiped sweat and blood from my brow, heart hammering.
No time to rest.
Fourth layer: the Valemont's men.
Elite soldiers.
Trained personally by Victor and Leonard.
They came out in full tactical gear, armed to the teeth, moving like a synchronized killing machine.
But we were LUMENN.
And we fought smarter.
Xavier hacked the security lights, plunging the room into strobing darkness.
Phelia and Simon moved like wraiths, dismantling the soldiers' ranks from within.
Caleb unleashed controlled sniper shots, picking off key targets with brutal efficiency.
Me and Aurelius?
We punched through their frontline like a battering ram.
My fists cracked against armor.
Aurelius disarmed and disabled with terrifying precision.
He wasn't just fighting for himself.
He was fighting for Aurora.
For all the people stolen by V.A.R.A.K.
Fourth layer: cleared.
The air turned metallic and sharp as we approached the fifth layer.
Technology.
Laser grids.
Auto-turrets.
Automated drones sweeping the halls.
"Let me handle this," I said, breathless but grinning.
Xavier tossed me a modified spike drive.
I sprinted forward, rolling under the first laser grid, dodging turret fire by inches, and slammed the drive into the mainframe panel.
A flood of blue code spilled across my HUD.
Fingers flew across the touchscreen.
Override.
Bypass.
Reprogram.
The lasers dropped.
The drones shut down mid-hover and clattered uselessly to the floor.
The path cleared.
Fifth layer: neutralized.
But then we hit the final layer.
And it was the worst.
Biometrics.
Blood scans.
Retina IDs.
DNA locks.
"This is Leonard's work," Aurelius muttered darkly, scanning the triple-redundant locks.
"We don't have his biometrics," Caleb said, grim.
"No," Aurelius said.
"But we have something better."
He stepped forward.
Rolled up his sleeve.
Exposed the scarred brand burned into his skin—the sigil of V.A.R.A.K., forced on him as a child.
He placed his palm against the scanner.
The system hesitated.
Then blinked green.
Access granted.
The heavy vault door groaned open.
Inside?
A dark hallway.
Screams echoing down from the far end.
A single message blinked across the top of the entrance.
PROPERTY OF V.A.R.A.K.
NO RETURN.
I looked at Aurelius.
He looked at me.
"We bring them home," I said.
He nodded once, grim and sure.
And we stepped into hell together.
The darkness inside the vault was unnatural.
Thick. Suffocating.
The kind of dark that didn't just hide things—it ate them.
We moved carefully, guns raised, scanning every corner.
At first, it was silent.
Too silent.
Then—
A shuffling sound.
Soft, wet, uneven.
Shapes emerged from the gloom.
Children.
But not the way children should look.
Gaunt faces.
Sunken eyes.
Skin stretched too thin over bones.
Movements jerky and twitching, as if their very muscles had forgotten how to obey them.
Injected kids.
The ones V.A.R.A.K. deemed failures.
I bit back bile rising in my throat.
Some staggered toward us with vacant, hollow expressions, reaching out with trembling hands.
Others simply crumpled to the floor, too weak to move.
"God," Simon whispered hoarsely beside me. "What did they do to them?"
Aurelius said nothing.
But I could feel the rage radiating off him like a furnace about to explode.
He spotted them first—the Aurora replicas.
Lined up along the far wall.
Identical girls with white hair and hollow blue eyes.
Some crying softly.
Others completely catatonic.
You couldn't tell which one was real.
You weren't supposed to.
It was a cruel, evil trick designed to confuse rescuers.
Or maybe just to break hearts.
"Aurelius," I said softly, touching his arm.
He nodded grimly, jaw clenched so hard I thought it might crack.
"We keep going," he said, voice ragged. "The real Aurora isn't here."
He was right.
I felt it too.
This wasn't her.
This wasn't life.
We pushed deeper into the labyrinth of misery.
Past the broken children.
Past the failed clones.
Past the rotting stench of death and abandonment.
Until—
We heard it.
A soft, pitiful noise.
Not crying.
Not screaming.
Just... breathing.
Barely.
We followed the sound down a narrow corridor, walls caving in on either side.
Until we found it.
A door.
Heavy steel. Bolted. Sealed.
And from behind it—
Light.
Barely a crack, spilling out like the last breath of a dying candle.
Without a word, Aurelius surged forward.
Punched the override panel.
Kicked the door with every ounce of fury in his body.
It burst open—
And the stench hit us like a wave.
Rot. Sweat. Blood.
Inside—
A pile of children.
Real ones.
The ones they hadn't injected—yet.
Small bodies sprawled across the filthy floor, pale and shivering, some unconscious, some barely clinging to awareness.
In the center, curled protectively around two smaller kids—
Was Aurora.
I recognized her instantly.
Even half-starved.
Even bruised and broken.
That fire in her was still there.
Her arms were wrapped around a little boy—a twin of herself.
Lucien.
Both unconscious.
Both barely breathing.
But alive.
"Aurora!" Aurelius choked out, bolting forward.
He dropped to his knees beside her, gathering her carefully in his arms like she was made of glass.
"Aurora, it's me," he whispered, shaking slightly. "It's your big brother. I'm here. You're safe now. You're safe."
She didn't wake up.
But her fingers twitched.
Just barely.
Clutching the front of his jacket.
Holding onto him like a lifeline.
I knelt beside them, checking Lucien's pulse—weak but steady.
"They're alive," I said hoarsely. "But we have to move, now."
The others rushed in—Simon, Phelia, Caleb, Xavier, my mother, my aunt.
Blankets. Med kits. Stretchers.
Aurelius cradled Aurora like he could shield her from the world by sheer will alone.
"We're getting you out," I whispered to her.
I kissed her forehead softly, just like I had done to Aurelius back at the hospital.
"We're taking you home."
Inside—
A pile of children.
Real ones.
The ones they hadn't injected—yet.
Small bodies sprawled across the filthy floor, pale and shivering, some unconscious, some barely clinging to awareness.
And in the center—
Aurora.
I recognized her instantly.
Even half-starved.
Even bruised and broken.
That fire in her was still there.
Her arms were wrapped around two smaller children she was protecting, shielding them with her own body.
"Aurora!" Aurelius choked out, bolting forward.
He dropped to his knees beside her, gathering her carefully in his arms like she was made of glass.
"Aurora, it's me," he whispered, his voice breaking. "It's your big brother. I'm here. You're safe now."
She didn't wake.
But her fingers twitched.
Just barely.
Clutching the front of his jacket.
Holding onto him like a lifeline.
I knelt beside them, checking the other kids—frail, starving, dehydrated—but alive.
"They're breathing," I said hoarsely. "But we have to move, now."
The others rushed in—Simon, Phelia, Caleb, Xavier, my mother, my aunt.
Blankets. Med kits. Stretchers.
Aurelius cradled Aurora tighter, like he could protect her from the entire world.
"We're getting you out," I whispered to her.
I brushed a lock of filthy white hair from her bruised face.
"We're taking you home."
The rescue operation moved like a machine.
The LUMENN agents and Aurelius's men worked together seamlessly—
wrapping the kids in blankets, lifting them into waiting trucks, treating wounds, whispering soft reassurances.
Not just children.
Adults too—broken, hollow-eyed survivors who had been forgotten by the world.
But I only had eyes for one scene.
Aurelius.
He was on his knees, cradling Aurora like she was something holy, something he thought he would never touch again.
Tears streamed down his face, raw and unchecked.
He didn't even try to hide them.
His hands trembled as he held her gently against his chest, pressing his forehead to hers like he could somehow give her his strength, his heartbeat.
"So many days..." he whispered, his voice shattering.
"So many nights... searching... hoping... and now…"
He squeezed his eyes shut, choking on the weight of it.
I moved closer, crouching quietly beside him, my hand resting lightly on his back.
He let out a rough, broken laugh.
"If Lucien saw her like this," he said hoarsely, "that kid would bawl his eyes out for days. He's soft when it comes to her... softer than me."
His arms tightened protectively around Aurora one last time, before—painfully, reluctantly—he let go.
He laid her carefully onto the stretcher that Simon had brought over, as if afraid she would shatter if he wasn't careful enough.
I saw his hands linger—hovering over her, aching to keep holding on.
He turned toward me, his eyes red-rimmed but burning with something fierce and unbreakable.
"Of all my so-called siblings," he said, his voice rough but steady, "only Aurora and Lucien are real to me."
He let out another shaky laugh, one that cracked open something tender between us.
"They even gave me a nickname when they were little," he confessed, glancing down at Aurora's pale face with a broken fondness.
"Called me 'Ariel.'"
He winced, half-laughing at himself.
"Because once... I dressed up like the Little Mermaid to make them laugh. Full costume. Red wig. Tail and everything."
He scrubbed a hand down his face, embarrassed but smiling through the tears.
"It was stupid. Embarrassing as hell," he murmured, voice thick. "But... it made them happy. So it was golden to me."
For a moment, there was only silence between us.
No war. No blood. No enemies.
Just a brother mourning what was almost lost, and a girl who understood him too well.
I reached out, my fingers brushing his hand lightly, grounding him.
"You did good, Ariel," I whispered with a small, broken smile.
He huffed a watery laugh—and this time, he didn't pull away.
Outside, I could hear the trucks rumbling to life.
The survivors were being loaded up, the perimeter still secured by Aurelius's men.
The nightmare wasn't over yet.
We still had to escape.
Still had to survive whatever traps Leonard had laid.
But in that moment?
We had won.
We had found Aurora.
And no one—not even the Valemonts—was going to take her away again.
Aurelius suddenly stood, the air around him shifting.
Gone was the broken boy clutching his sister.
In his place was a leader—sharp, commanding, terrifying in his quiet fury.
"Secure the rest of the base," he barked at his men.
"Find every last survivor. Bring them out alive."
He paused—then, with a voice colder than winter steel:
"Anyone belonging to VARAK… leave no one standing."
The soldiers stiffened, exchanging uncertain glances.
One of them, a younger man with wide eyes and too much honesty, hesitated.
He finally blurted out, "But sir... aren't you the Commander-in-Chief of VARAK?"
The words hung there, thick and ugly.
I couldn't help it—
A short, stunned laugh escaped me, half disbelieving, half horrified.
But when I looked at Aurelius—really looked—I saw it.
The betrayal carved into the set of his jaw.
The grief hidden behind his storm-gray eyes.
The rage—simmering, old and fresh all at once.
He answered without hesitation.
"Leonard took that title after Father stripped me of it," he said flatly.
"After he found out I was planning to tear all of this down from the inside."
His voice didn't waver.
Didn't flinch.
But the pain was there.
Sharp. Raw. Bloody.
"And now..." he continued, quieter, like a storm gathering in his chest, "Lucien is still at the Valemont estate."
He clenched his fists at his sides, knuckles going bone-white.
For a moment, he wasn't the fearless commander, or the tragic heir, or even the brother grieving for his sister.
He was just… a boy. A boy who had lost too much. A boy about to lose even more.
His men saw it too.
Without another word, they snapped into motion, scattering through the ruined corridors of the base, following his orders to the letter.
The LUMENN agents moved alongside them, carrying out the wounded, stabilizing the barely-breathing.
I watched as the medics lifted Aurora gently onto a better stretcher, checking her vitals, administering fluids, speaking in calm, soft tones.
Safe now.
She was safe.
But Aurelius?
His hands were still trembling at his sides.
I stepped closer, just close enough to hear the ragged breath he sucked through his teeth.
"Lucien..." he muttered under his breath.
It wasn't just fear in his voice.
It was guilt.
It was love.
It was the vow of a brother who had already lost too much—and refused to lose again.
I reached out and touched his shoulder lightly.
"We'll get him," I said, my voice low but certain.
"We'll bring Lucien home, too."
His eyes met mine—raw, desperate—and for a second, just a second, the mask slipped.
He nodded once, stiffly.
Then he turned on his heel, barking more orders, already preparing for the next battle.
Because this war?
It wasn't over yet.
And now it was personal.
I watched Aurelius as he paced, issuing orders left and right, but in my mind, a heavy, burning question was forming.
How?
How were we supposed to get into the Valemont Estate?
It wasn't just a mansion.
It was practically its own kingdom—fortified, heavily guarded, drenched in old money and newer blood.
Protected by layers of security that made what we just tore down at VARAK look like child's play.
Nobody could just walk in.
Nobody.
I bit my lip, tilting my head as I stared at him.
Finally, I couldn't help myself—I blurted out, "Hey... Daddy?"
He turned to me with a look that clearly said not now, but I just grinned, cocking a brow.
"Are you still welcome at your estate, Daddy?" I asked sweetly, putting just enough teasing in my voice to lighten the crushing tension.
The team around us pretended not to listen, but I saw a few shoulders stiffen, waiting for his reaction.
Aurelius stopped moving.
Dead stop.
For a second, he didn't say anything.
Just stared at me.
Then, slowly—very slowly—he gave a bitter, humorless chuckle.
"Welcome?" he repeated, almost to himself.
"Maybe once. When I was their golden boy."
He turned away, the shadows clinging to his back like a cloak.
"But after everything I've done...?"
His voice dropped, heavy, cold.
"I'm a traitor to them now. If I walk through those gates—"
He lifted his hand and made a slicing motion across his throat.
Charming.
"So, no special family discount?" I joked lightly, trying to cover the unease twisting in my gut.
He gave me a sideways glance, something almost like a smile tugging at his mouth—but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"No. No discounts," he said quietly.
"And definitely no mercy."
End of chapter 17.