The building's white lights flickered again, dimming to a soft, ghostly hum. Somewhere below, glass cracked. Somewhere above, a door slammed.
The penthouse sat in a strange calm, high above the chaos. Helena curled on the edge of the bed, knees drawn to her chest, Jack's shirt draped loosely over her shoulders. The silk sheets beneath her felt too heavy, like they belonged to someone else's life.
Carla was in the window seat, forehead pressed to the glass, looking down at the empty streetlights. Her hands trembled around a cigarette she hadn't lit. The necklace Jack broke earlier still hung around her throat, snapped links mended with tape.
Neither spoke for a long time.
Helena broke first. Her voice was barely audible. "Why does it feel like I can't breathe when he's not here?"
Carla's reflection shifted in the window, eyes dull but sharp enough to cut. "Because he owns us."
The words sat heavy in the room. Helena flinched like they'd been shouted.
Carla flicked the unlit cigarette against the glass, lips curling. "And you like it."
Helena hugged herself tighter. "So do you."
Carla's laugh was humorless, a sharp exhale. "Yeah." She turned, leaning her head against the frame. "I've been touched before. Used. Paid. Jack's not like them. He doesn't ask. He doesn't pretend. He… rewires you. Makes you forget there was ever a choice."
Helena closed her eyes. Images of Jack's hands, his voice in her ear, his smile when her husband stormed out. She hated the rush that shot through her veins even now.
"Do you think he loves us?" Helena whispered.
Carla studied her for a long time, then shook her head slowly. "He doesn't do love. He does ownership. There's a difference."
Helena's throat tightened. "Then why does it feel like I'd kill for him?"
"Because you would," Carla said simply. "And you'd call it freedom."
The System's hum pulsed faint in Helena's head. She'd never seen its windows like Jack did, but she felt it now—a tether, a whisper, something cold and mechanical running through her spine. It felt like an addiction and a leash all at once.
She looked at Carla again. "Are you scared?"
Carla shrugged. "Of Marcus? Of whatever's in this building? Yeah. But Jack scares me more."
Helena blinked.
Carla smirked faintly. "That's why I trust him."
Somewhere below them, Victor Raines sat in a hallway lit by a single flickering bulb, wiping blood from his knuckles with a rag that smelled like bleach. The Hollow Servants' bodies had been dragged out, but the smell of them lingered—metal and frost and rot.
Victor's wrist still bore Jack's bloody fingerprint. He kept glancing at it, half-expecting the stain to burn. Instead, it felt like armor.
He thought of his sister in the hospital, pale under cheap fluorescent light, machines beeping like a countdown. He thought of every paycheck he'd handed over to Authority, every time he'd been told "good soldier" while his debt grew teeth.
Now he'd shot a camera. Killed officers. Stood with a man who smiled at death like it was an old friend.
Victor stared at the print again. Bleed forward.
For the first time in years, he felt awake.
Jack leaned against a corridor wall nearby, shirt sleeve torn and dark with blood from the earlier fight. He'd left the wound unbandaged, letting the sting settle in. Pain grounded him, kept him sharp.
The building hummed under Marcus's control. Cameras blinked out one by one. The elevators had stopped responding.
Jack closed his eyes.
Helena's laughter on the rooftop, wild and shameless. Carla's moans muffled against his thigh. Marcus's frost bleeding across a monitor. Victor's hand steady as he put a bullet into the feed.
Pieces moving. Some willingly. Some because he'd shoved them into place.
He thought of the word "king." People had called him worse. Helena had whispered it like a confession.
Kings weren't loved. Kings were obeyed. Kings bled forward.
Jack straightened, rolling his shoulders. His HUD flickered, a System message waiting.
[Trait Warning: Blood Oath requires replenishment in 36h or loyalty decay begins.]
[Quest Reminder: Building Lockdown active — Marcus attempting total control. Assets vulnerable.]
He exhaled through his teeth, slow and calm. There was always a cost.
Far from the building, Marcus sat in a darkened suite, lights off, screens glowing pale blue across his face. His reflection stared back at him in fractured shards.
He replayed the moment Victor shot the camera. The soundless crack of defiance. The way frost retreated from the screen like a wound closing.
Marcus's jaw ached from clenching.
"You think he's a king," he muttered, voice a low rasp. "He's just another mortal with good PR."
The System's text crawled lazily across his vision:
[Control Level: 2%]
[Revenant Stability: 70% → 65%]
[Warning: Host psychological erosion increasing.]
Marcus ignored it. His hand drifted to the scar at his neck, the one that marked when he'd stopped being entirely alive. He traced it absently.
"They always think power makes them untouchable," he whispered. "Until they're mine."
The screen in front of him flickered, Helena's face frozen mid-cry. Marcus smiled thinly, tapping the screen with one pale finger.
"Soon."
Back in the penthouse, Helena and Carla moved closer together on the bed, an unspoken understanding forming between them. They were both tethered to Jack, and in that tether was a kind of safety Marcus couldn't touch yet.
Helena traced the broken links of Carla's necklace, her fingers brushing the tape. "Why keep this?"
Carla shrugged. "Because he broke it."
Helena tilted her head.
Carla's smile was crooked, bitter. "When someone like him breaks you, you keep the pieces."
Helena looked down at her hands, flexing them. She could still feel Jack's grip on her throat, his breath against her ear, his voice telling her she was his. The memory burned hotter than shame.
Carla met her gaze. "We're not victims anymore."
"Then what are we?" Helena whispered.
Carla didn't answer. She didn't have to.
Victor came up quietly, jacket over his shoulder, eyes harder than before. Jack met him at the door, gaze flicking over the bandages on his knuckles.
"You're still here," Jack said.
Victor grunted. "Could've left."
"But you didn't."
Victor leaned against the wall, folding his arms. "You're going to get us all killed."
Jack smirked. "Probably."
"Then why do I feel safer around you than I ever did under Authority?"
Jack's smile faded, just a fraction. "Because I bleed forward. They bleed down."
Victor studied him, the weight of those words settling deep.
The lights flickered again, dimming to a thin glow. Marcus's presence pulsed like static through the building. The System pinged quietly:
[Haunting Level: Rising. Anticipated breach in 1h 02m.]
Jack's eyes sharpened. "He's close."
Victor's jaw tightened. "What's the plan?"
Jack glanced toward the penthouse. Helena and Carla were still huddled together, silhouetted by city lights. Both of them his. Both of them marks Marcus wanted to erase.
Jack's grin curved dark. "We make him regret stepping inside his own shadow."
The System purred:
[Major Quest: Revenant's Return — Phase Two Approaching]
Progress: Rivalry 83%
Marcus's shadow crawled along the building's walls, unseen but felt. Residents huddled in locked apartments, too afraid to whisper.
In the penthouse, Helena finally closed her eyes, resting her head on Carla's shoulder. For the first time in weeks, she slept without dreaming of her husband.
Jack watched from the doorway, a rare stillness in his stance.
A king protecting his throne.
And the storm coming to claim it.
Tracker — End of Ch. 19
Helena: 99.5% (stable, haunted but anchored)
Carla: 100% (locked, bonded)
Victor: 58% loyalty, Shield Wall active
Marcus: Control 2%, Stability dropping, haunting escalating
Jack: Blood Oath timer ticking (36h)