CHAPTER 5
Blackridge never slept.
It *shifted*.
Metal groaned. Pipes shuddered. Electricity hummed under the floors like veins pumping cold blood. Even the darkness had a rhythm—breathing, pulsing, watching.
Kade hadn't slept since they locked him in the cell.
Not with Dorian Vale sitting ten feet away.
He didn't trust men who smiled without showing teeth.
He trusted even less the ones who smiled with their eyes still dead.
Dorian lay on the bottom bunk, hands behind his head, gaze fixed on the ceiling as if reading invisible code.
Kade finally spoke.
"What do you want?"
Dorian didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Didn't even sigh.
"I told you," he murmured, "I need you alive."
"That's not an answer."
Dorian's lips curved.
"You sound like him, you know."
Kade stiffened.
"Who?"
"Your brother."
The room went still.
Kade's jaw clenched. "My brother is dead."
Dorian chuckled softly—a sound that didn't match the tension in the air.
"I was there, Kade. I watched the footage. I reviewed the logs. I read the surgeon's report."
A pause.
"Your brother didn't die. He disappeared."
Kade felt something tighten behind his ribs.
"Citadel faked the autopsy?" he asked.
"No."
Dorian finally turned his head—slowly—like a predator acknowledging prey.
"They never received a body."
The words hit like a hammer.
Kade stepped toward him.
"What did you say?"
Dorian sat up smoothly.
"A corpse was scheduled to arrive at a classified Citadel sub-lab for dissection. But the truck arrived empty. Completely empty. No blood. No signs of break-in."
His eyes gleamed.
"Almost like your brother walked out on his own."
Kade felt heat rise in his throat.
A mix of hope.
And terror.
"If Lincoln is alive," he whispered, "then where—?"
Dorian held up a finger.
"Not yet."
Kade froze mid-sentence.
"I'm giving you truth," Dorian said.
"But not for free. You're going to earn the rest."
Kade exhaled sharply.
"What do you want from me?"
Dorian stood, his movements precise, almost surgical.
"I know why you're here," he said.
"Why Citadel wants you."
Kade stared at him.
"You don't know anything about me."
Dorian stepped closer, lowering his voice until it was almost a whisper.
"You have something they need, Kade. It's not genetic. It's not physical. It's *intellectual*."
He tapped Kade's forehead—gently.
"**You're a patternist.**"
Kade frowned.
"A what?"
"A mind that sees structure where others see chaos. The kind of brain that can look at a thousand scattered pieces and find the blueprint."
Kade shook his head.
"That's not—"
"You solved your brother's case in six months," Dorian said.
"Cases that took full federal teams a year."
Kade blinked.
"How do you know that?"
Dorian smiled—finally showing teeth.
"I read your off-record file."
"You shouldn't have access to that."
Dorian's smile sharpened.
"I had access to *everything*."
He leaned forward.
"Citadel wants your mind. Blackridge wants your body. But *I* want your pattern."
Kade stepped back, throat dry.
"My pattern for what?"
Dorian tilted his head.
"To break Blackridge."
The cell's overhead speaker crackled suddenly—sharp, violent.
A female voice boomed through the hallway:
> **"BLOCK E — PREPARE FOR EXTRACTION PROTOCOL."**
Alarms screamed to life.
Lights flashed red.
Metal shutters clanged.
Dorian looked up calmly.
"Well," he said, "that didn't take long."
Kade's heart slammed against his ribs.
"Extraction for who?"
Dorian tapped Kade's chest.
"You."
Kade felt cold all over.
"No. No — we're not ready. You said—"
Dorian grabbed his shoulders, eyes burning with intensity.
"Listen to me. Extraction means they're taking you to Sublevel 9. If you reach that floor, you will not come back."
Kade swallowed hard.
"What's on Sublevel 9?"
Dorian answered without hesitation:
"**The Vulture Wing. They take minds apart down there.**"
Kade's breath froze.
Boots thundered down the hallway—dozens of guards.
Dorian leaned close, whispering fast:
"In ten seconds they'll open this door. Do exactly what I say."
"What—"
"Do. You. Understand?"
Kade nodded.
Dorian stepped back, expression snapping into something cold and calculated.
The cell door slammed open.
Two guards entered in reinforced gear, taser rods raised.
"V-391, step forward."
"Hands behind your head."
Kade hesitated a fraction of a second.
Dorian spoke.
"Now."
Kade moved.
Not toward the guards—
but toward the sink.
The guard shouted, "Stand down—!"
Too late.
Kade yanked the metal pipe under the sink—loose, corroded, already weakened. He swung it upward, smashing the overhead light.
Sparks exploded.
Darkness swallowed the cell—
—just as Dorian moved.
It wasn't a fight.
It was choreography.
One guard choked.
The other crashed against the wall.
A visor cracked.
A taser rod spun across the floor.
Ten seconds.
Two unconscious bodies.
Kade stared, breathing hard.
"You were planning this," he said.
Dorian gave a tiny, polite bow.
"I plan everything."
He picked up a keycard from the fallen guard and tossed it to Kade.
"You want to find your brother?"
Dorian asked.
Kade clenched the card.
"Yes."
Dorian's grin turned lethal.
"Good. Because we'll start by breaking into the Vulture Wing instead of being dragged into it."
Kade blinked.
"What? Why—?"
"Because," Dorian said, stepping out into the hall as alarms blared and the prison screamed around them,
"your brother's name appears *twice* in the classified Vulture Wing registry."
Kade froze.
"Twice," Dorian repeated softly.
"One entry marked *deceased.*
The second marked **unknown location — high value.**"
Kade felt the world tilt.
"Why would Citadel mark the same person as dead and alive at the same time?"
Dorian smirked.
"That's what we're going to find out."
He nodded toward the dark corridor ahead.
"Welcome to the real Blackridge, Kade. You're not escaping a prison."
He tapped the side of his head.
"You're escaping a conspiracy with your face on it."
And then—quiet, focused, dangerous—
"Stay close. The extraction crew will kill you on sight."
Kade followed him.
Because for the first time since the nightmare began…
There was hope.
And terror.
And a direction.