Days passed, though the concept of time felt increasingly abstract. Runa was trapped in a loop of echoes. Eli's low, vibrating warning played on repeat: You have no choice. Then came Rio Vasquez's cruel laugh at the gala: Twenty-one years of debt, settled in a single night. Lucky you, Winters. Most people pay the Vales back in limbs.
She looked at her hands—still whole—and wondered if the price of keeping her skin intact was simply the slow surrender of her soul.
To keep the walls from closing in, Runa roped Toni into the kitchen, desperate to recreate a world that smelled of vanilla instead of gun oil.
"You have to sift the flour slowly," Runa explained, her fingers moving with a grace that felt like a haunting from her previous life. "I used to have a bakeshop before... everything. This was our signature egg tart."
Toni, usually a whirlwind of energy, looked entirely out of her depth. "I can do this. I've seen the chefs do it." She grabbed an egg and brought it down with enough force to shatter the shell into a mess of yolks and jagged shards. Runa laughed—a small, rare sound—and stepped in to guide her. Eventually, Toni gave up, leaning against the marble counter with a sigh. "I think I'll stick to being the taste-tester. My hands were made for applause, not dough."
When the first batch came out, the scent of caramelized sugar and buttery crust filled the wing. Althea and Jason, caught by the aroma, drifted in like sharks sensing a change in the current. Althea took a bite, offering a rare, clipped "not bad" before nudging Jason. "Hurry up. We have to discuss the dock manifests." Jason didn't need telling twice; he scooped up a handful of tarts and followed his sister out.
When Eli appeared, the warmth in the room shifted. Her expression remained a neutral mask of duty. "Toni, Gwen is outside. She's waiting."
Runa held out a plate to Eli, her heart giving a traitorous thump. "Would you like some? They're still warm."
Eli looked at the plate, then at Runa. "No thanks," she said. Her voice wasn't harsh, just distant. She turned on her heel and left.
"She isn't a fan of sweets," Toni whispered, giving Runa a sympathetic look. "She prefers things that don't leave a lingering taste. I'll see you later."
An hour later, the rhythmic crack-crack-crack of gunfire echoed through the private range. Runa found Eli there, a silhouette of sharp angles against the backstop.
"I'm not hungry," Eli said, her voice cutting through the ringing silence.
"These aren't the sweet ones," Runa said, stepping into the sterile light. "I made a savory batch. Spinach and cheese. Please try it."
Eli finished her magazine, the slide locking back with a metallic ping. She set the weapon down. Runa stood her ground, offering the plate. "Wash your hands first," she commanded gently.
For a second, Eli stood perfectly still. But then she looked at Runa—saw the smudge of flour on her cheek and the stubborn set of her jaw—and the ice in her eyes cracked. She washed the lead and powder from her skin and returned to take a tart.
"It's good," Eli said quietly. It was the closest thing to a compliment she had given in weeks.
That was two days ago.
Inside the Vale estate, time moved by the rhythm of footsteps and shifting security rotations. Runa wasn't a guest; she was a bird in a gilded cage. Death felt omnipresent, tucked into the shadows of velvet curtains and the sharp edges of marble statues. The only warmth left was Toni.
"There's an audition tomorrow," Toni said softly. "An indie film. It's perfect. I wish I could go."
"You should go," Runa said.
"Father would shut it down. Everyone—Eli included—would say no. No risks."
Runa hesitated, then leaned closer. She knew what she was doing, and she hated herself for it. "What if you went under a different name? Security would focus on the perimeter. It'll be crowded."
Understanding dawned in Toni's eyes. This wasn't just advice; it was an opening.
Eli found them minutes later, reading the air instantly. "You're planning something."
"I'm suffocating, Eli!" Toni snapped. "It's one role. One chance to be someone other than a Vale. Please."
The silence stretched. Finally, Eli looked away. "Fake name. No photos. If a single camera catches your face, I'm pulling you out by your hair."
The audition building was a maze of raw nerves. Toni checked in as 'Sarah Miller,'. "This is it," she whispered, squeezing Runa's hand.
"Good luck," Runa said. As Toni walked away, Runa added under her breath, "I'm sorry."
Runa slipped away, dissolving into the crowd. She reached the back exit, heart pounding, when a man collided with her.
"Hey—sorry," he said. He looked ordinary—flannel shirt, baseball cap. "You okay? You look like you're running from a ghost."
"I need help," Runa gasped. "Please. Just get me away from here."
"I've got a car in the lot," he said, gripping her arm. "Come on."
Eli's phone crackled. "Ms. Toni is on queueing line, Miss Eli. But,uh, we've lost sight of Miss Runa."
The world narrowed. Eli shoved open her SUV door, her boots hitting the pavement hard. "Check the surveillance. Now!"
"Visual reacquired," the comms sparked. "Service corridor, rear exit. She entered a red sedan. Exit B."
Eli didn't wait. She swung onto her black Ducati, the engine roaring to a predatory snarl. She became chrome and shadow, slicing through traffic with ruthless precision. The red sedan burst onto the boulevard, and Eli launched after it.
The chase ripped toward the industrial district—rusted warehouses and salt-stained concrete. The sedan swerved violently between shipping containers. Eli leaned into every turn, her knee skimming the asphalt, closing the distance surgically.
The driver broke. He skidded onto an abandoned road, gravel spraying as he slammed the brakes. "Who the hell did you piss off?" he shouted at Runa, his voice cracking with fear. "I didn't sign up for this!"
Eli didn't slow. She initiated a controlled low-side, the bike screaming as it scraped the ground. She rolled, came up on her feet, and raised her gun in one seamless motion.
The man stumbled out, hands raised. "I was just helping her! She said she was being kidnapped!"
"Step away from the vehicle," Eli ordered, her voice flat and absolute.
"Please—Eli!" Runa cried, scrambling out. "He didn't hurt me! He's the only one who tried to help!"
Eli's finger tightened on the trigger. The man's eyes flicked to the weapon. Desperation flashed across his face, and he made a sudden, jerky move toward his waistband.
Crack.
The gunshot shattered the air. The man dropped instantly, red spreading fast across his chest.
"No!" Runa screamed, collapsing beside him. "You didn't have to kill him! You're monsters—all of you!"
Eli walked forward through the settling dust. She didn't look at the body with hatred—only detached evaluation.
"He was a risk," she said calmly, lowering her gun, though her eyes remained cold. "Risks are eliminated."