novelraw Chapter 166: The Betrayal
Chapter 166: The Betrayal
Lachlan took the last three stairs in one stride and hit the living room with a smile that did not belong in winter. Heat from the fireplace washed over him.
The leather couches and the marble gleamed as if the world outside had never frozen.
"I got in contact with them." His breath ran fast, chest lifting like he had finished a sprint. "They’re sending someone over now."
The room went still.
Even the television’s black screen seemed to listen.
A low thump rolled through the penthouse, deep enough to tremble glass in the chandeliers. Not a crack. Not a creak. A distant, muffled boom that came from across the ice. A white plume lifted on the horizon where the leaning tower broke the tundra.
Sera did not ask how he had done it. She did not ask why. At this point in time, she didn’t care what excuse he offered.
A snarl tore loose before she knew it was there. She crossed the room in three steps, snatched the scope from the counter, and vanished into the stairwell.
The roof door groaned at the hinges and the cold hit like a blade. Wind came off the flats and stole breath from anyone who needed it.
She did not.
She dropped one knee to the gravel on the other side of the greenhouse, braced a forearm on the parapet, and brought the scope to her eye. The tilted tower filled the glass. Ice dust still drifted where the boom had blown a frozen frame apart. A jagged window gaped like a mouth. Something moved inside that dark.
A man climbed through.
He was wrapped in layers. A scarf hid most of his face. He swung his legs down and slid onto the hard surface, boots struggling to hold.
He steadied himself, hunched, and began the first careful steps toward the open field between buildings.
The creature under Sera’s skin pressed close to her bones.
It pushed images at her in quick, bright cuts.
Tear him open. Crack his skull. Eat his heart and his brain in full view of the leaning tower before throwing what is left to the wolves and let the others watch.
Make what happened next a lesson they would never forget.
She did not move from her position, knowing that she could be over there in minutes if she wanted.
Instead, she watched what was unfolding in front of her.
The man’s breath blew white. He hit the rhythm of someone counting steps.
Five.
Ten.
Fifteen.
At twenty, his stride shortened.
At thirty, his left leg dragged. He tried to fix it by turning his hips and failed. The wind found him and drove into the layers, took the heat from under the scarf, scraped through the seams where cloth met skin.
He lifted one hand in their direction and tried to wave.
Frost climbed his face from the edge of the scarf. The crystals thickened. The color went out of the cheek, then out of the eye.
His knees locked.
He swayed once.
He did not sway again.
In minutes the body shifted from moving thing to object. Breath stopped. Muscle stiffened. He tipped and fell, a slow, heavy fall, and landed with a dull crack that bounced across the flats and died.
Sera let the scope drop an inch. The wind pulled at her hair and found nothing to steal.
Good.
Let the weather teach a much kinder lesson.
She rose, turned, and went back down. Each step matched the next. Her jaw felt clean with fury.
They waited at the bottom of the stairwell.
Lachlan stood closest, still holding that golden spark like a boy with a match. Zubair’s posture was iron. Alexei lounged against the arm of the couch with humor sharp as a blade. Elias watched with the still focus of a man who preferred numbers to wishes.
Sera pressed the scope into Lachlan’s chest hard enough that he had to take it or let it fall. He took it.
"He’s dead," she announced before going over to the sink and washing her hands. "Froze in under five minutes and now looks like one of Alexei’s sculptures. It appears that humans can’t withstand the cold outside." Her voice did not rise. It did not need to. "Now. What does that tell you?"
His smile broke. His hands tightened across the tube of glass as if it might give him a different answer.
Sera’s eyes slid to Elias.
He did not flinch from the look. He did not check his notes. He did not reach for a thermometer he did not own. He held the line of her gaze, and something in his face changed as thought clicked into place.
"It tells me we aren’t human anymore," he answered, steady and clear. "We have been out there several times, and didn’t feel overly cold. I thought it was just because we were dressed properly. But if the other man froze..."
The words settled like weight on stone.
Lachlan’s mouth opened. No sound came out. He looked toward the stairs to the roof, then toward the covered windows, as if either view might argue for him.
Nothing moved.
Nothing helped him make sense of anything.
Alexei exhaled through his nose. "So the tower throws a man into winter and prays he walks on faith alone. Not much of a plan."
Zubair did not look away from Lachlan. "We took a vote, and you promise to abide by the decision. You had your orders. You broke them."
It landed harder than a shout. Lachlan’s shoulders dipped. The scope in his hands felt heavier now. His fingers shifted along the focus ring as if they could unwind the last five minutes and put them back.
Sera stepped closer until he had to lift his eyes or look at her boots. "You do that again," she told him, "and I throw you off the roof myself."
He swallowed once. Twice. The muscle in his jaw jumped.
"I thought—"