Chapter 51 – Ashes and Answers
Chapter 51 – Ashes and Answers
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The waves rocked violently against the boat, the scent of salt and adrenaline thick in the air. A storm threatened the sky above them, casting jagged streaks of lightning across the sea as Damon stood at the helm, eyes fixed on the approaching island—Leonhart’s final haven.
Beside him, Aurora gripped the railing tighter than she needed to. Her knuckles were white, but her eyes didn’t waver.
“How far out are we?” Luca called over the wind, shielding his eyes.
“Less than a mile,” Damon said flatly.
Celeste clutched her earpiece, adjusting the signal. “Satellite’s patchy. We lose contact in ten. Whatever we do, we do fast.”
There was no need for further words.
---
The island wasn’t guarded in the traditional sense—no towers, no armed men on patrol. Instead, it was fortified with silence. The kind that made every crack of twig underfoot sound like a gunshot. The facility ahead loomed out of the darkness like a scar carved into the earth. Metal doors rusted but still functional. Lights flickered inside like a warning.
“Split into two teams,” Damon ordered. “Luca and Celeste, take the north wing. Aurora, you’re with me.”
No one argued.
Not now.
---
The halls smelled of antiseptic and secrets.
Damon led with a flashlight while Aurora held her breath against the nausea building in her gut. The place felt dead, but she knew it was worse than death. It was memory. And for Damon, it was hell.
“I remember this corridor,” he muttered. “They kept us locked up in Room 7.”
Aurora paused. “You don’t have to go back in there.”
“I do,” he replied without hesitation. “If Silas is still here, we need to find him.”
They reached the heavy door. Damon pushed it open slowly, every muscle taut with tension. The room was empty.
But not clean.
Chains dangled from the walls. Burn marks stained the floor. Aurora’s breath hitched.
Then she saw it—etched crudely into the concrete wall.
We are not forgotten.
Beneath it: S.
“Silas,” Damon whispered. His voice cracked for just a second. Then, the stoicism returned.
He turned on his heel. “He’s alive.”
---
Meanwhile, Celeste and Luca moved through the northern wing with silent coordination. A sudden clatter behind them made Luca raise his weapon—but it was only a cat darting from a broken window.
“Remind me to shoot the next shadow that jumps at us,” Celeste muttered.
“You said that two shadows ago,” Luca quipped.
Despite the tension, they both chuckled softly. But their humor froze as they turned a corner and found a door glowing red.
A keypad blinked beside it.
Celeste leaned in. “This one’s still active.”
Luca frowned. “Whatever’s behind this… Leonhart doesn’t want just anyone finding it.”
They exchanged a look.
Celeste took a breath and entered the code Damon had recovered from the Geneva files.
4-0-1-7.
The door clicked. Then creaked open.
---
Back in the west wing, Damon and Aurora entered what appeared to be a command center—rows of screens blinking with surveillance feeds.
One of them showed live footage.
Silas.
Strapped to a chair in a small cell, head down but unmistakably alive.
Aurora gasped. “We found him.”
Damon’s eyes darkened. “No. We will find him. And we end this tonight.”
As he spoke, a soft voice echoed from behind.
“Impressive… to make it this far.”
They turned.
A man in a lab coat stepped out from the shadows, clapping slowly. He was clean-shaven, handsome even, with a presence that felt… wrong.
“I was wondering how long it would take before we finally met, Damon.”
“Who are you?” Damon’s voice was low, dangerous.
“Elijah Voss,” the man said with a smile. “Bioengineer. Advisor. Lover of classical art and controlled chaos.”
Damon’s jaw clenched. “You work for Leonhart.”
“Work for?” Elijah raised a brow. “Sweetheart, I am Leonhart.”
Aurora’s eyes widened. “You—”
He held up a hand. “But not the Leonhart you expected. I go by many names. The one you know is only a vessel. A mask.”
He stepped closer.
“You and your brother were just prototypes. The real project… is still in motion.”
Damon drew his gun. “Where is Silas?”
Elijah’s smile faded. “He’s alive. Barely. But you’re not here to save him, are you? You’re here to erase me. To feel powerful again.”
Aurora’s voice was sharp. “You hurt him. You hurt children. And you dare call it a project?”
Elijah turned to her, face softening with mock sympathy. “You poor thing. Still trying to be the moral compass of a man with no true north.”
Damon stepped forward, the barrel of the gun inches from Elijah’s chest. “Try me.”
But Elijah only smiled again.
“You won’t shoot. You need me. Because I’m the only one who knows what was done to Silas… and how to undo it.”
The tension snapped like a whip.
Then—BOOM.
An explosion rocked the far wing.
---
Luca and Celeste were thrown to the ground as fire erupted behind them.
“Ambush!” Luca shouted, shielding Celeste as debris rained down.
The hallway filled with smoke. Figures in gas masks emerged from the haze—Leonhart’s mercenaries.
“Move!” Celeste fired a shot, hitting one in the leg.
They ran, ducking into a side room and barricading the door.
“We’re outnumbered,” Luca said breathlessly.
Celeste smirked. “Then it’s a fair fight.”
---
Back in the command center, Elijah used the blast as cover. He ducked behind a column and hit a switch—alarms screamed to life.
Damon grabbed Aurora’s hand. “We find Silas. Then we finish this.”
They raced through the smoke-filled corridors. Every hallway felt like a trap. Every corner a risk. But Damon didn’t stop.
His strength wasn’t in his rage—it was in his resolve.
They reached the cellblock and found Silas unconscious but breathing. Damon ripped the restraints free and pulled his brother into his arms.
“I’ve got you,” he said, voice shaking.
But as they turned to leave, another door opened.
Elijah stood there, bloody but smiling.
“Leaving so soon?”
Behind him, another shadow emerged. A taller man, face hidden beneath a hood. His voice was deeper, colder.
“You played your part well, Elijah. But the curtain falls now.”
Even Elijah blinked. “What are you—?”
The hooded man shot him in the chest.
Elijah crumpled.
The figure turned to Damon. “Tell your father hello.”
Then vanished into smoke.
---
They escaped by dawn, the facility collapsing behind them. The island burned.
Damon didn’t speak on the boat ride back. He held Silas the entire way, eyes never leaving the horizon.
Aurora sat beside him, silent. But her hand found his, fingers intertwining.
They didn’t know who the man in the hood was. Or what his message meant.
But one thing was clear:
The enemy had layers.
And the final war had just begun.