Marco woke to the sound of a heartbeat.
Not his own—though he could feel that too, steady and strong despite everything. This was someone else's. Close. Rhythmic. Calm.
He opened his eyes slowly, keeping his breathing even. Don't show weakness. Don't show fear. Assess the situation first.
White ceiling. Fluorescent lights, dimmed low. Medical equipment on a cart nearby—sterile, professional, expensive. The bed beneath him was comfortable, the sheets clean. Temperature controlled. Quiet.
Not a hospital. Too secure. Too isolated.
A base. Their base.
The heartbeat belonged to a woman sitting in a chair beside his bed. Small, compact, with sharp eyes that were currently focused on a tablet. She wore simple clothes—no uniform, no suit—but there was something precise about her movements. Clinical.
Medical personnel.
Marco's mind raced through his options. He looked for something, anything to use. Escape was in his mind. His body ached—ribs sore, face still stinging from the scratch, muscles exhausted—but he could move. No restraints. No guards visible. Just her.
Either they were confident he wouldn't try anything, or they wanted him to feel comfortable enough to talk.
Probably both.
The woman looked up from her tablet, meeting his eyes. No surprise. She'd known he was awake.
"Good morning," she said. Her voice was calm, professional. "I'm Violet. How are you feeling?"
Marco didn't answer immediately. He studied her instead. No visible weapons. No purple suit activated. But her posture was relaxed—too relaxed. She wasn't afraid of him.
That meant either she was very good, or there were people nearby who could handle him if he tried anything.
Again, probably both.
"Where am I?" Marco asked, his voice hoarse.
"Para D medical facility." Violet stood, moving to the cart. She picked up a stethoscope. "I need to check your vitals. May I?"
It wasn't really a question. But the courtesy was noted.
Marco nodded slightly.
Violet approached, pressing the stethoscope to his chest. Her movements were efficient, practiced. She listened for a moment, then moved it to different positions. A shadow passed over the door. People definitely.
"Heart rate elevated but stable," she said, more to herself than to him. "Breathing normal. No signs of internal bleeding."
She pulled back, checking his pupils with a small light. "Any dizziness? Nausea? Blurred vision?"
"No."
"Headache?"
"A little."
"Scale of one to ten?"
"Three."
Violet made a note on her tablet. "The scratch on your face is healing well. I cleaned and treated it while you were unconscious. No infection. Should scar minimally if you keep it clean."
Marco's hand went to his face instinctively, feeling the bandage there.
"Your ribs are bruised but not broken," Violet continued. "You took several impacts during the explosion, but your positioning in the bathtub protected you from the worst of it. You're lucky."
Lucky. That word again.
Marco had heard it his whole life. Lucky breaks. Lucky timing. Lucky outcomes. Things just seemed to work out for him more often than they should.
Now he knew why.
"Can I sit up?" he asked.
"Yes. Slowly."
Marco pushed himself upright, ignoring the protest from his sore muscles. The room came into clearer focus—small, secure, one door with a keypad lock. No windows. Cameras in the corners.
Definitely a holding cell. Just a nicer one.
"Where are my clothes?" Marco asked.
"Being cleaned. You'll get them back." Violet gestured to a chair against the wall where a set of simple gray clothes sat folded. "Para D standard issue for now. They'll fit."
"And my father?"
"Doesn't know where you are." Violet's tone was matter-of-fact. "The Stack collapsed. Emergency services found bodies. As far as the Saint Patro knows, you're either dead or missing."
Marco processed that. His father would be mobilizing every resource to find him. The entire organization would be on high alert.
Which meant he had limited time before this became a much bigger problem.
"How long have I been here?" he asked.
"About six hours." Violet checked her tablet. "You were unconscious for most of it. Exhaustion, shock, and paradox energy depletion. Your ability manifested for the first time under extreme stress. That takes a toll."
She looked at him directly. "Speaking of which—have you experienced any unusual sensations since waking? Tingling? Heat? Pressure?"
Marco thought about it. There was something—a faint sensation in his chest, like static electricity just beneath his skin. Not uncomfortable, just… present.
"A little," he admitted. "Like something's buzzing."
"That's your paradox energy stabilizing. Normal for new manifestations." Violet made another note. "It'll fade as your body adjusts. Don't try to use your ability until we've assessed you properly."
"And if I do?"
"You could hurt yourself. Or someone else. Your control is nonexistent right now."
Marco filed that away. Limited options, then. No suit. No ability he could reliably use. Surrounded by people who knew what they were doing.
He needed information.
"The two who rescued me," Marco said. "The purple suit and the red one. Are they here?"
"Kínitos and Monti. Yes."
"And the man in white? The woman who could float?"
"Gone. For now."
Marco absorbed that. "They were after me. Specifically."
It wasn't a question, but Violet answered anyway. "We don't know their full objectives. But yes, you were a target."
"Why?"
"That's what we'd like to ask you."
The door opened.
A man walked in—tall, wearing dark clothes, his expression unreadable. Marco recognized him immediately from the stairwell. The one who'd arrived with blue flames. The leader.
Jade.
Behind him, two women entered. One with dark hair and sharp eyes who moved with casual confidence. The other smaller, also sharp-eyed, carrying herself like she missed nothing.
Vex and someone else. Maybe another medical person.
No. The way Vex positioned herself, the way she studied him—she was here to read him. To catch lies.
Marco kept his expression neutral.
Jade stopped at the foot of the bed, hands in his pockets. "Marco Delgado. Son of Vincent Delgado, heir to the Saint Patro organization. Three months ago you were in Prague on business. Two weeks ago you brokered a weapons deal in District 7. Last night you were at The Stack overseeing a transaction when everything went to hell."
He tilted his head slightly. "How am I doing so far?"
Marco said nothing.
"Your father runs one of the most powerful criminal enterprises in the city," Jade continued. "Trafficking, extortion, weapons distribution. And now we know you're a paradox user. Parrondo's paradox. Probability manipulation."
Jade leaned against the wall. "So here's the situation. You're alive because two of my people risked their lives to save you. The Saint Patro thinks you're dead or missing. And we have questions."
He met Marco's eyes directly. "You can cooperate and we can have a civil conversation. Or this can be difficult. Your choice."
Marco calculated. These people had saved him. They could have left him to die, but they didn't. That meant something.
But they were also holding him. Interrogating him. They had their own agenda.
He needed to figure out what they wanted. And how much he could give them without compromising his father's organization.
Or himself.
"What do you want to know?" Marco asked finally.
Jade smiled slightly. "Let's start with the woman. The one you were torturing on the sixth floor of The Stack."
Marco's expression didn't change, but inside, his mind went cold.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said.
Vex's eyes narrowed slightly.
And Marco realized—with a sinking feeling—that she'd just caught him in his first lie.