Adrian's breath caught. For a moment, he forgot the danger, forgot Caldwell's yells and the thudding boots. All he could do was stare at the face he knew behind the sliding mask.
It couldn't be.
"It's you," he breathed.
The intruder froze in their step, as though the recognition cut like a knife. In a swift motion, the mask was secured back in place, scrubbing across the face, but too late. Adrian's world whirled.
"Adrian, run!" Ava screamed, pulling on his arm.
Caldwell shifted between them and the intruders, using a heavy iron rod she had pulled from the crates. She fought with surprising ferocity, but there were too many. The twins had seconds before the room was breached.
Adrian's mind ran fast. If that intruder was who he guessed, then all of what Caldwell had told them about enemies, about their parents might be entirely different.
The stairs stretched out before them, whispering softly below.
"Down!" Caldwell snarled, pushing one of the intruders back with a vicious punch. "Now, before it's too late!"
Ava didn't dawdle. She pulled Adrian towards the stairs. He wavered, between the truth he wanted and the survival they needed. The familiar intruder looked at him the last time, something unspoken passing between them caution, regret, or threat, he couldn't read.
They staggered into the stairwell, darkness around them.
The noises below swelled, louder, clearer. No longer whispers chants. Low, rhythmic, and sinister.
Ava's hands curled into fists. "Adrian… what is this place?"
They struck the bottom step, and the room gave onto a vast underground chamber. Dozens of black-robed figures stood in a circle, candles flickering in their hands. In the center of the circle was a table and on it, one thing that made Ava's knees turn to water.
A silver-framed photograph.
Of their parents.
And beneath the photograph, in thick black ink, two words were scrawled across the table:
THE HEIRS.
Adrian's heart thudded in his ears as the flame dance added dark shadows to the secreted hall. The chanting robed figures didn't look up, as if the twins were ghosts.
Ava's breathing shook. "What is this. a cult?"
Caldwell snuck in behind them, breathless from the fight above. "Not a cult. A circle. Your parents built it to protect what was most precious.".
Adrian whirled around on her, fury smoldering. "Protect us? They vanished. We were hostages raising ourselves in that penthouse. And now you bring us here, to this?"
Caldwell's eyes flashed to the photograph on the table. "Because they knew the day would arrive when you had to step into their shoes."
The words dropped like leaden weights in Adrian's stomach.
"Step into their shoes?" Ava's voice shattered. "What are you saying?"
Before Caldwell could reply, the chanting stopped.
One at a time, the hooded figures lifted their faces. Shadows covering their faces, their eyes glowed with a silvery sheen. And then, as if choreographed, they all turned and looked at the twins.
Adrian's hand instinctively grasped Ava's.
A deep, commanding voice rang out of the ring. "The heirs have come."
The others stepped aside, revealing a tall man at the far end of the hall. He approached, loosening his hood. His face was gaunt but familiar, his eyes sharp and burning with recognition.
Ava gasped, stepping back one pace.
Because the man's face was burned into her mind.
Not from legend, not from dreams.
From photographs.
"Father?" she breathed.
Adrian stood still, his muscles taut. The impossible faced them.
But Caldwell's rapid inhalation was changed not joy, not relief.
It was fear.
"Run," she breathed, in a whisper.
Ava's whisper still hung. Father.
The man's eyes softened for a moment, and his lips curled into the faintest smile. "My children," he said, his voice hard, weighed down by the weight of recognition.
Adrian's stomach roiled. He wanted to run to him, to trust but Caldwell's grip on his shoulder turned into a vice.
"That's not your father."
Ava's own breath stopped. "What do you mean? He looks just"
"Because that's the idea," Caldwell snarled behind her veil. "They want you to think so. They'll stop at nothing to get you to come."
The man stepped forward, the circle of hooded individuals spreading out as if to make room for the twins. "I see that you doubt. I see that you do not have faith. But you were never left behind. Everything that was done your imprisonment, your isolation it was all preparation."
Adrian shook his head wildly. "Prepare us for what?"
The man's smile increased, but never reached his eyes. "To claim what's yours. To finish what your parents started.".
The circle began to chant again, a low rhythmic sound. The sound burrowed into Ava's bones. She felt it in her chest, her heart pounding in sympathy against her will.
Caldwell yanked them back from the stairs, voice sharp with terror. "We don't have time for this. Get out!"
But two figures in hoods blocked their path, moving silently into place.
Ava's chest constricted. Forward was the only direction left toward the man who wore their father's face.
The chanting grew, echoing off the stone walls. The candles swirled madly, as if the air itself were alive with menace.
The man extended his hand. "Come, children. The truth waits for no one."
Adrian's heart lurched. Ava's hand trembled within his.
And then, from above somewhere
There was a shot.
The chanting stopped. The candles expired.
Darkness swallowed them whole.