Chapter 5 Blood Ties

Aria sat frozen in front of the screen long after the video ended, the final frame burned into her vision.

The man's blood-soaked face. The moment he looked into the camera like he knew someone was watching. Like he knew she would see it one day.

She closed the folder. Wiped the access logs clean. Deleted the local temp data.

Then stood and walked out of the office without saying a word.

She didn't take the elevator. She needed air.

The forty-second floor stairwell was cold and echoing, and she didn't stop moving until she reached the sky terrace on the executive level. The doors opened to a quiet rooftop garden with hedges trimmed like they guarded state secrets and a view that could crack your heart open.

She leaned against the stone railing, breathing hard.

She was in too deep.

Or maybe not deep enough.

Her fingers trembled as she opened her phone. She pulled up an old research app she used for freelance investigations, then typed in the name she hadn't dared say out loud:

Charles Vale.

Cassian's father.

The name brought up dozens of results press releases, board awards, old features in Forbes and Business Insider. But buried halfway down was an old tabloid article from six years ago.

Vale Heir Splits From Family Over Internal Scandal Source Claims "He Wanted Out."

There was a photo.

Killian Vale.

Cassian's older brother.

Dark-haired, sharp-featured. Similar bone structure but with a look that didn't try to hide the anger under the surface.

He left the company. Publicly. Quietly. Two years before Aria's life fell apart.

She clicked deeper. He hadn't been seen publicly in almost three years.

Which meant he was either gone...

Or hiding.

She copied the last known address she could find a PO box linked to a charity he once funded. It wasn't much, but it was something.

The name echoed in her head long after she closed her browser.

Killian Vale.

Cassian's older brother.

The one who walked away.

The one no one talked about.

Aria sat in a coffee shop across from Bryant Park, hood up, headphones in but no music playing. Her laptop glowed in front of her, a burner email client open, cursor blinking like a silent dare.

She hadn't sent a message to a ghost in years.

And that's what Killian was a ghost.

According to the database she cracked into using one of Nova's tools, the PO box listed to his name hadn't been checked in over six months. His last financial footprint was a wire transfer to an offshore NGO. No public photos. No social media. Nothing but silence.

Until last week.

A flagged report from a private surveillance firm noted a sighting: Killian, near the Upper West Side, stepping into a building owned by a shell company one linked to Vale Corp's abandoned real estate division.

He came back.

Quietly. Privately. For something.

And if anyone knew the truth about Project Blackbird, or Charles Vale's buried crimes...

It was the brother who walked away.

Aria typed quickly.

Subject: Your Name Is Still a Threat

From: UNKNOWN

Body:

I don't want to expose you. I just want answers.

You know what Blackbird means.

I saw the footage.

I'm not the only one asking questions

I'll be at the West 87th Street building tomorrow.

3 p.m.

Come alone.

Or don't come at all.

She hit send before she could change her mind.

The moment it disappeared, her stomach flipped.

She was inviting danger closer. But it was already in the room. Always had been.

When she returned to her desk, Cassian was already waiting.

Not in her office.

But leaning against the frame of the door across the hall, arms folded, shirt sleeves rolled, jaw tight.

She'd felt him watching her since she came back from the coffee shop.

Now he wasn't hiding it.

"Ms. Quinn," he said, voice calm but laced with warning. "You've had a productive morning."

Aria didn't stop moving. She placed her bag on the desk, powered up her terminal, controlled every breath.

"Is that an observation or a concern?"

"Depends what you've been producing."

She looked at him. "If you want to know, just ask."

He stepped into her office, closing the glass door behind him with a whisper of sound. The walls sealed them into silence.

He didn't sit.

"I don't like being tested," he said. "And I don't like being watched."

"Then you should have someone check your internal comms system," Aria replied, cool. "It's more porous than it looks."

Cassian's eyes narrowed slightly surprised. He wasn't used to people pushing back.

Aria stood slowly. "If you're here to accuse me of something, just do it. Otherwise, I have work."

He moved closer.

Not threatening. Not quite.

But deliberate.

"You've been moving differently today," he said. "Looking over your shoulder. Leaving the building. Coming back without explanation."

"I wasn't aware I needed to log bathroom breaks."

"You didn't look like someone taking a break."

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Are you always this involved in employee schedules?"

Cassian didn't smile back.

"You've seen something," he said. "You're chasing something."

Aria's pulse jumped, but she didn't let it show.

"And if I am?"

"I'd advise you to stop."

There it was. Not a threat. Not quite a warning. But close enough.

"You think that scares me?" she asked.

"I think it should."

Aria stepped forward until only a breath remained between them.

"Then maybe you should ask yourself why I'm not scared of you."

Cassian stared at her. No smirk. No comeback.

Just that piercing gray gaze, dissecting her piece by piece.

"Whatever you're looking for," he said finally, "there's still time to walk away."

"And if I don't?"

His voice dropped to something dark and low.

"Then you better be ready for what you find."

Aria sat at her terminal long after Cassian left, her body still humming from the confrontation.

Every word he'd spoken replayed in her mind. Every flicker in his expression. Every syllable he didn't say.

He knew something.

But he didn't know everything.

Yet.

She checked her burner email again. No reply. She hadn't really expected one not from a man like Killian Vale. A man who vanished so hard even the internet couldn't find him.

She stood, stretched, walked to the floor's corner alcove for coffee she wouldn't drink. Anything to feel like she still had control.

When she returned, her screen had gone black.

But a single message flashed in white.

From: Unknown (Secure Access Only)

Subject: You're Playing a Dangerous Game

I know what you saw.

I know who you are.

You want answers?

Come alone.

West 87th. Top floor. Back entrance.

3:00 PM tomorrow.

Don't tell Cassian.

Don't bring your phone.

If you're followed don't come in.

No name. No sign-off. But she didn't need one.

She could feel the energy behind the words.

Killian Vale had responded.

And he was watching her, too.

She stared at the screen long after the message disappeared.

Her reflection looked back at her in the monitor dim, ghostlike. For a second, she saw the girl she used to be. Eighteen. Shaking. Covered in someone else's blood. Believing that silence meant safety.

That version of her would have run.

This one?

She was going in.

Alone.

No Nova.

No warning to Cassian.

No back door out.

Because if Killian Vale had the answers if he'd broken away from all this and survived he might be the only person left who could help her understand what happened the night everything changed.

The night someone tried to erase her.

She closed the email, shut down her machine, and stood.

Outside her office, the world moved like it didn't care. Phones rang. Suits walked by. Laughter echoed from a break room down the hall.

All of it meaningless.

She pulled her jacket tight, slid her burner phone into the lining, and walked toward the elevator like nothing had changed.

But everything had.

Because now she knew two things for certain:

1. Killian was alive.

2. Someone else didn't want her finding him.

She hit the elevator button.

And didn't look back.