Page 99

Cause: Loss of infrastructure following Saint-Clair eradication.

“What the fuck?” The words slipped free.

My mind fractured. Raced. Saint-Clair? I shoved the chair back hard and leaned over the desk, turning the volume up as though this would help the horror sink in. It never did.

The downpour of rain in my head was deafening. Smoke clashed with fog. Grey and white and billowing.

“Please.”

I looked down. He wasn’t Malcom Saint-Clair anymore. Not the untouchable man from the newspapers. Not the architect. Not the kingmaker. Just a bleeding man in the mud. His face pale. Eyes wide and dark. Blood seeped through his white shirt stuck hard to his side. A bullet wound. But it wasn’t the end. I lifted the gas can in my hand. The last half of it saved for him.

“Alaric, for God’s sake!”

I just stared at him. Feeling nothing. Just inevitability. I lifted my hand. The stench of fuel suffocating. Heat roared like a hungry beast behind me. My hand never shook as I tilted the can, pouring the rest over him. It splashed against his chest and ran down his arms. Bang. The can hit the ground at my feet. I lifted the matches. The match scraped. Fire bloomed. Malcom Saint-Clair started screaming before it touched him.

“M-my ch-children weren’t involved.” He begged.

I stilled. Breathed. “Neither was my daughter.” Then struck.

Operational Assessment. House of Ash achieved primary objectives. Collateral consequences remain ongoing.

Additional Daughter acquisitions approved. Project increase: thirty-two percent. Containment capacity exceeded. Expansion recommended. Additional containment sites authorised. Facility Seven. Facility Nine. Facility Twelve.

Wait.

Facility Nine?

My damn hands shook when I picked up my cell. “Files. Rafe Reports.”

I scrolled. Missed. My mind racing. My damn fingers wouldn’t work. “Fuck.”

I clenched my fist, then tried once more. Where is it? Where the fuck is it?

There.

I hit the button and listened. Nyssa’s recovery. The injuries she sustained.

“Facility Nine.” Rafe spoke in the record.

Facility Nine.

I shook my head.

I stopped breathing.

The room tilted.

I reached out. Grasped the table.

Recommended response: Immediate recovery of all unregistered Daughters. Increase physical compliance measures.

The report continued speaking.

I never heard another word.

Saint-Clair.

House of Ash.