The Vault's corridors felt like a labyrinth of chaos as I stumbled out of the room where Farrah had been— where Farrah had died. My mind was reeling, heart racing with grief and fury. Every corner felt like a threat, every shadow ready to pull me into the same darkness that had consumed Farrah.
I couldn't stay here. I couldn't fall apart. Not yet.
I kept moving, my feet pounding the floor as I bolted through the narrow hallways. Faces blurred past me, shouts echoing in the distance. The chaos was thickening, and it was everywhere now—Vendors were yelling, people were on edge, and I could feel the walls of the Vault pressing in, ready to collapse. I had to find Marge. She'd know what was happening. She'd know what to do.
As I turned a corner, I saw a stall with a stack of clothes, an old man too busy arguing with another vendor to notice me. Without thinking, I snatched a shirt from the pile, wiping the blood off my face and hands as best as I could.
Farrah's blood. My stomach twisted as I wiped away the dark stains, feeling like I was erasing the last piece of her, but I couldn't run through the Vault covered in blood. I had to keep moving. Keep surviving.
I tossed the shirt to the side and pressed forward, my breath coming out in shallow gasps as I navigated the maze of corridors that led to the Isles. The further I went, the louder the chaos became, echoing in every corner, vibrating through the very structure of the Vault. Something had shifted—things were unraveling faster than I'd expected, faster than anyone could've anticipated. And I wasn't even sure if there was a way to stop it anymore.
By the time I reached the Isles, my legs were burning, my chest heaving, but I didn't stop. I pushed my way through the familiar haze of smoke and neon lights until I spotted Marge sitting behind her desk. But something was different. She wasn't her usual calm, collected self.
Marge looked… distressed.
Her normally sharp eyes were clouded, the cigarette in her hand barely hanging between her fingers. She stared at the papers scattered across her desk; her lips pressed into a thin line. She barely noticed me when I walked in.
"Marge." My voice cracked as I called out to her.
She looked up, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of me. "You're still alive?" Her voice held a note of disbelief, and I realized just how bad things had gotten. She hadn't expected to see me alive. Hell, maybe I shouldn't have been.
I nodded, breathless, wiping the last remnants of blood from my face with the back of my hand. "Aspen's lost it, Marge. She killed Farrah."
Marge's face fell, her fingers tightening around her cigarette. For a moment, she didn't speak, didn't move. Then she let out a slow, shaky breath. "I heard things were getting bad, but… Christ. Farrah was one of the good ones."
I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing myself to focus. "Where's Oliver? I need to find him."
Marge hesitated, glancing around like she was trying to make sense of the chaos. "The debtors are on lock-down," she said, her voice low. "The whole place is going to hell. Aspen still has allies—loyalists—and they're fighting back hard. They're causing the riots, turning people against Oliver's side. It's spread faster than we expected."
I gripped the edge of her desk, feeling the weight of her words. The Vault was falling apart, and Aspen wasn't going down without a fight. She was fighting to maintain control, and now it wasn't just political—it was a full-on battle.
"You should be careful, Lux," Marge added, her eyes narrowing as she looked me over. "Aspen's got more than a few people gunning for you now. I'm surprised she didn't finish you off. Are you sure you're not being followed?"
"She probably thought I was broken," I muttered, barely able to swallow the bile rising in my throat. "Or maybe she wants me alive so I can watch everything burn."
Marge let out a bitter laugh. "Wouldn't surprise me. She always did like playing with her food." I shook my head, pushing past the rising sense of dread. "Have you seen Oliver? Is he safe?"
Marge sighed, rubbing a hand across her face, clearly
rattled. "Last I heard, he's with a few of his guards, holed up in the west wing of the Vault, trying to work out some deals with the higher-ups. The players who actually matter. He's trying to calm the chaos, but it's not looking good."
My heart raced, anxiety gnawing at me. "Deals? What kind of deals?"
Marge gave me a hard look, her eyes narrowing. "Deals to keep people from jumping ship. If those high players turn on him, this whole thing will crumble faster than you can blink. He's trying to hold the line, but I don't know how much longer he can keep it up."
A cold wave of fear washed over me. Oliver was out there, trying to fix the mess I'd helped create, trying to pull the Vault back from the brink while Aspen's grip tightened. And now Farrah was gone. Aspen had made her move, and I didn't know how much longer we had until everything fell apart.
"Marge, what do I do?" I whispered, the weight of it all crashing down on me. "How do I stop this?"
She studied me for a long moment, the sharpness that usually defined her fading into something more uncertain. She took a slow drag from her cigarette, the smoke swirling between us as she exhaled, her lips pursed in thought.
"I don't know what to tell you," she said finally, her voice softer than I'd ever heard it. "This thing with Aspen… it's bigger than we thought. She's already made her move, and people are turning. The Vault is splitting apart faster than I can make sense of it."
Her words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, she looked almost… lost.
"If I had an answer for you, I'd give it," she continued, leaning back in her chair, tapping the cigarette against the ashtray with a sharp click. "But the truth is, I don't know what you should do. I've survived this long by knowing when to stay out of the way, but things are different now. This isn't just business anymore—this is war. And if I'm being honest with you… I'm not sure how it ends."
That admission shook me more than I wanted to admit. Marge was always so steady, so sure of everything. If even she didn't know what to do, what hope did I have?
She gave me a long, hard look, her eyes narrowing like she was trying to see through me, trying to figure out just how far I'd go. "If you're going to go after her," she said slowly, carefully, "then you better make damn sure you've thought it through. Aspen's ruthless. You saw what she did to Farrah. She'll do the same to you."
"I know," I whispered, swallowing hard, the image of Farrah's bloodied body still seared into my mind.
For a moment, we just sat there in silence, the weight of everything pressing down on us. Then, finally, Marge leaned forward, stubbing out her cigarette with a sharp twist of her wrist.
The reality of what I was about to do, what I was walking into, hit me like a sledgehammer. But I had no choice. I couldn't walk away now—not after everything.
Marge exhaled, a tired sound, her expression softening just a fraction. "I don't have any answers for you, but I do know one thing—Aspen's not going to go down without a fight."
I stood, my legs shaky beneath me, the weight of Marge's words settling deep in my chest. "Thanks, Marge."
She waved me off, her eyes dropping back to the mess of papers on her desk. "Don't thank me. Just… try not to die."
The idea hit me like a jolt of electricity as I left Marge's office, her words still ringing in my ears. Did I know what to do? Maybe not. But I had one card left to play, one last desperate shot that might just tip the scales in our favor.
Stag.
If I could get him to move his entire operation into the Vault, his guys—ruthless, violent, but loyal as hell—could overrun Aspen's crew. It was a long shot, though. Stag didn't exactly play well with others, especially when it came to territory. His operation was concentrated in the streets, and asking him to risk that, to uproot everything, wasn't going to be easy. But if I could convince him, if I could make him see what was at stake, he might just take the bait.
Still, the biggest hurdle wasn't Stag. It was getting out of the Vault in the first place. The chaos was growing by the minute. Oliver's allies were barely holding the line against Aspen's crew, and I didn't even know if I could make it past the door guards, let alone survive long enough to find Stag and make the deal.
But I had to try.
I took a deep breath and sprinted through the corridors, my heart pounding in my chest. I was running on adrenaline now, fear and determination driving my every step.
And then, suddenly, I saw him.
Oliver.
He was moving fast, his usual calm intensity shadowed by a growing urgency. His eyes found me, narrowing in concern as I skidded to a stop in front of him. For the first time in hours, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. He was okay. Still in the fight.
"Lux?" His voice was low but sharp. "Where the hell are you running to?"
"I—I have an idea," I stammered, trying to catch my breath. "But I don't have time to explain."
Oliver's hand shot out, grabbing my wrist with a firm but gentle grip. His eyes locked onto mine, and I could feel the intensity of his gaze pinning me in place. "No more secrets," he said, his voice low and serious. "Not between us."
I nodded, swallowing hard.
He signaled to his bodyguards, jerking his head toward the corridor. "Keep watch."
Without another word, Oliver pulled me toward a nearby office space, unlocking the door with a key from his coat. He shoved the door open, and we stepped inside, the noise of the Vault's chaos muffled behind the heavy metal door.
He turned to face me, his brow furrowed with tension. "My guys are trying to handle things out there, but we don't have enough of them. Aspen's got too many allies, and if this keeps up, we're going to lose control." His eyes searched mine, waiting for me to speak.
I hesitated for a moment, knowing how crazy this was going to sound, but I had to say it. "Stag. I think we should bring Stag and his crew into the Vault."
Oliver's reaction was immediate—his jaw clenched, and he took a sharp breath, his eyes narrowing. "You want to bring Stag into my Vault?"
"I know it's a risk," I said quickly, stepping closer to him, trying to explain. "But Stag's men are efficient. Ruthless, yes, but they get shit done. And Stag—he may be a shitbag, but he's predictable. I can negotiate with him. We can work out a deal that keeps him in line, and he can help us take down Aspen's men. We don't have enough people to hold the Vault, Oliver. You said it yourself."
Oliver ran a hand through his hair, pacing the small space, his face tight with frustration. "Stag's crew in the Vault? Do you realize what you're asking? He's a street kingpin. He'll want a piece of everything once he's in."
"I know that," I said, my voice firm, trying to keep him focused. "But we can control him. Stag isn't Aspen. He's not subtle, and he's not cunning. He's easy to manage as long as you keep him fed. This could work, Oliver.
He stopped pacing, his eyes locked onto mine, the weight of the decision pressing down on him. He was torn, I could see it. He wanted to fight Aspen his way, to maintain control, but the reality was sinking in. We were running out of options.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. "I don't like it. But… you're right. We don't have enough men."
I stepped closer, placing a hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm. "Let me help."
Oliver's eyes softened, and for a moment, he just looked at me—really looked at me—like he was seeing me for the first time. Slowly, he reached down and took my wrist, his fingers brushing over the violet bracelet I'd been wearing since the day he'd given it to me. Without a word, he snapped it off, the delicate chain falling to the ground.
Then, from his coat pocket, he pulled out a small wipe. I watched, frozen in place, as he carefully wiped the violet ink from my hand, erasing the mark of my past in one slow, deliberate motion.
When he finished, he tossed the wipe aside and leaned in, pressing his lips against mine in a soft, lingering kiss. His hand cradled the back of my head, pulling me close, and for a moment, everything else disappeared—the Vault, Aspen, Stag. It was just us.
When he pulled back, his voice was low and hoarse. "I trust you. But be careful." He paused, his eyes searching mine with an intensity that made my breath hitch. "Handle this mess you've helped make."
His grip on my wrist tightened slightly, anchoring me to the weight of his words. "And Lux," he added, his tone sharper now, leaving no room for argument, "if you can't get Stag to cut a deal—if you can't convince him to fall in line—don't bother coming back into the Vault. It's not safe for you here anymore."
I knew the risk he was taking by setting me free from the Vault. He wasn't just handing me power—he was handing me a choice. I could walk away from it all. Leave this city, its dark alleys and twisted loyalties, behind me. I could choose not to face Stag, not to come back, and let everything crumble into chaos. I could find a new city, build a new hustle, carve out a new life in alleys untouched by the shadows of Greyfield.
But deep down, I also knew I wouldn't. The Vault was in my blood now, tangled up in the mess of who I'd become. And Oliver… he trusted me, despite everything. That trust bound me as tightly as any chain, and though he'd given me the illusion of freedom, the weight of his faith in me felt heavier than any prison.
I left the office and made my way back into the corridors, the weight of what I had to do pressing down on me like a vice. The Vault was still in chaos, vendors shouting, deals falling apart, and somewhere out there, Aspen was tightening her grip.
But I had a plan now.
The streets outside the Vault were a contrast to the claustrophobic tension I'd just left behind. Here, the air felt almost open, even though the alleyways were narrow and lined with grime. Still, I didn't have time to take in the change of pace. I had one goal: get to Stag.
I ran, my boots slapping against the cracked pavement, heart racing. Everything depended on this. Oliver trusted me, and if I failed now, not only would Aspen take control of the Vault, but she'd also bleed the streets dry. Stag's operation was the only shot I had to fight back, and as much as I hated him, as much as I dreaded seeing his face again, I knew he was the key to turning the tide.
I reached Stag's office. My breath came in ragged gasps as I approached the steel door, my heart slamming in my chest. I knew what kind of man Stag was, and this wasn't going to be easy.
I pounded on the door, my fist meeting the cold metal with a series of dull thuds. The sound echoed in the empty street behind me. After a few moments, the door swung open, and one of Stag's goons—big, ugly, and bored— looked me up and down, sneering.
"Boss isn't taking visitors," he grunted, already moving to shut the door again.
I stepped forward, shoving my foot in the door before it could close. "He'll want to see me. It's Lux."
The goon hesitated, his sneer fading for a moment before he opened the door wider, gesturing for me to come inside. "Wait here."
The place reeked of stale smoke and sweat, the dim lighting casting everything in a hazy glow. I stood near the entrance, glancing around as I waited, my mind already running through what I was going to say. Stag wasn't the kind of man who responded well to threats or pleas. He respected power, deals that would benefit him—and nothing else.
A few minutes later, the goon returned. "Go on in."
I walked into Stag's office. Stag sat behind a grimy desk, his feet propped up on it, looking at me with a twisted grin, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and curiosity.
"Well, well, if it isn't Lux," he said, his voice dripping with condescension. "Didn't expect to see you back so soon, not after you ditched me for the Vault." He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the desk. "What's the matter?
Realize you're in over your head and need a place to run back to?"
I forced myself to stay calm, ignoring the jab. "I'm not here to ask for a job, Stag. I'm here to offer you a deal."
His eyebrows shot up, amusement flashing in his eyes. "A deal?" He laughed, the sound harsh and mocking. "And who exactly are you to be offering me deals, huh? Last time I checked, you were just one of Oliver's new little whores."
I gritted my teeth, keeping my composure even though the insult cut deeper than I wanted to admit. "That's not how it is. Things in the Vault are falling apart. Aspen's making a move, and if she takes control, she'll come after you next. She's already got her hands in some of your dealings inside the Vault, and when she's in charge, she'll squeeze you dry."
Stag's grin faded slightly, his eyes narrowing as he studied me. I had his attention now. I pressed on.
"If you move your operation into the Vault—your business, your runners, your guards—you'll have the upper hand. You'll get a cut in the profits. Work directly with Oliver. You'll have more power and influence, not just in the streets, but inside the Vault too."
Stag leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "And why the hell would I do that? I've got control out here. I don't need to get mixed up in that mess inside the Vault."
"You will if Aspen takes over," I shot back, stepping closer to the desk. "You know how she works. She's a control freak. She'll start pushing out anyone who isn't under her thumb, and that includes you. She's already making moves in the Vault's underground markets, and soon she'll take over the streets."
Stag stared at me for a long moment, his eyes cold and calculating. Then he barked out a short laugh. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. But why the hell should I trust you? What's stopping me from telling Aspen everything you've just said and letting her deal with you?"
I forced myself to stay calm, knowing I was walking a tightrope here. "Because Aspen's bleeding people dry, and you're smarter than that. You don't want to be on the losing side, and right now, Aspen's side is crumbling. People are turning against her. But with you and your men backing Oliver, we can take back control. You'll make more money, have more influence, and you'll still run your operations in the streets. I can help you bridge the gap. Keep things running smoothly."
Stag was silent for a long moment, tapping his fingers on the edge of the desk as he considered my words. I held my breath, waiting for his response, knowing that everything hinged on this moment.
Finally, he leaned forward, a slow, dangerous grin spreading across his face. "You were always a little shit to deal with, but you know how to get things done. I'll give you that." He chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "Alright. I'll bite. But if this deal turns out to be bullshit, I'll kill you myself."
He pushed himself up from the desk, towering over me, his grin fading as he walked toward the back of the room. "Sit tight. I've got a call to make."
I watched as he disappeared into a side room, my heart pounding in my chest. I'd gotten him to agree, but now I had to see if he'd actually follow through. The minutes dragged by, my nerves fraying with each passing second, but I forced myself to stay calm.
When Stag returned, his expression was unreadable, but there was a glint in his eye that told me I'd won—at least for now.
"My guys will be at the Vault soon," he said, his voice low and commanding. "You better be ready, Lux, because if this goes sideways you'll regret dragging me into this."
I nodded, a mixture of relief and anxiety washing over me. I'd gotten what I came for, but the real battle was just beginning. Stag's men would be the reinforcements we needed, but I had to get back to the Vault, and I had to do it fast.