Chapter 64: The Things We Break For

The image wouldn’t disappear.

No matter how many times the screen flickered.

No matter how many alarms sounded aboard the ship.

No matter how many people spoke around her.

Allison still saw her mother’s face.

Bound to a chair.

Terrified.

Helpless.

Susanna Croft.

The woman who never cried.

The woman who always had perfect hair, perfect posture, perfect control.

The woman who somehow made even silence feel elegant.

She looked terrified.

And Allison couldn’t breathe.

The operations room aboard the federal vessel buzzed with activity around her.

People moved.

Phones rang.

Screens flashed.

Orders were shouted.

Yet everything felt distant.

Muted.

Like she was underwater.

Like she was trapped beneath glass watching the world continue without her.

The image replayed in her head again.

Her mother’s eyes.

The fear.

The uncertainty.

The trembling in her hands.

And suddenly Allison wasn’t twenty-two anymore.

She was eight.

Curled up in bed after a nightmare.

Listening to her parents argue downstairs.

Convinced something terrible was happening.

Waiting for her mother to come check on her.

Waiting for proof everything was okay.

Waiting for safety.

The panic hit all at once.

Not gradually.

Not politely.

Violently.

Her chest tightened.

Her pulse accelerated.

The room tilted slightly.

Air became impossible.

Too little.

Too much.

Not enough.

Something.

Anything.

Her hands started shaking.

Hard.

Nobody noticed immediately.

Everyone was too busy.

Except Lucian.

Of course.

Lucian noticed everything.

He was across the room discussing logistics with Roman when he saw it.

The way her shoulders had locked.

The way her breathing had shortened.

The way her eyes stopped focusing.

He knew instantly.

And suddenly he wasn’t listening to Roman anymore.

Or Harold.

Or Theo.

Or anyone.

He was moving.

Fast.

By the time Allison realized he was there, he was already kneeling in front of her chair.

"Allison."

She blinked.

His voice sounded far away.

Strange.

Distorted.

Like she was hearing it through water.

"Allison."

Again.

Closer.

More firm.

She tried speaking.

Nothing came out.

Lucian’s stomach dropped.

Because he recognized this.

Not from experience.

From observation.

Years of boardrooms.

Hospitals.

Funerals.

People breaking under pressure.

This wasn’t sadness.

This was panic.

The real kind.

The ugly kind.

The kind that stole oxygen and logic simultaneously.

"Hey."

His voice softened.

Just enough.

"Look at me."

She couldn’t.

The screen behind him still showed the frozen image of her mother.

Bound.

Terrified.

And all Allison could think was—

I wasn’t there.

The thought repeated endlessly.

Like a knife.

I wasn’t there.

When Anthony humiliated her.

Her mother wasn’t there.

When she got married.

Her mother wasn’t there.

When everything fell apart.

Her mother wasn’t there.

And now—

Now her mother needed her.

And she wasn’t there either.

Something cracked.

A small sound escaped her throat.

Half laugh.

Half sob.

Lucian immediately reached for her hands.

Both of them.

His were warm.

Steady.

Real.

"Look at me."

This time she did.

Barely.

But she did.

And suddenly the room sharpened.

Just a little.

Enough to see concern in his eyes.

Enough to see fear.

Not for himself.

For her.

The realization hurt.

Because Anthony used to look at her that way.

Or she thought he did.

Now she wasn’t sure any of it had been real.

Lucian saw the thought happen.

Actually saw it.

Because her face changed.

Her eyes shifted.

And suddenly he knew exactly where her mind had gone.

Anthony.

Again.

Always Anthony.

The ghost neither of them could quite kill.

His jaw tightened.

Not at her.

Never at her.

At Anthony.

At the damage he’d left behind.

At the fact that even now, weeks later, Allison still looked surprised when someone stayed.

"Talk to me."

The words came quietly.

Patiently.

Like he had all night.

All week.

All year.

She laughed again.

A shaky sound.

"I can’t."

"Try."

"My mom is kidnapped."

Her voice broke.

Hard.

The room quieted slightly.

People were beginning to notice.

Theo stopped talking.

Roman looked over.

Harold lowered his phone.

Nobody interrupted.

Because this wasn’t strategy anymore.

This was family.

"My mom is kidnapped," Allison repeated.

Tears finally appearing.

"I can’t save her."

Lucian squeezed her hands.

"You’re helping save her."

"No."

Her head shook violently.

"You don’t understand."

The tears came faster now.

Years of pressure.

Years of pretending.

Years of carrying everything alone.

All breaking loose simultaneously.

"Everybody keeps getting hurt."

The room remained silent.

"Anthony."

A breath.

"Clara."

Another.

"My mom."

Her voice cracked.

"What if it’s my fault?"

Lucian’s expression hardened immediately.

"No."

The answer came instantly.

Absolute.

Certain.

No hesitation.

Allison laughed bitterly.

"How do you know?"

"Because Anthony chose to cheat."

His voice sharpened.

"Vivienne chose to lie."

Another.

"Aaron chose this."

Another.

"The Architect chose this."

His grip tightened.

"You are not responsible for the decisions other people make."

The room was dead silent now.

Because Lucian wasn’t just talking to Allison anymore.

He was talking to himself too.

Talking to every version of himself that carried guilt for things he couldn’t control.

Allison looked away.

"I should’ve seen Anthony."

Lucian exhaled slowly.

There it was.

The real wound.

Not her mother.

Not the kidnapping.

Not the conspiracy.

The betrayal.

Still bleeding.

Still infected.

Still alive.

"Allison."

His voice lowered.

She looked back reluctantly.

Lucian held her gaze.

Steady.

Unmoving.

"You loved someone."

The words landed softly.

"That’s not a mistake."

Her eyes immediately filled.

Because nobody had said that.

Not once.

Everyone else called her strong.

Resilient.

Smart.

Capable.

Nobody acknowledged that she’d lost something.

Even if that something turned out to be fake.

Lucian continued quietly.

"You believed him."

She swallowed hard.

"Yeah."

His jaw tightened.

"That’s his failure."

Not yours.

The sentence hung between them.

Heavy.

Dangerous.

Because Allison wanted to believe it.

Desperately.

But believing meant letting go of blame.

And blame felt easier than grief.

Lucian saw the war happening behind her eyes.

Saw the hesitation.

Saw the fear.

And something inside him finally snapped.

Not anger.

Restraint.

Months of restraint.

Weeks of restraint.

Days of watching her suffer.

Enough.

He stood suddenly.

The room startled.

Then he crossed to the monitor.

The image of Susanna still filled the screen.

Lucian grabbed the remote.

Turned it off.

Immediately.

The room went dark.

Harold blinked.

Theo looked surprised.

Roman looked impressed.

Allison stared.

"What are you doing?"

Lucian turned back toward her.

"Because staring at the image isn’t helping."

The room froze.

Nobody spoke.

Because that was a dangerous thing to say.

To anyone else.

But not Allison.

Never Allison.

His voice softened.

"You know your mom."

She nodded.

"Then you know what she’d say if she saw you falling apart."

A pause.

Then despite herself—

Allison laughed through tears.

Because she knew.

Exactly.

Susanna would tell her to stop crying.

Fix her mascara.

Drink water.

And handle it.

Not because Susanna didn’t care.

Because panic never solved anything.

Lucian saw understanding appear.

Just slightly.

Enough.

Good.

He knelt in front of her again.

Lower.

Closer.

"So we’re going to find her."

The certainty in his voice startled her.

"How?"

"One step at a time."

Simple.

Honest.

Real.

The panic finally began easing.

Not disappearing.

Just loosening its grip.

Enough to breathe.

Enough to think.

Enough to function.

Lucian smiled slightly.

"There she is."

Allison rolled her eyes weakly.

"You are annoyingly good at this."

"That’s not true."

Theo immediately shouted from across the room—

"IT’S VERY TRUE."

The tension cracked.

Just slightly.

Enough for people to breathe again.

Enough for Allison to breathe again.

Then Roman’s voice cut through the room.

Sharp.

Focused.

Dangerous.

"Everybody look at the screen."

A new transmission appeared.

Aaron Mercer.

Again.

But this time—

He wasn’t alone.

Beside Susanna stood a woman.

Dark hair.

Sharp eyes.

Beautiful.

Dangerous.

Familiar.

Roman’s face lost all color.

Not fear.

Shock.

Pure shock.

The kind that only comes once every decade.

Harold stood so quickly his chair crashed backward.

Dorian whispered a curse.

Theo blinked.

"Uh..."

Nobody answered.

Because Roman was staring like he’d seen a ghost.

And maybe he had.

The woman smiled.

Slowly.

Then looked directly into the camera.

And said the words that made Roman’s entire world stop.

"Hello, Roman."

The room went silent.

Then Aaron smiled.

And for the first time all night—

The Architect looked victorious.