Chapter 133
Chapter 133
Rose hurled the empty bottle against the wall. It shattered into tiny pieces, much like their plans. On the television, news channels couldn’t stop talking about the Phoenix Grid’s successful launch. Camille’s face appeared on every station, her triumph
complete.
“Turn it off!” she screamed, her voice raw from hours of
rage.
Herod stood by the window of their shabby motel room, his back to her. They had been forced to hide here after abandoning his penthouse. His finger pressed the remote button, silencing Camille’s voice mid–sentence about “transformation” and rising from the ashes.”
“All of it,” Herod said, his voice hollow with defeat. “All my planning, all my resources, all the time spent cultivating Walsh as our inside man, wasted.”
“We knew they discovered Walsh,” Rose paced the worn carpet, her movements sharp and erratic. “But how did they block the signal jammer too? That was supposed to be foolproof!”
Herod turned to face her. His expensive suit looked out of place against the peeling wallpaper. The room smelled of old cigarettes and cheap cleaning products.
“Their systems had protections I’ve never seen before,” he said, frustration evident in the tightness of his jaw. “Everything I’ve built since approaching you with this plan, gone in an instant.”
Rose twisted the cap off a new bottle with such force it cut into her palm. She didn’t seem to notice the small line of blood.
“She’s always one step ahead now,” she muttered, taking a long drink. “My sister. The great Camille Kane, Phoenix rising from the ashes.”
Her mocking tone couldn’t hide the raw jealousy beneath. She turned to the mirror, barely recognizing herself. Her carefully maintained appearance had crumbled over the past days. Dark roots showed in her hair. Her eyes looked wild, rimmed with smeared makeup.
“We’re finished,” Herod said quietly. “Kane Industries stock is soaring. The Grid is operational. Every plan we had has failed.”
Rose spun toward him, bottle clutched in her white–knuckled hand. “Finished? FINISHED? We haven’t even started!”
“Rose…”
“No!” She moved closer, her face inches from his. “We didn’t fail because of Walsh or better security. We failed because we weren’t willing to go far enough.”
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Herod studied her, seeing something dangerous in her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I mean we’ve been playing by their rules.” Rose’s voice dropped to an intense whisper. ” Trying to sabotage their precious Grid through codes and software. Trying to damage their reputation. It’s too subtle.”
“There’s nothing subtle about what we’ve tried,” Herod argued.
“Yes, there is.” Rose’s smile chilled him. “We never targeted the actual infrastructure. The physical Grid itself.”
Herod stepped back. “You’re talking about destroying Grid components directly.”
“Yes.” Rose’s eyes lit up. “The main control hub. The primary junction boxes. The central servers. Not through codes, but through direct action.”
“That’s not sabotage anymore, Rose. That’s terrorism.”
She laughed, the sound brittle and sharp. “Such a dramatic word. I prefer to call it
direct action.”
Herod moved to the small table where his laptop sat. He closed it deliberately. “When I first approached you about working together, I wanted to acquire Kane Industries, to make Victoria pay for destroying my family’s company. “But this…”
“This is exactly what we’ve been working toward all along!” Rose slammed her bottle on the table, liquid sloshing over the sides. “Don’t pretend you’re shocked now. Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it too.”
“There’s a difference between thinking and doing,” Herod said quietly.
“Is there?” Rose’s voice softened dangerously. “When Victoria destroyed your family’s company, when your brother killed himself, didn’t you imagine making her suffer? Physically suffer?”
Herod turned away, unable to deny it. In his darkest moments after his brother’s suicide, he had imagined Victoria Kane suffering, dying even. But fantasy was different from reality.
“The Grid is operational now,” he said instead. “Security will be even tighter.”
“But they think they’ve won.” Rose moved closer again, her body pressing against his back, her voice a caress against his ear. “They think we’ve been neutralized. They won‘ t expect a physical attack now.”
Her hands slid around his waist. “Think about it, Herod. The Phoenix Grid’s grand launch, celebrated worldwide. And then, just days later, its spectacular failure. Camille‘ s moment of triumph turned to public humiliation.”
Her words painted a picture he couldn’t help but find appealing. Victoria’s pride crushed. Camille’s reputation destroyed. His brother finally avenged.
“How would we even do it?” he asked, already hating himself for considering it.
Rose’s smile widened. She moved to her bag, pulling out papers. Diagrams of Grid
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infrastructure. Security rotations. Access points.
“You’ve been planning this all along,” Herod realized.
“I’ve been considering all options,” Rose corrected, spreading the papers on the bed. The main control hub has the weakest physical security. Attack there, and the entire Grid fails.”
“People could be hurt,” Herod pointed out.
Rose didn’t even blink. “Casualties are inevitable in war.”
“This isn’t war.”
“Isn’t it?” Her eyes flashed. “You came to me because Victoria Kane destroyed your family. I joined you because Camille stole my life. They declared war first.”
She pressed against him again, her body warm and familiar. “We’ve tried it your way, Herod. The careful, calculated approach. And we’ve failed every time.”
Her lips brushed his ear, “Now we try it my way.”
Herod felt himself weakening. The humiliation of today’s failure burned inside him. The thought of Camille and Victoria celebrating their victory while he and Rose hid in this pathetic motel made his blood boil.
“When?” he asked, already knowing he would regret this.
“Tomorrow night,” Rose replied, triumph in her voice. “While they’re still congratulating themselves. While their guard is down.”
She pulled him toward the bed and the papers spread across it. “I’ve already started planning. The security patterns, the access points, everything.”
As she walked him through her plan, Herod felt a growing unease. This wasn’t the Rose he had first approached month’s ago, calculating, strategic, focused on financial gain and professional destruction. This Rose burned with something darker, more primal.
“What happens after?” he asked when she finished outlining her plan. “If we do this, there’s no going back. We’d be fugitives.”
Rose shrugged, unconcerned, “We have money. Fake identities. We could disappear anywhere.”
“Together?” The question slipped out before he could stop it.
Rose looked at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. Not love, he wasn’t sure she was capable of that emotion anymore. But need, certainly. Dependency.
“Of course together,” she said, her hand cupping his face. “Who else do we have now? Who else would understand what we’ve done, what we’ve sacrificed?”
There was truth in her words. They had burned all other bridges. Their mutual hatred of Victoria and Camille had bound them together in ways that went beyond normal
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relationships. They needed each other now, not from love, but from shared guilt, shared obsession, shared destruction.
“I need you with me on this,” Rose whispered, her fingers digging into his shoulders with desperate strength. “I can’t do this alone.”
The admission of weakness from a woman who showed none was more persuasive than any argument. Herod found himself nodding, even as part of him screamed this was madness.
“Together,” he agreed, sealing his fate.
Rose’s smile blossomed, beautiful and terrible at once. For a moment, he glimpsed the woman she must have been before hatred consumed her, stunning, vibrant, alive. Then the moment passed, and the hardness returned to her eyes.
“We’ll finish what we started,” she said, pulling him closer. “We’ll watch it all burn.”
Later, as Rose slept beside him, Herod stared at the ceiling. The peeling paint formed patterns like a map to nowhere. He had crossed a line today, agreeing to Rose’s plan. There would be no redemption, no going back.
He looked at the woman curled against him. In sleep, her face softened, the constant rage temporarily eased. Yet even now, her fingers clutched his arm possessively, afraid he might vanish while she slept.
They had become something terrible together, he realized. Something worse than either might have been alone. Rose’s hatred and his strategic mind. Her willingness to destroy everything and his ability to make it happen.
Tomorrow they would cross the final line. From revenge to something far darker. And though he had agreed, though he would follow through, a small part of him hoped they would fail again.
Because the alternative meant becoming exactly what Victoria Kane had always believed the Prestons to be, monsters willing to destroy lives for their own satisfaction.
Rose stirred beside him, her eyes opening. “What are you thinking about?” she asked, voice thick with sleep.
“Tomorrow,” he answered honestly.
She smiled, that terrifying smile that mixed eagerness and rage. “Tomorrow we take everything from them, just like they took everything from us.”
Her hand moved to his face, fingers tracing his jaw with surprising gentleness. “No more failures. No more watching from a distance while they celebrate. Tomorrow we win.”
Herod nodded, unable to voice his growing doubts. Rose would see any hesitation as betrayal now. They were too far down this road together.
“Tomorrow,” he agreed, the word tasting bitter on his tongue.
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Rose settled against him again, falling back to sleep with the ease of someone whose conscience troubled her not at all. Herod remained awake, watching shadows move across the ceiling, feeling the weight of what was to come pressing down on him like a physical thing.
Tomorrow they would attack the Phoenix Grid directly. Tomorrow they would cause real, physical destruction. Tomorrow they would become everything they had pretended not to be.
The final battle was coming. And Herod feared no one would emerge unscathed.
