"Stay behind me," Dmitri hissed, his hand already reaching for the heavy flashlight like a weapon. "If I say run, you go through the tunnel in the back. Don't look back."
I grabbed the heavy ledger and tucked it against my chest. I was done running.
The sound against the steel door wasn't someone trying to break it down. It came in a pattern. Two quick knocks, then three slower ones. A signal.
Dmitri reacted immediately. He stepped in front of me and pushed me back, gripping the iron fire poker he'd pulled from the old fireplace. His knuckles went pale around the handle.
The door scraped loudly as it opened, dragging against the floor. Morning light slipped inside, dusty and pale.
A tall, thin figure stood in the doorway, looking completely relaxed for someone who had just broken into a bunker.
"If I were your father's men, Volkov," he said calmly, "you'd already be unconscious and halfway to a private jet."
Adrien walked in as if he belonged there. He brushed a speck of soot off his coat and glanced around the room. His eyes landed on Dmitri's stance, then on the ledger in my arms and finally on the tension hanging in the air between us.
He looked like he was quietly trying to figure things out.
"Adrien," Dmitri said, lowering the poker, though his shoulders stayed tense. "You tracked the car."
"I designed the GPS system, remember?" Adrien flipped his silver lighter open. Click. Closed it again. Click. "I just adjusted the signal. The Volkov servers think you're somewhere near the coast. I kept the real location to myself." He looked around the bunker.
"This place made the most sense. Viktor can't legally monitor it."
I stepped out from behind Dmitri. "Are you here to turn us in?" The ledger felt heavier than it should have in my hands.
Adrien looked at me. For a brief second, his usual cold expression softened.
"The Academy is locked down," he said. "Lady Schuyler's been on every news channel talking about how the 'unstable scholarship girl' kidnapped the Volkov heir."
I blinked.
"If you go back now, you'll both be finished," he continued. "They'll make sure of it."
His gaze shifted to the book I was holding. "But judging by that… maybe you found something useful."
"The Founding Trust," I said quietly. My throat felt dry. "There's a reversion clause."
Adrien froze.
Then a slow grin spread across his face. "Well," he said, "that changes things." He leaned back slightly.
"You don't need a lawyer. You need an audience."
After that, the rush of everything started to fade. The bunker grew quiet. Adrien went downstairs to monitor the cameras, leaving Dmitri and me alone in the stillness of the place.
Morning light began to filter through the vents above us, faint and gray.
While Dmitri studied the contracts spread across the desk, I wandered down a narrow hallway. At the back, I found a small cedar closet.
The seal hadn't been broken. I opened it carefully. Inside, resting in the darkness, was a velvet case. My breath caught. I lifted the lid. It was a violin. A 1720 Stradivarius. It belonged to either of them.
Even in the dim light, the wood glowed softly, warm and amber against the cold metal surroundings.
I carried it back to the main room.
Dmitri was leaning over the desk, looking exhausted. Shadows sat under his eyes. When he noticed the violin, he stopped moving completely.
Something in his expression shifted.
"Play," he said quietly.
I hesitated.
At St. Aurelia, the violin had become a tool. Something I used to prove I belonged there. Here, it felt different. I placed it under my chin. It fit the same way it always had. Familiar. Steady. My hands began to move before I really thought about it.
An old melody came back to me. From a memory I didn't even know was there. It was so simple and soft. The sound filled the bunker, echoing gently off the steel walls. It's been a while since I played for myself.
A melody just for me.
Dmitri's POV
For months, I'd tried to understand her.
I was obsessed with the way she argued with me, the way her eyes sparked whenever she was angry, the way she wore the things I gave her like she was daring me to say something about it.
At first, I thought I wanted control. I thought I wanted to turn her into something useful to me. Something I could use against my father. But standing there, listening to the music echo through the bunker, something in my chest shifted. It had been numb for a long time.
Now it wasn't.
She wasn't playing to impress anyone. She was playing because she missed someone. And suddenly I saw her differently. Just Isabelle. A girl who had lost her mother.
The light from the vents caught her face while she played, her eyes closed, her body moving slightly with the music.
For the first time, I understood something. This wasn't just an obsession anymore. I was completely screwed. I was done for. I didn't want to control her. I wanted to protect what made her who she was. And that realization hit harder than anything else had.
"Isabelle."
The music faded. She opened her eyes. They were bright with tears she refused to let fall.
"It still remembers me," she said softly.
Her voice sounded fragile.
I stepped forward and gently took the violin from her hands. I set it carefully on the desk. Then I cupped her face. Her skin was cold. Her breath is warm.
"We go back at dawn," I said. My voice came out rough. "And we're not going there to beg."
I held her gaze. "We're going to take everything back."
The Morning of the Assault
The three of us stood in the ruined foyer as the sun rose outside. The light was sharp, cutting through the dust in the air.
Adrien looked exhausted. He hadn't slept at all. He'd spent the entire night breaking into the Academy's security system.
"The board meeting starts at noon," he said, sliding a tablet across the table. Blueprints filled the screen. Guard patrols. Security blind spots.
"They're planning to expel you officially," he continued, looking at Isabelle. "And quietly erase the Valois land claims while they're at it."
He smirked slightly. "They think you're hiding somewhere safe."
"We're not using the main gates," I said.
"One last show, Isabelle,"
My eyes met hers. "No hiding this time."
She held the violin case in one hand and the ledger in the other. The ruins of the bunker were behind us now. Everything ahead felt uncertain. But she didn't hesitate.
"Let's go," she said.
"Time to go home."