Chapter 53 Inside the Thorne Armory
Dorian was still standing at the foot of the bed.
His gray eyes were fixed on her. His eyebrow was still raised. He was waiting for an answer.
Veyra’s face was on fire. She had been caught staring. Caught gawking like a teenager with a crush.
"I was just—" She scrambled to sit up. Her hands dropped to her sides. "I was stretching. Yes. Stretching. My arms were stiff. From the lake and yes, from the swimming too, don’t forget that."
Dorian said nothing.
"Pregnancy cramps," she added very quickly. "And it is veery common. The doctor mentioned it."
He still said nothing.
She grabbed the edge of the blanket. She pulled it over her head. She curled up underneath it like a child hiding from a monster.
"Goodnight," she said, her voice muffled by the fabric.
She heard him exhale. A soft sound which looks like almost a laugh.
Then his footsteps crossed the room. The door opened. The door closed.
He was gone.
The room was dark except for the sliver of light from the hallway.
Dorian’s footsteps had faded. The door had clicked shut. But Veyra was still frozen beneath the blanket, her face burning, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
She had been caught.
She had been staring at him. At his bare chest. At the water droplets still clinging to his skin. At the way his bathrobe had hung open, revealing the hard chest lines of his body.
He must have seen. He must have known.
She pressed her hands against her cheeks. They were hot. So hot.
"Stretching," she whispered to herself. "I said I was stretching. Idiot ne."
She wanted to disappear. To sink into the mattress and never come out.
The blanket was still over her head. She pulled it tighter. She was still curling into a ball. She lay there in the darkness and tried to slow her breathing.
In. Out. In. Out.
And to be frank? It did not help.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him. The way the light had hit his chest. The way his jaw had tightened when he asked what she was doing. The way his voice had sounded—low and rough and warm.
She was in trouble.
She had promised herself she would not feel anything. This was a contract. A business arrangement. He was protecting the baby, not her.
But her heart did not seem to care about promises anymore.
She groaned into the pillow.
Dorian stood in the hallway, his hand still on the door handle.
He did not move. He stood there, listening to the muffled sounds from inside the room. The rustle of blankets. The soft groan.
She was embarrassed. He could tell.
He almost smiled.
He thought about her. About the woman hiding under the covers like a child. She was young. Younger than him. But she had done things that people twice her age could not do.
She had developed a world-class heart disease drug. In a cramped apartment. With no resources. No lab. No funding. Just her own intelligence and determination.
He thought about the serum. The way it had worked. The way Dr. Harrison had called it extraordinary.
Her talent was raw. Untrained. Unrefined.
But it was there. Beneath the surface. Waiting to be developed.
He wondered what she could become. With the right teachers. The right resources. The right support.
How high could she go?
He was very much looking forward to finding out.
He turned and walked down the hallway, his bare feet silent on the carpet.
Behind him, the door remained closed.
*
The sun was barely up when Veyra reached for her phone.
The screen glowed. 6:15 AM. She had barely slept. Her mind had been racing all night. Images of Dorian. Images of guns and finally images of Eleanor being dragged away.
She could not wait any longer.
She typed a message to Li Wei.
When do we start?
She expected to wait. To toss and turn for an hour before getting a response.
But the reply came almost immediately.
I’m already in the living room. I’ll take you to the armory. It’s in the cellar.
Veyra sat up so fast that she nearly fell off the bed.
Now?
Now.
She threw off the blanket. Her feet hit the floor. She grabbed her robe. She shoved her arms through the sleeves. She ran to the bathroom, splashed water on her face, and ran a brush through her hair.
She looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were bright. Her cheeks were flushed.
She looked like a child on Christmas morning.
She ran downstairs.
Li Wei was standing by the fireplace.
He was wearing dark leather pants and a black polo shirt. His boots were polished. His posture was perfect. He looked like he had been awake for hours.
"Mrs. Thorne," he said. "You’re eager."
"I’ve been waiting my whole life for this."
Li Wei’s mouth twitched. Almost a smile.
"The armory is in the cellar," he said. "Follow me."
Veyra fell into step behind him. They walked out of the living room and down a long hallway. The walls were paneled in dark wood. The floor was stone. The air grew cooler with every step.
"I can’t believe there’s an armory in this house," Veyra said. "A real armory."
"The Thorne family has a long history," Li Wei said. "They’ve faced many threats over the years. The armory was built for protection."
"What kind of threats?"
Li Wei glanced at her. "The type that require guns."
Veyra nodded. She did not did to ask more questions.
They reached a staircase. Narrow. Stone. It led down into darkness.
Li Wei flipped a switch. Lights flickered on. Fluorescent. Harsh. They illuminated a long corridor below.
"The cellar is divided into two sections," Li Wei said as they descended. "The right side is the static area. It contains the collection room and the meditation room."
Veyra looked to the right. Heavy wooden doors. Brass handles. Old.
"The left side is the dynamic area," Li Wei continued. "That’s where we’re going. The gun room. The shooting range which is the fighting room."
He pointed down the left corridor. Veyra could see more doors. Metal this time. Modern.
"How many guns are in the armory?"
"Enough."
Veyra’s excitement grew. She had never held a real gun before. Not like the ones in the armory nor like the one she had taken from Dorian’s nightstand.
That gun had saved Lily’s life.
She wanted to learn how to use one properly.
They passed a wooden door on the right. It was thicker than the others and more darker. A heavy iron lock hung on the outside.
"What’s that?" Veyra asked.
Li Wei stopped. "The meditation room."
Veyra looked at the door. At the lock. At the small slot at the bottom where food could be pushed through.
"No light inside," Li Wei said. "No windows. No clock. No entertainment. Nothing to mark the passage of time."
Veyra shivered.
"It was originally used for meditation," Li Wei continued. "Monks would stay there for days. Weeks. They would reflect. Pray. Find peace."
"And now?"
"Now it’s a punishment room." Li Wei’s voice was neutral and so professional. "People lose their sense of time in there. Hours feel like days. Days feel like weeks. Their will crumbles. By the time they come out, they’re not the same."
Veyra thought about Eleanor. Locked inside that room. No light. No sound. No sense of time.
She did not feel sorry for her.
Eleanor had locked Lily in a cage. Had hired men to kidnap a child. Had tried to destroy Veyra’s life.
A week in the meditation room was more than deserved.
Veyra turned away from the door. She followed Li Wei down the corridor.
They reached the end of the hallway.
A large metal door stood before them. Gray. Windowless. A keypad was mounted on the wall beside it. A biometric scanner glowed red.
"The armory," Li Wei said.
He stepped forward. He pressed his thumb against the scanner. The red light turned green. He entered a code on the keypad. Buttons beeped. Lights flashed.
A click. A hiss of hydraulics.
The metal door swung open.
Cold light rushed out. Bright. White. Fluorescent.
Veyra blinked. Her eyes adjusted.
She stepped through the doorway.