“Pays out. ‘Electrical failure.’ ‘Tragic accident.’ With Damien gone, I’m in charge. No more bowing to my perfect little brother.”
Smoke filled the alley. Luna pressed her sleeve to her mouth to stop herself from coughing.
“At 9:05,” Ethan continued calmly, “when he uses his master key, the system disengages—and that circuit triggers the detonators in the basement. Explosion. Structural collapse inward. End of story.”
They left.
Luna couldn’t move. Fear, fever, and cold crushed her. She passed out behind the dumpster.
When she woke, the sky was pale. Church bells rang.
Nine.
Her heart slammed. Panic gave her strength.
She saw the black sedan stop. Saw Damien step out—polished, untouchable. Saw his dismissive gesture. Saw the keys in his hand.
And she understood: time would not wait.
She ran.
Not for dignity. Not for food. Not for candy.
She ran on pure instinct—like every step was holding the sky up.
“NO!” she screamed, but her voice came out weak.
Damien raised his hand toward the lock.
Luna grabbed his arm.
“DON’T GO IN! THE STORE WILL EXPLODE!”
The keys clattered to the ground.