Chapter 4: The Siren's Song
Julian stared at the blinking red light as if it were a venomous snake. His face, moments ago twisted in a sadistic sneer, was now pale with terror.
"Give me that," he snarled, lunging toward the small black box.
Before his fingers could graze it, a piercing wail echoed through the panoramic windows. Sirens. Not just one, but several, and they were getting closer.
On the sofa, Beatrice finally set down her champagne flute. The icy indifference that had masked her features cracked, replaced by a sudden, sharp realization that their insulated world was being breached. "Julian," she snapped, her voice devoid of its usual aristocratic drawl. "What have you done?"
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"Shut up, mother!" Julian yelled, scrambling backward, his eyes darting around the penthouse like a cornered animal.
Elena didn't move. Her body ached with a blinding intensity, the result of the two hundred lashes she had just endured. But as the flashing red and blue lights began to reflect off the neighboring glass skyscrapers, a profound sense of peace washed over her. The golden cage was finally breaking.
