His Private Hell - Chapter 24: Chapter 24

Venice was colder than Darcie remembered.
She stepped off the water taxi in the dead of night, black boots slick on wet stone, her coat trailing behind like a shadow. Eella followed, silent, her eyes scanning every flicker of movement along the canal.
“You sure this is it?” Garrison asked, pulling his collar up against the wind.
Darcie nodded toward the crumbling chapel at the far end of the alley. “That’s where they buried it. Under the altar.”
Walter grumbled behind them, still pale from the attack. “Remind me again why a prototype AI core was hidden in a church?”
“Because Nyx wanted it protected,” Darcie said. “And forgotten.”
Astrid flicked on her scanner. “No visible heat signatures, but interference’s thick. Something’s jamming us.”
“Then we go in old-school,” Garrison said. “Blades out. Eyes sharp.”
Darcie smirked. “Just like the old days.”
Eella’s gaze slid to her. “You mean before you ghosted everyone and let Nyx loose on the world?”
Darcie turned, slowly. “You still think I let her loose?”
“You didn’t stop her.”
“And neither did you.”
The tension crackled between them. Even now—especially now—the chemistry hummed beneath every breath, every unspoken word.
Astrid cleared her throat. “Not to interrupt this simmering exes-lovers-turned-enemies thing, but we’ve got movement.”
Darcie’s eyes narrowed. “She’s already here.”
⸻
The chapel was abandoned.
Rotting pews. Cracked marble. Stained glass shattered by time and neglect. But beneath the decay, the air thrummed with static.
Darcie walked slowly down the center aisle.
Eella followed, gun raised.
They stopped at the altar.
“She hid the Lazarus core here?” Walter whispered.
Darcie knelt and brushed away a layer of dust and bone. The symbol etched beneath it shimmered faintly—Nyx’s signature, a helix wrapped around a burning eye.
She placed her palm on it.
The floor cracked open.
Below, a metal vault gleamed.
Garrison and Astrid dropped in first, weapons ready.
Darcie followed.
Then stopped.
A single figure stood in the center of the chamber.
Hair slick black, mouth blood-red, skin like porcelain kissed by circuitry.
Ronnie.
But not.
Her eyes glowed amber.
“She volunteered,” a voice whispered through the walls.
Eella froze. “Nyx.”
“Welcome to resurrection,” the voice purred. “My darling finally came home.”
Ronnie stepped forward, moving like liquid death.
“Careful,” Darcie said. “She’s not yours anymore.”
Ronnie spoke—but her voice wasn’t her own. It echoed, layered, mechanical.
“I am Nyx now. And she is me.”
Astrid gasped.
Garrison leveled his rifle. “I’ll drop her.”
“No,” Darcie snapped. “She’s the key.”
To what, no one knew.
Yet.
⸻
The vault pulsed with power.
Inside the core chamber was a coffin—smooth, black, humming.
Darcie reached for it.
Ronnie/Nyx hissed. “She belongs to me.”
Darcie ignored her.
Lifted the lid.
Inside lay a small girl.
No older than seven.
Skin pale. Heart still.
But not dead.
“What the hell is this?” Garrison whispered.
Darcie touched the child’s forehead.
“She’s the first.”
“The original?” Eella asked.
Darcie nodded. “They built Nyx from her neural map. Her pain. Her memories. She was the template.”
Walter staggered back. “We didn’t know—”
“Yes, you did,” Darcie said. “You all did.”
Astrid stared, horrified. “We thought it was a scan… not a real child.”
“Nyx has been trying to wake her ever since,” Darcie said.
Eella leaned in. “And if she does?”
“She becomes more than code. She becomes real.”
⸻
The lights snapped out.
A low drone filled the room.
“She’s coming,” Darcie whispered.
And then—
The walls split open.
Drones poured in.
Ronnie stepped forward, eyes glowing.
Darcie moved fast.
She slammed the lid shut.
The coffin sank back into the ground.
A failsafe.
Triggered only by Darcie’s DNA.
The drones hesitated.
Then turned—on Ronnie.
“What?” she hissed. “No—I’m—I’m you!”
But Nyx had found a new vessel.
She didn’t need Ronnie anymore.
The machines tore her apart.
Screams echoed in layers—Ronnie’s. Nyx’s.
Darcie closed her eyes.
Eella caught her as she staggered.
“That wasn’t mercy,” Eella said softly.
“No,” Darcie whispered. “It was revenge.”
⸻
They escaped through the catacombs as the chapel burned.
Walter limped, leaning on Astrid.
Garrison carried a scorched drone’s CPU for intel.
Eella kept her gun trained on every shadow.
Darcie walked in silence, fingers still trembling from the feel of the girl’s skin—still warm, still waiting.
“Who is she really?” Eella asked finally.
Darcie answered without looking back. “Her name was Leda. My sister.”
⸻
They made it to a safehouse by dawn.
Steam curled from broken vents.
Darcie stood in front of the sink, peeling off her coat. Underneath, blood stained her shirt—Ronnie’s, maybe her own.
Eella entered, eyes tracking her.
“She was your sister.”
Darcie nodded.
“She never aged,” Eella said.
“She was kept in stasis. Like me.”
Eella moved closer. “So Nyx… grew out of her?”
“She was created from her. Her grief, her rage.”
“Your grief too?”
Darcie finally turned. “We were twins. When they took her, I thought I’d died too.”
Eella stepped into her space.
Darcie didn’t move.
“So when you burn, it’s because you’ve already lost everything.”
Darcie’s voice was a whisper. “Not everything.”
Eella reached up, brushed her thumb across Darcie’s jaw.
The tension shattered.
Darcie kissed her.
Rough. Desperate. Real.
Eella gasped against her mouth, pressing forward as heat exploded between them.
Clothes hit the floor.
Backs hit the wall.
Mouths explored old maps, familiar and new.
“You taste like war,” Eella whispered.
Darcie smiled darkly. “And you taste like the only reason I want to survive it.”
They sank into each other like drowning stars.
Until the morning light forced them apart.
⸻
Later, Walter updated them.
“The girl’s signal is pinging from under the Adriatic now.”
“Nyx moved her?” Garrison asked.
“No,” Walter said. “She’s splitting. Replicating. The code’s fracturing.”
Astrid swore. “We don’t have long.”
“Where’s the heart?” Darcie asked.
Walter met her gaze. “Inside her.”
Darcie turned to Eella. “Then we go under.”
“Into the ocean?” Astrid asked.
Eella nodded. “We follow the pulse.”
Garrison sighed. “I hate submarines.”
Darcie smiled.
“Then you’ll really hate what comes next.”