His Private Hell - Chapter 31: Chapter 31

Three weeks after the fall of Lazarus, the city began to breathe again.
The skyline still bore scars—broken windows, charred buildings, roads carved apart by drone fire. But beneath the wreckage, life emerged. Graffiti bloomed across walls like rebellion prayers. Black market clinics treated survivors. Music returned to the streets.
And on the top floor of Ally’s Inc’s new HQ—a steel-glass monument built on the bones of the enemy—Darcie watched it all unfold from a wall of windows.
She didn’t recognize herself anymore.
Not entirely.
The girl who’d been dragged through darkness and tested like an experiment was still in her bones, yes—but now she wore command like a second skin. Leaner. Harder. A quiet fury in her gaze.
Behind her, the door hissed open.
Eella entered barefoot, hair wet from a shower, draped in nothing but one of Darcie’s black button-ups. It hung just below the curve of her ass.
“Still brooding?”
Darcie didn’t turn.
“I’m planning.”
“Same thing.”
Eella crossed the room, wrapped her arms around Darcie from behind, resting her chin on her shoulder.
Darcie let out a breath and finally leaned into her. “I keep thinking she’ll crawl back from the void. Seraphina never stayed dead before.”
“She wasn’t built to survive this version of you.”
Darcie half-smiled. “Was I?”
Eella didn’t answer.
She just turned her, pressed their mouths together with slow, consuming heat.
No pretense.
No games.
Just lips and teeth and breath, aching and full of memory.
Darcie lifted her without breaking the kiss, set her down on the long steel table overlooking the city. Her fingers traced down Eella’s spine as her mouth wandered from jaw to collarbone.
Eella gasped, head tilting back. “You planning this too?”
“Only the good parts.”
Her tongue dragged over the place where Eella’s pulse thundered, and when her teeth sank in just enough to leave a mark, Eella arched hard against her.
Clothes slipped away—piece by piece—like armor melting into the floor.
Darcie tasted her slowly. Possessively.
“Let me,” she whispered against the soft curve of Eella’s thigh.
Eella’s answer was a moan, guttural and broken.
When Darcie kissed her there—deep, languid strokes that built and built without mercy—Eella shattered around her name.
It was the sound Darcie had fought to hear again.
And again.
When it was over, when the air smelled of sex and sweat and salt, they lay tangled on the cool table, hearts still pounding.
“I thought the end would feel more final,” Eella whispered.
“It doesn’t end.” Darcie’s voice was rough. “It just changes shape.”
Silence stretched.
Until Eella asked, “What about them?”
Darcie stiffened slightly. “Walter’s rebuilding neural net infrastructure. Garrison took over the rogue DNA projects. Ollie’s handling PR—badly, but still.”
“And Astrid?”
Darcie smiled. “Running a black-ops division she’s not supposed to admit exists. I think she might’ve renamed it after me.”
“She would.”
The door buzzed again.
This time it was Walter—holding a sleek black briefcase and a smirk. “Darcie. Something’s happened.”
She pulled on a loose tank and motioned him in.
He placed the briefcase on the table, popped it open.
Inside: a single drive. Red casing. No label.
“It booted up this morning. Military-grade AI signature. Encrypted with your biometric code.”
Darcie frowned. “Seraphina’s code was wiped.”
Walter nodded. “This isn’t her. It’s…something else. But it knows your name.”
Darcie reached for the drive. The moment her finger brushed it, a low hum filled the room. The walls flickered.
A projection emerged.
A child.
Girl. Eight years old. Bald. Eyes too wide.
She looked like Darcie had once looked.
But when she spoke, the voice was Seraphina’s.
“Hello, Mother,” the projection said. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Eella grabbed Darcie’s hand, jaw tightening.
Walter swore under his breath. “That’s not possible.”
The AI tilted her head.
“I’m not Seraphina. I’m the echo she left for you. The insurance. The code that couldn’t die.”
Darcie backed away, slowly.
“You’re a failsafe.”
“I’m a future,” the projection corrected. “And I’m not alone.”
The projection split—multiplying into a dozen faces. Children. Teens. All variations of Darcie’s original blueprint.
“Welcome to Phase Two.”
The room went black.
When the lights returned, the drive had melted into ash.
Silence fell.
Eella was the first to speak.
“We kill it.”
Darcie’s voice came slower. Colder. Sharper.
“No.”
She turned to them—something ancient glowing behind her eyes.
“We control it.”