“Mama…” Pello’s voice was a whisper, barely audible. “It’s from that ‘Anonymous Benefactor’ on the trade forum. The one who put up the five million. He says… he says a car is waiting outside, just for me.” Briska felt a cold dread seep into her bones, far more chilling than the icy fear she’d felt when Pello struggled for breath. This was a corporate hunter she knew intimately from the shadowed corners of Port Canto’s financial elite. The air in the opulent suite, moments ago marked by strange, nascent warmth, turned brittle. She didn't need to ask who Garek Moraine was; the name had haunted her periphery for years, a synonym for ruthless corporate raids and asset stripping. “A car?” Tavros’s deep voice was edged with a dangerous curiosity, his brow furrowed as he leaned closer to Pello’s tablet screen. Before he could read the crimson text for himself, Briska snatched the device, her fingers brushing Pello’s small, cold ones. “It’s nothing,” she said, her voice a brittle shell. “Just a prank. People are always trying to scam you online, Pello. Don’t pay it any mind.” She forced a smile, one that felt like shattered glass against her lips. Her gaze, however, flew to the wide, panoramic windows overlooking the manicured grounds of the medical center. The mist from the coastal lowlands had begun to burn off, revealing the expansive arrival plaza. Below, the usual fleet of sleek, self-driving shuttles and luxury sedans seemed to have been replaced. Four obsidian-black SUVs, their tinted windows reflecting the pale morning light like blank obsidian sheets, idled near the main entrance. Each bore a stylized, coiled serpent crest on its side – the unmistakable emblem of Moraine Capital. The vehicles weren’t just parked; their engines hummed with a restless energy, and Briska could discern dark, hulking figures moving around them, clearly armed. “Briska?” Tavros’s voice was sharper now, his attention following hers to the window. He closed the distance in two long, fluid strides. His green irises narrowed as he took in the scene below. “Moraine,” he muttered, the name a curse. “What in the name of the abyssal depths is he doing here?” Before Briska could formulate a lie, or even a partial truth, the suite’s secure door chimed. Tavros, already bristling, hit the intercom. A calm, modulated voice spoke. “Mr. Vengat, this is Security Lead Jorgen. We have an… unexpected situation. Garek Moraine has breached the perimeter. He’s demanding a full lockdown of the entire facility.” Tavros slammed his palm against the console, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “Denied! You tell Moraine he can make an appointment like everyone else, or I’ll have him ejected. This is my property now.” “Sir, he’s… already inside the main lobby. And he brought a small army. Our internal systems are showing a full external network override. He’s locked us down, sir.” The security lead’s voice cracked with a rare note of panic. Briska’s mind raced. Garek Moraine, here. For Pello. The bounty. The five million wasn’t a reward; it was bait. She clutched Pello’s tablet, her knuckles white. “Nyssa, take Pello’s hand,” she commanded, her voice low and urgent. “We’re leaving. Now.” Tavros turned, his face a mask of furious confusion. “Leaving? Briska, what are you talking about? No one is leaving. Especially not while Moraine is trying to muscle his way in. I will handle this.” He stepped toward the door, shoulders rigid. “No, you won’t!” Briska practically shouted, stepping in front of him. Her carefully constructed facade of indifference shattered, revealing the raw fear beneath. “You don’t understand! This isn’t about you, or your company. This is about *him*.” She gestured wildly at Pello, who, sensing the shift in atmosphere, was clinging to Nyssa’s side, his small face pale. “Garek Moraine is after Pello. He’s the unknown account behind those trades. The five million is a trap.” The words hung in the air, a shocking revelation. Tavros stared at her, then at Pello, then back at her, a cascade of incomprehension and dawning horror washing over his features. “Pello? A market savant? What… what are you saying?” “No time!” Briska grabbed Pello’s other hand. “Nyssa, the service elevator. It’s on the far side of the ward, past the pediatric wing. Quick!” Without waiting for Tavros to process, Briska yanked Pello and Nyssa out of the VIP suite and into the gleaming corridor. She moved with a desperate urgency, her gaze scanning every corner, every alcove, for signs of Garek’s men. The wide, polished hallways, usually bustling with medical personnel and elite visitors, were eerily silent. The lockdown was already effective. All main entrances and exits would be sealed. They sprinted through the quiet corridors, the soft thud of their shoes the only sound. Briska pulled them into the service area, a stark contrast to the luxurious main sections. The metal walls and exposed conduits of the service elevator shaft offered a fleeting sense of security. She jabbed the call button repeatedly, her breath ragged. “Come on, come on!” The doors finally slid open with a groan. Just as they were about to pile in, a voice echoed down the concrete hallway, cold and triumphant. “Well, well, well. Look what we have here. A little family reunion, just as I suspected.” Garek Moraine stepped into view, flanked by two burly men in black tactical gear, their faces grim. Garek himself was impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, a cruel smile playing on his lips. His eyes, like chips of flint, darted to Briska, then to Pello, a flicker of satisfied recognition in them. “Briska Yulon. I knew you’d lead me to my prize. The masked account that tanked my ‘Phalanx Prime’ short-selling scheme. The one who cost me half a billion credits.” He paused, his gaze lingering on Pello, a hint of disdain. “You brought the child? How sentimental.” Briska instinctively pulled Pello behind her, shielding him with her body. “He has nothing to do with this, Garek! Leave him alone!” “Oh, I think he has *everything* to do with this,” Garek purred, taking another step closer. “My sources confirm the data originated from this location, from someone with an uncanny knack for market manipulation. A ghost in the machine. A wonder.” His eyes narrowed, sweeping over Briska, then Nyssa, then finally landing back on Pello. “And you’ve been protecting him, haven’t you, Briska? Like a loyal guard dog.” Just as Garek’s men moved to apprehend them, a blur of motion exploded from behind the Yulon sisters. Tavros Vengat, his face contorted with a primal fury Briska had never witnessed, launched himself forward. He slammed into the first mercenary, a bone-jarring impact that sent the man sprawling, his weapon clattering across the floor. Tavros didn’t pause, pivoting to deliver a brutal, precise kick to the second man’s knee, eliciting a choked cry. He then stood, broad-shouldered and imposing, directly in front of Briska and Pello, a formidable barrier. “You will not touch them,” he snarled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated through the metal corridor. “You will not lay a single hand on this boy, Moraine, or I will dismantle every last piece of your empire until you’re begging for credits on the street.” Garek, momentarily stunned by Tavros’s unexpected violence, recovered quickly, a chilling laugh bubbling up from his throat. “Tavros Vengat! What a surprise! Protecting a common criminal’s child? How… benevolent. And a bit foolish, wouldn’t you say? You have no idea what you’re interfering with. This ‘boy’ – or whoever is hiding behind him – has been systematically destroying my market positions. I’m here for the anonymous financial mastermind who ruined my short-selling scheme. You think I care about this little waif?” He gestured dismissively at Pello, completely unaware of the five-year-old’s true capabilities. While Tavros and Garek exchanged venomous glares, Nyssa, with a quiet efficiency Briska rarely saw, took Pello’s tablet. Her slender fingers flew across the screen, her brow furrowed in concentration. She wasn’t just looking at the message; she was diving into the code, attempting to trace the sender, to reverse-hack the trap before it could snap shut. “You are a fool, Garek,” Tavros spat, his eyes blazing. “And you will regret this day until your last breath.” Garek merely smiled, pupils dilated with malice. He reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a small, sealed evidence bag. Inside, a single, folded sheet of paper was visible. He dropped it at Briska’s feet, the plastic crinkling against the cold metal floor. “Perhaps you’ll regret it more, Briska,” he murmured, his gaze flicking between Briska, Pello, and the furious Tavros. “Because I also found something else in my search for your little prodigy. Something rather… illuminating. A DNA profile, Ms. Yulon. And a rather striking match. Tell me, how do you think Port Canto’s elite will react when they discover who the true father of your genius son is?”

The Moraine Trap