Chapter 5: The Brother No One Buried
The rain washed blood across the rooftop in thin crimson streams.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
The helicopter hovered overhead, its rotors scattering water across the cracked concrete.
Theodore stared at the man standing only twenty feet away.
Same height as Sebastian.
Same posture.
The same effortless confidence.
Yet something was unmistakably different.
Sebastian's calm came from discipline.
This man's calm came from enjoyment.
He smiled as though the entire night had been arranged for his entertainment.
"You've seen a ghost," Alexander said.
Theodore finally found his voice.
"Sebastian told me he was an only child."
Alexander laughed softly.
"He also told the world Rosalie was dead."
Silence.
Grant slowly raised his pistol.
"Don't move."
Alexander glanced at the weapon and looked almost disappointed.
"Detective..."
"...if you intended to shoot me, you would have done it already."
Grant didn't lower the gun.
Alexander sighed.
"You're one of the last honest detectives in New York."
He looked genuinely sympathetic.
"That must be exhausting."
Below them, masked operatives quietly surrounded the warehouse exits.
None climbed to the roof.
They didn't need to.
The helicopter remained directly overhead.
Escape routes had already been calculated.
Alexander took another step.
"I'm not here to kill you."
Theodore answered immediately.
"I don't believe you."
"You shouldn't."
Alexander smiled again.
"It's healthier."
He reached inside his coat.
Grant tightened his grip.
"Hands where I can see them."
Instead of a weapon, Alexander removed a worn family photograph.
He tossed it onto the wet rooftop.
It slid to Theodore's feet.
Theodore picked it up.
His breathing caught.
The picture had clearly been taken decades earlier.
A younger Sebastian.
Perhaps twelve years old.
Standing beside another boy.
Alexander.
Between them stood a woman Theodore had never seen before.
On the back, written in faded ink:
Vale Estate. Summer, 1998.
"My mother," Alexander said quietly.
"The first woman your family erased."
Theodore looked up.
"What are you talking about?"
Alexander's smile disappeared.
"Sebastian remembers me."
"He simply prefers that no one else does."
Grant interrupted.
"If you wanted a conversation..."
"...you could have picked somewhere less dramatic."
Alexander nodded.
"True."
He looked toward the helicopter.
"I admit my associates have a flair for theatrics."
The Collector remained visible through the open cabin door.
Watching.
Waiting.
Not interfering.
Alexander continued.
"I came because Rosalie survived."
"You didn't expect that."
"No."
"For the first time in years..."
"...someone surprised me."
Theodore stepped closer.
"Who is Subject Nine?"
Alexander's expression changed.
For the first time...
He looked genuinely serious.
"Rosalie told you that name?"
Theodore remained silent.
Alexander slowly exhaled.
"Then we're already too late."
A shrill ringtone broke the tension.
Grant's phone.
Unknown caller.
He answered without lowering his weapon.
"This is Detective Grant."
A frightened female voice answered.
"They've entered the hospital."
Grant's face lost all color.
"What?"
"The ICU."
"Power just went out."
"We can't find Rosalie."
The line dissolved into screams.
Then silence.
Grant looked toward Theodore.
"They've taken her."
Theodore's heart seemed to stop.
"No..."
Alexander closed his eyes briefly.
"I warned you."
Without another word, Theodore sprinted toward the roof access door.
Grant followed.
Alexander called after them.
"You won't find her."
Theodore ignored him.
Alexander spoke louder.
"They're not killing her."
That made Theodore stop.
He turned slowly.
"What?"
Alexander met his eyes.
"They need her alive."
"Why?"
Alexander looked toward the city skyline.
"Because Rosalie remembers something."
"What?"
"I don't know."
"But someone believes she does."
The Collector finally spoke through the helicopter loudspeaker.
"Time."
Alexander nodded once.
"Our conversation is over."
He walked toward the dangling rope.
Theodore shouted,
"Wait!"
Alexander paused.
"Did Sebastian try to kill Rosalie?"
The answer came after a long silence.
"No."
Relief flashed across Theodore's face.
Then Alexander finished.
"He only helped cover up the first attempt."
The helicopter lifted away into the storm.
Grant fired twice.
Both bullets missed.
Within seconds the aircraft disappeared beyond the skyline.
Only the rain remained.
Twenty-five minutes later.
St. Augustine Medical Center.
The place looked like a battlefield.
Police vehicles.
Ambulances.
Broken glass.
Emergency generators humming outside.
Hospital staff ran through the corridors in panic.
Theodore forced his way toward the ICU.
A uniformed officer blocked him.
"You can't go in."
"My fiancée was here."
"Sir..."
Grant flashed his badge.
"Move."
The officer stepped aside.
Inside...
Chaos.
Medical equipment lay overturned.
IV stands had been ripped from the floor.
The ICU doors hung open.
Rosalie's bed...
Was empty.
Only the heart monitor remained.
Still powered.
Still beeping.
One nurse sat against the wall in shock.
Grant knelt beside her.
"What happened?"
She stared blankly ahead.
"They..."
"They wore hospital uniforms."
"How many?"
"I..."
"I don't remember."
"They knew everyone's names."
"They knew the security codes."
"They knew where every camera was."
She suddenly grabbed Grant's wrist.
"They weren't rushing."
"They walked."
"As if they owned the hospital."
Forensic technicians were already processing the room.
One called to Grant.
"Detective."
He pointed beneath Rosalie's bed.
A tiny metallic object.
Grant picked it up carefully.
A silver chess piece.
A queen.
Its base carried an engraving.
A white raven.
Beside it lay a folded card.
Grant opened it.
Only one sentence.
The next move is yours.
Theodore stood silently in the center of the room.
Everything had happened exactly as Rosalie predicted.
The hospital had been infiltrated.
The funeral had been manipulated.
Someone always seemed to know the next move.
Unless...
A terrible thought struck him.
He slowly turned toward Grant.
"Who knew I was going to Locker 27?"
Grant frowned.
"You."
"Me."
"Rosalie."
"And you."
Grant nodded.
Theodore's voice became almost a whisper.
"And yet..."
"...they were waiting."
Neither man spoke.
Both reached the same conclusion.
Someone inside their circle was feeding information to the White Raven.
At that same moment, forty miles outside Manhattan, an armored convoy rolled through the gates of a heavily guarded private estate hidden within dense forest.
Underground, three reinforced steel doors opened one after another.
Inside the final chamber, Rosalie slowly regained consciousness.
Her wrists were restrained.
Medical monitors surrounded her.
She blinked against the bright surgical lights.
A familiar voice spoke from somewhere beyond her field of vision.
"I was beginning to think you'd never wake up."
Rosalie's breathing quickened.
"No..."
The speaker stepped into view.
Dr. Adrian Mercer.
Still wearing the same suit from the funeral.
Still carrying the same gentle smile.
Only now...
There was no fear in his eyes.
Only certainty.
Mercer adjusted the IV connected to her arm.
"I'm sorry about the coffin."
"It wasn't supposed to happen that way."
Rosalie stared at him in horror.
"You..."
Mercer nodded.
"Yes."
"I certified your death."
He leaned closer until only she could hear him.
May you like
"And this time..."
"...I'll make sure no one interrupts the procedure."
