Chapter 5 - The Encryption in Our Blood
The words hung in the sterile air of the bunker, refusing to settle.
He embedded it into your genetic code.
I stared at Dante, a dry, humorless laugh escaping my throat. "Are you out of your mind? What is this, a bad science fiction movie? We’re eleven years old—well, today we are—and we’ve spent half our lives in physical therapy. We aren't flash drives!"
"Think about it, Ivy," Dante said, his voice entirely serious as he set the mechanical drive down on the metal desk. He tapped the surface with a gloved finger. "Julian was a genius, but he was also a realist. He knew that digital encryption can be cracked, servers can be seized, and bank accounts can be frozen. But biological data? A double helix strand engineered with a specific protein marker can pass undetected through standard medical screenings for years, acting as a living vault."
Mom buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. "He didn't have a choice," she choked out. "When they threatened to take you away from us, Julian panicked. He synthesized a strand of synthetic DNA and integrated it into your zygote phase during our fertility treatments. You and Esme... you were engineered not just to be twins, but to be the ultimate safe deposit boxes."
Esme reached down, touching her own legs as if she were suddenly a stranger to her own body. "Is that why my nerves never healed? Is that why the doctors always looked so confused at my MRIs? It wasn't an accident at all... it was a side effect of whatever he put inside us."
"No, Esme," Dante said, his tone softening into something almost gentle. He knelt down beside her wheelchair so he was eye-level with her. "Your father loved you more than anything in this world. He didn't do it to hurt you. He did it because he believed it was the only way to ensure you stayed alive. The neurological block in your spine... it acts as a firewall. It prevents the data from being extracted externally. To unlock it, the system requires a biological catalyst—a key that only your father possessed."
"Or someone carrying his exact bloodline," a cold, metallic voice echoed from the corner of the bunker.
We all froze.
From the shadows near the back utility corridor, where the emergency ventilation shafts emptied out, a figure stepped into the harsh blue light of the servers.
He wore a pristine, tailored dark suit that didn't have a speck of dust on it, contrasting sharply with the tactical chaos above. His hair was slicked back, silver at the temples just like Dante’s, but his eyes were entirely dead—cold, calculating, and devoid of any human warmth.
In his right hand, he held a sleek, silenced pistol, pointed straight at Dante’s chest.
"Marcus," Dante growled, his body coiling like a spring, though he didn't reach for his weapon.
"Hello, old friend," Marcus Vance smiled, his teeth gleaming white in the sterile light. He was Julian’s former business partner—the man who had taken over Vertex Technologies the day after our father died. "I must admit, I thought you were dead after our little disagreement in Geneva five years ago. But you always were like a cockroach, Dante. Hard to squash."
Mom let out a terrified scream, trying to lunge forward, but one of Marcus’s hidden operatives stepped out from the shadows behind her, pressing the barrel of a gun against the back of her neck.
"Ah, Celeste," Marcus said smoothly, his eyes drifting over her with casual disdain. "Still playing the grieving widow. You really should have sold the estate when I offered you the buyout. It would have saved everyone a lot of trouble—and a lot of property damage upstairs."
Marcus slowly shifted his gaze from Mom to Esme and me, his eyes gleaming with a greedy, triumphant light.
"Look at you two," Marcus murmured, taking a slow step closer. "The billion-dollar investment, walking and talking—well, sitting, at least. Your father thought he was so clever, hiding his life's work inside his precious little girls. But science always leaves a trace, doesn't it?"
Dante shifted his weight slightly, positioning himself directly in front of our wheelchairs. "You're too late, Marcus. The perimeter alarms are tripped. Federal teams are already en route to this coordinate."
Marcus laughed, a dry, mocking sound. "Federal teams? Dante, please. I own half the oversight committee in Washington, and the other half is currently looking the other way. By the time anyone shows up here, we’ll have what we need, and this entire estate will be a smoking crater."
May you like
He raised his gun, pointing the barrel straight at Dante’s forehead.
"Now," Marcus smiled coldly. "Tell the girls to stand up and walk to the extraction bench. Or I start with their mother."
