Chapter 128

Chapter 128:

“My nightmare makes sense now,” Camille said softly. “Rose pulling me down isn’t the real danger. It’s Herod, patient, hidden, with a plan we still don’t fully understand.”

Alexander reached across the table, taking her hand again. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Camille nodded, drawing strength from his touch. But the nightmare’s dread still clung to her like a second skin.

“Four days until the Grid launch,” she said. “Whatever they’re planning, it’s coming soon.”

“Victoria has the shadow engineering team working around the clock to undo the sabotage. The Grid will be secure.”

“But what if the Grid isn’t the endgame? What if it’s just another distraction?”

Camille met his gaze directly. “The stock purchases. The sabotage. Martin Greene’s betrayal. What if they’re all just pieces of something larger?”

Alexander didn’t dismiss her concerns. “Then we need to find the pattern.” He pulled out his phone, sending a quick text. A moment later, his phone buzzed with a response.

“Victoria wants to meet at seven. Full strategic briefing.” He looked up at Camille.

“She’s been up all night too, apparently.”

“She feels it too,” Camille said. “The danger closing in.”

They sat in silence as the first rays of sunrise began to filter through the kitchen windows. The night’s shadows retreated, but the sense of lurking threat remained.

Camille thought of her nightmare, of being pulled under dark water, of fighting for breath, of Rose and Herod dragging her down. Now the dream’s meaning seemed clearer, more ominous.

It wasn’t just about drowning. It was about time running out.

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Four days until the Grid launch. Four days for them to uncover whatever Herod was truly planning.

Four days for Camille to ensure that her nightmare remained just that, a dream, not a prophecy.

But as she looked into Alexander’s worried eyes, she couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was coming would be worse than anything she had imagined. And unlike her nightmare, there would be no waking up from it.

The restaurant occupied the entire top floor of a Midtown hotel, overlooking Central Park. Camille arrived fifteen minutes early, a tactic Victoria had taught her: secure the position of power, choose your seat, control the encounter from the first moment.

She selected a corner table with her back to the wall, facing both entrances.

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