Against the Algorithm

Chapter 41: Where Loyalty Stands

"They're still breathing?" she asked.

"Lu's already started," Kazemi said. "We're moving in behind them. Silent pressure. Legacy destruction."

"Good," she murmured, turning toward the wall where her travel bag always waited, untouched for years. She reached for it without hesitation. "You'll fly first."

He arched a brow. "And you?"

Her voice was velvet and ash. "I'll follow once the Lu family finishes burning their future." Then, with a final glance toward her husband, she added with a grin that didn't reach her eyes. "Their lives?" Her voice dropped low, nearly affectionate. "Those belong to me now." And when she stepped out of that room?

So did the storm.

The door opened with a quiet ease, the subtle click of the handle barely drawing attention before the measured sound of heels tapped against the polished hospital floor.

Jinyang turned immediately, brows furrowing as she instinctively stepped protectively between the door and her best friend's bed, until her eyes caught up with what her instincts had not.

Chen Kaya. Elegant in all black, her long coat cinched at the waist, with her dark hair swept back into a sleek twist, Chen Kazemi's wife moved with the kind of composed danger that only those trained in violence could carry so effortlessly. Not rushed. Not panicked. Just silent inevitability.

Jinyang blinked, her confusion slipping through before she could stop it. "Kaya-jie?" she asked, startled. "How did you—?"

"I know," Kaya said smoothly, her voice soft but razor-sharp beneath the surface. "Kazemi called. He told me Yao was sick." She stepped toward the bed without hesitation, reaching into the crook of her arm to pull free a carefully wrapped bouquet, Yao's favorite flowers, soft blooms in pale lavender and crisp white, already clipped and arranged in a small crystal vase. She moved with practiced care, placing it gently on the bedside table. Then, without hesitation, she leaned down, brushed aside a stray lock of platinum hair from Yao's flushed forehead, and pressed a light, quiet kiss there.

The gesture was gentle.

Protective.

Possessive.

When she straightened, her gaze shifted—and locked immediately onto Lu Sicheng, who had risen instinctively when she entered. Her eyes flicked once to the necklace resting visibly against Yao's skin—the medallion sitting against the hollow of her throat, unmistakably Lu crest surrounded by rubies.

Kaya's eyes narrowed, her lips curling into something that didn't quite resemble a smile. "If you ever hurt her," she said, her tone like a knife dipped in honey, "you'll never see me coming." Her voice didn't rise. It didn't need to. "You'll be dead," she added, "long before you even realize it's begun."

Sicheng didn't flinch. He didn't challenge. He simply met her gaze with the same steady fire she had grown to expect from someone who dared to stand at Yao's side.

Only then did her posture soften, just slightly. She turned her attention from him to the matriarch who stood silently behind him, Lu Wang Lan, her arms crossed, expression unreadable but not unwelcome.

Kaya's voice, when she spoke again, was lower—measured. "I suggest you both hurry with your plans," she said, her gaze sliding between mother and son. "Kazemi's already moving. Quietly, yes but with full force. What's left standing when he's done?" She turned, casting one last glance at the girl in the bed. "That belongs to me." Her gaze darkened, and something far older—something savage—slipped into her expression, just beneath the surface of civility. "The aunt, the uncle, the cousin," she said coldly. "When this is finished, no one will see them again." And then, with that same terrifying grace, she turned and walked out of the room, leaving only silence, purpose, and the chilling certainty that her words weren't a threat.