Chapter 5: The Devil's Due Diligence

Chapter 5: The Devil's Due Diligence

The silence that followed Kaelen’s confession was heavier than the tons of paper and history weighing down on them in the sub-basement. Elara stared at him, the terror in her eyes slowly being eclipsed by a dawning, horrified understanding. The spectral chains, the data-wraiths, his impossible speed—it all slotted into a worldview she hadn't known existed five minutes ago.

“The fine print…” she repeated, her voice a fragile whisper. “You made a deal. Like Marcus Thorne.”

“A different deal. With a different firm,” Kaelen said, his tone bleak. The memory of Lyra’s empty eyes was a fresh wound. “But the principle is the same. I’m an asset. Property of Infernal Holdings Inc. My job is to collect on overdue accounts.”

Elara wrapped her arms around herself, a futile defense against the chill of this new reality. “So you’re a… a demonic repo man.”

A bitter smile touched Kaelen’s lips. “A glorified Acquisitions Agent. And I’ve just been flagged for gross operational negligence. By revealing myself to protect you, I’ve created a liability.” He took a step toward her, his expression grim. “They know about you now, Elara. Not just Thorne’s system, but my… employers. You need to disappear. Change your name, leave the city, forget you ever heard the name OmniCorp.”

It was the only rational course of action, the only way to save her. But as he looked at her—dust-smudged, terrified, but with a stubborn fire still burning in her eyes—he knew she wouldn't run.

“Forget?” she shot back, a spark of her usual defiance returning. “That man, that thing, built an empire on a graveyard, and you want me to just walk away? After what we found? After what I just saw? No. Absolutely not.”

Before Kaelen could argue, a new cold permeated the archive, a cold so absolute it seemed to freeze the very dust motes in the air. It was a clean, sterile cold, sharp as obsidian. The emergency lights flickered, their yellow glow turning a sickly, infernal red for a single heartbeat.

Kaelen’s posture straightened, every line of his body tensing. He didn't have to look. He knew.

“Too late,” he breathed.

Lilith materialized at the end of the aisle. She wasn’t dissolving from shadow this time; she simply stepped out of a fold in reality, as casually as one might step out of a limousine. She was no longer in her severe business suit. Instead, she wore a breathtaking, blood-red evening gown that seemed woven from captured light and shadow. Diamonds glittered at her throat like frozen stars. She looked as though she was on her way to an opera, not an unscheduled field audit.

Her burning eyes swept over the scene—the scattered files, the lingering scent of ozone, the pale-faced human cowering by the shelves, and finally, Kaelen himself.

“Thorne,” she said, her voice dripping with disappointed amusement. “The auditor construct sent an… illuminating report. It seems you’ve been busy. Networking with the locals, redecorating the city’s historical records. And here I thought you were just filing paperwork.”

She glided toward them, her gaze flicking to Elara with cold, dismissive appraisal. “Explain this,” she commanded, gesturing to Elara as if she were a piece of un-filed evidence. “What is this liability?”

Kaelen moved instinctively, placing himself slightly in front of Elara. “She is a civilian caught in the crossfire. An asset now, not a liability. Her research was instrumental in uncovering the nature of Thorne’s contract.”

“Her research is a contamination,” Lilith countered smoothly. “She’s a loose end. Loose ends are inefficient. They create paperwork.” She met Kaelen’s gaze, her smile a razor’s edge. “Allow me to… archive her. It will be quick. Clean. Her file will be closed before it’s even opened.”

Elara flinched, understanding the cold corporate euphemism perfectly. This beautiful, terrifying woman was offering to murder her with the same emotional investment one might have in deleting an unwanted email.

This was the moment. The pivot. Kaelen had to turn Lilith’s own ruthless logic against her. Fighting was impossible and would only get them both erased.

“Killing her would be a monumental waste of resources,” Kaelen said, his voice steady and forceful. He was gambling everything on her ambition. “You said it yourself, this is a keystone asset. Malakor is watching. You want this to be clean? Thorne’s contract isn't just a scroll in a vault. It’s code, it's infrastructure, it’s a network of smaller pacts. It has a physical and digital anchor point, a master server or a central artifact where the primary agreement is housed. Destroying it is the only way to reap the soul without leveling half the city. And she,” he jabbed a thumb toward Elara, “is the only one who knows how to navigate the historical and municipal blueprints to find it.”

He was inventing on the fly, weaving Elara’s factual research into a supernatural framework Lilith would understand and, more importantly, find useful.

Lilith’s eyes narrowed. The idea was sound. A brute-force reaping would be messy, the collateral damage unacceptable on a high-profile account. A surgical strike was far more elegant. More… efficient.

“She’s a mortal,” Lilith said, still skeptical. “She’s fragile.”

“She’s also brilliant,” Kaelen pressed, refusing to back down. “She found the pattern without magic, without infernal insight. She used logic. That’s a perspective we don’t have. She’s not a liability, she’s a skeleton key. Using her is our fastest route to a successful acquisition. And a fast, clean closure on an account this big…” he let the words hang in the air, “…well, that would look very good on a performance review, wouldn’t it?”

He saw the flicker of ambition in her ember-like eyes. He had framed it in the only language she truly spoke: corporate advancement.

Lilith was silent for a long moment, her gaze moving between Kaelen’s defiant face and Elara’s terrified but determined one.

“Very well,” she conceded, the words clipping the air. “The asset is provisionally approved. But she is your responsibility, Thorne. And my patience is finite.” She smoothed a non-existent wrinkle on her gown. “We are attending the OmniCorp gala. Tonight. Marcus Thorne is unveiling some new charitable foundation—a final, pathetic attempt to balance his cosmic ledger. He will be there. We will locate the anchor, sever the contract, and I will personally close his account before the champagne runs out.”

She looked Elara up and down, a faint sneer on her perfect lips. “And find her something to wear. She can’t audit the damnation of a billionaire dressed like a librarian.”

---

An hour later, the OmniCorp tower was a blade of light against the rain-soaked night. Music spilled from its pinnacle, a penthouse gala so exclusive it was practically mythical. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, rare orchids, and ambition. The most powerful people in Veridia mingled under glittering chandeliers, their laughter sharp, their smiles predatory. It was a nest of vipers, and Kaelen could feel the venom in the very walls.

He stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, a glass of untouched champagne in his hand, his dark suit a piece of subtle armor. Beside him, Lilith moved through the crowd with the grace of a panther, utterly at home in this environment of power and deceit.

Elara was a study in controlled panic. Kaelen had arranged for a dress to be delivered to her apartment—a simple, elegant navy gown that was a world away from her comfortable cardigans. She looked beautiful, but deeply out of place, clutching a small purse as if it were a life raft.

“I don’t belong here,” she murmured, her eyes wide as she took in the opulent scene.

“None of these people do,” Kaelen replied, his voice low. “Look closer.”

She followed his gaze. She saw a banking tycoon laughing with a politician, but Kaelen saw the faint mark of a pact on the banker’s soul, a deal made to avoid ruin. She saw a celebrated surgeon accepting accolades, but Kaelen saw the tremor in his hand, the price for a skill he hadn’t earned. The entire room, the foundation of Marcus Thorne’s success, was built on these small, individual moments of damnation. They were all beneficiaries or victims of the same web.

“The power of the contract,” Kaelen explained. “It’s pulsing through this building. Thorne is the heart, and these people are the bloodstream. We’re in the belly of the beast.”

Just then, Lilith rejoined them, her expression sharp. “He’s here.”

They turned. Across the crowded ballroom, a space seemed to clear around one man. Marcus Thorne. He was handsome, charismatic, exuding an aura of untouchable power in his perfectly tailored tuxedo. He looked like a king in his court. He raised a glass to his guests, his smile radiant, his eyes as cold and empty as a dead star.

As his gaze swept the room, it snagged for a fraction of a second on their trio. He couldn’t possibly know who or what they were. But for that brief instant, his smile faltered. Some primal part of the entity he’d bargained with, the living ledger within him, had just recognized a threat. It had recognized the law, in the form of a ruthless enforcer and a damned soul bent on redemption.

The Devil’s due diligence was about to begin.