Chapter 5 - The Blood Code
I clamped a hand over my mouth to stifle a scream.
Viktor walked slowly toward the body of his oldest friend, his face an unreadable mask of stone.
"They beat him before they killed him," Viktor observed quietly.
I couldn't look at the horrific wound, so I forced my eyes to examine the floor around the chair.
"Viktor," I whispered, pointing a trembling finger at the bloody rug.
"He wrote something."
Viktor knelt quickly beside the chair, ignoring the blood staining his trousers.
Written in smeared, dark crimson letters on the hardwood floor were three letters: C-H-V.
"It is a location cipher," Viktor deduced, his eyes darting around the room.
"Silas always hid things in plain sight."
"What does CHV stand for?" I asked, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm.
Viktor stood up in frustration.
"I don't know."
"He used dozens of drop sites across the city."
"We have twelve minutes before the council vote," Viktor stated grimly.
"If we don't crack this, Pierce takes the empire, and we both die before morning."
I stared at the letters, my mind racing through everything I knew about this terrifying new world.
"C-H-V," I muttered to myself.
Then, a distant memory from my childhood bubbled to the surface.
My grandmother used to tell me stories about the old country, about castles and kings.
"Corvinus," I said suddenly.
Viktor whipped his head around to look at me.
"What did you say?"
"Corvinus," I repeated, growing more confident.
"My grandmother told me about the Hunyadi family, the raven with the gold ring in its beak."
"The Latin name for the raven is Corvus, but the historical dynasty was Corvinus."
Viktor stared at me, his gray eyes widening in profound realization.
"Corvinus Historical Vaults," Viktor whispered, piecing the puzzle together.
"It is a private, subterranean bank on Wall Street owned by the old Hungarian families."
"That is where Silas hid the document," I said, a surge of adrenaline flooding my veins.
"You are far more valuable than a waitress, Mara," Viktor said, a genuine smile finally touching his lips.
We turned to run back toward the front door to escape.
Suddenly, the heavy iron bars on the front windows were illuminated by flashing red and blue lights.
The piercing wail of police sirens flooded the quiet street outside the brownstone.
"They tracked my phone," I realized in horror.
Viktor grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the back staircase.
"Those aren't real police," Viktor warned, chambering a round in his pistol.
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"That is Detective Ramsey, Pierce's personal executioner with a badge."
The front door exploded inward with a deafening crash as heavily armed men stormed the foyer.
