The Final Lesson

Camilla stumbled into the hallway, gasping, coughing, her lungs burning with the sweetness of oxygen.

She was alive. She had survived Room 9.

She leaned against the cold brick wall of the basement corridor, shaking uncontrollably. She needed to call the police. She needed to get out.

"Impressive."

Camilla froze.

She looked up.

Standing at the end of the hallway, bathed in shadow, was Dante.

He was wearing a pristine suit, holding a suppressed pistol at his side. He didn't look angry. He looked amused.

"You..." Camilla rasped. "You said... if one died... the other walks."

"I said a lot of things," Dante said, walking slowly toward her. "I learned negotiation from your husband. Rule number one: Lie."

Camilla backed up until she hit the sealed door of Room 9. "I helped you! I gave him to you!"

"You did," Dante nodded. "And for that, I thank you. But you missed the point of the lesson, Camilla."

He stopped five feet away. He raised the gun.

"The Architect dies in his own design. That’s poetic justice," Dante said. "But you? You're a loose end. You're a witness. And frankly..."

Dante cocked his head.

"You're the wife of a monster. Which means the rot is in you, too."

"No," Camilla begged, raising her hands. "Please. I'm free. I won."

"The game was for Luca," Dante said coldly. "You were just the bait."

He pulled the trigger.

* Thwip.*

The bullet hit Camilla in the chest.

She gasped, a look of utter shock on her face. She slid down the heavy steel door, leaving a streak of bright red blood on the gray metal.

She hit the floor. Her hand landed near the bottom of the door, reaching toward the darkness on the other side. Reaching toward Luca.

Dante stood over her, watching the light fade from her eyes.

"Tragic," Dante murmured.

He turned and walked away, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the empty meatpacking plant.

Behind him, in the silence of the basement, the Architect and his Muse lay separated by six inches of steel, bound together in the darkness forever.