Chapter 7 - The Final Sequence
"Take a deep breath, Anaëlle," Julian said softly, stepping closer to her. His hand gently touched her shoulder, a gesture meant to steady her trembling frame. "You know the final part of the lullaby. The ending your mother sang to you every night before you went to sleep."
Tears streamed beneath her silk blindfold. Her mother’s face, long buried in the fog of time, suddenly came into sharp focus. She remembered the dim light of her childhood bedroom, the gentle touch of her mother's hand smoothing her hair, and the soft, soothing melody that closed her eyes every night.
"I remember," Anaëlle whispered.
She placed her fingers on the keys. The room fell dead silent. Even Hector seemed to hold his breath.
She began to play. The final movement was slow, painful, and agonizingly beautiful. It was a mournful farewell, a mother's last love letter to the daughter she knew she would have to leave behind.
Anaëlle played with everything she had left. She put her pain, her fear, her love for her sister, and her grief for her mother into every single key.
Clack. Heavy thud.
The front wooden panel of the grand piano swung open automatically. Deep inside the mechanical frame, a small steel drawer slid out, illuminating the dark interior with a faint blue LED light. Resting inside was a sleek, silver micro-drive.
"Finally!" Hector cheered, lunging forward with greedy hands to snatch the drive.
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"Now, Anaëlle!" Julian screamed.
Before Hector's fingers could touch the metal, Julian moved with terrifying speed.
