After securing the duel, Sylvester wasted no time. The foundation of a clan wasn’t just to showcase the strengths of Sylvester’s men…they all needed survival. They needed to know that they won their first fight. And this was it. This was why Sylvester organized this fight. It was one part necessary, one part performative. They needed the respect, because respect and reputation was currency in clan dealings. He called an emergency meeting the following morning. The entire team gathered at the base. It was a modest building they had been renting since Sylvester got back on his feet. While it had a lot of room and some nice amenities, it still had some fundamental flaws. For instance, there was not much outside space. When they needed to drill men of more than a hundred, they had to go all the way to an open field to do it. That was both inconvenient and revealing. "We’ve got willing hearts," he said, sweeping his gaze across Geral, Otto, Verity, and Hozert, "but hearts alon

Emily’s phone rang sharply, breaking through the quiet hum of her office. She snatched it up the second she saw Geral’s name flashing across the screen. "Geral?" she answered, voice already tight with worry. There was no greeting. Only urgency. "Emily, it's Sylvester. He's been injured. We're at St. Augustine's. He's stable, but... you should come." Her heart slammed against her ribs. "I’m coming," she said immediately, already grabbing her bag with shaking hands. She didn’t bother shutting off her computer or locking the door behind her. The world around her blurred into nothing but static as she sprinted to her car, hands trembling as she jammed the key into the ignition. The drive to the hospital was a blur of flashing lights and screeching tires. She didn’t even realize she was speeding until a horn blared behind her and she nearly clipped a mailbox taking a turn too sharply. Then, as she sped down the long stretch leading to St. Augustine’s, she noticed it. A car, dark a

For the first few days after Sylvester’s discharge, Emily didn’t leave his side. She fussed over him with a stubbornness he couldn't resist, and he was grateful but stubborn himself. He let her hover without comment. What could he have done? Told her to go home? If Sylvester noticed how often Emily checked the windows, how she tensed at small noises outside, he didn't say anything. Maybe he thought it was just leftover anxiety from everything they had been through. Maybe he didn’t realize there was something more lingering under her skin. She hadn’t told him about the car. About the way it had followed her. About how its headlights had sat like twin, unblinking eyes in her rearview mirror. No. Emily had decided it was better to keep it hidden. Better not to worry him when he already had so much on his plate. Because in fact, if she was being honest, someone was probably watching her every waking hour of the day. Maybe this one got a little too enthusiastic. Anyways,

The end of the workday usually came with a bittersweet sense of relief for Emily. On one hand, she was free from the torturous claws of signings, accounting and barking orders, and on the other, she was now exposed…to the cruel eyes of the world. She packed up her things quickly, her mind already racing ahead to the comfort of home, and more importantly, the safety Sylvester's presence always seemed to promise. She made it down to the parking lot, keeping a wary eye out of habit, scanning for anything suspicious. All clear. Her fingers trembled slightly as she unlocked her car and slid into the driver's seat, a tension she had never truly shaken off ever since that first incident. She shoved the key into the ignition and turned it, only to be met with a sputtering cough from the engine. It came to life, but only for half a second before it died down. Emily froze as a sinking feeling gripped her chest and held on tightly. "Come on," she muttered, turning the key again. Nothing

Days slipped by, and still, there was no word of the explosion. Emily kept expecting a headline, a police report, anything that would hint at what she'd done. But the news was dominated by other matters…government reforms, budget debates, even a celebrity scandal. It was as if the fiery wreck she’d created had never happened. This was the city she lived in. If you weren’t important enough, no one cared. She thought back to when she was kidnapped, where if Sylvester hadn’t come for her, she would have died. She thought about how little of anything she heard on the news until Sylvester’s revenge. If you’re not elite, no one cared. At first, she was relieved. But as the days dragged on, a heavier realization began to settle in her chest. That was a stalker…but not just that. He was a weapon. There should have at least been a report of the explosion, but there was nothing. Someone was silencing it. Someone powerful. This meant she hadn’t destroyed the threat. She had simply cu