Evans stood by the rusted gate of the abandoned industrial yard, his silhouette framed in the weak spill of light from flickering lamps strung along the perimeter. Beyond him, the old cars and derelict platforms loomed like silent witnesses to the betrayal unfolding under the open night.He made no move to hide his presence — if anything, he wanted them to see him first. His hands rested calmly on the roof of his battered sedan, the backseat door cracked just enough to hint at the unmoving shape inside.When the metal gate creaked open, the Crescent Order stepped out in cautious clusters — dark coats, hoods, eyes glittering in the half-light. Trey emerged first, silver-eyed and rigid, shadows curling around him like an aura of cold fire. Beside him, Tyler was pushed forward roughly by one of the Order’s enforcers, wrists bound, lip split but eyes still defiant.Then came the Leader, calm in his silence, his gloved hands folded neatly behind his back as he approached Evans with measure

The rain pounded against the broken concrete like the drums of a gathering storm. Jackson’s lungs burned as he drew in one more ragged breath, eyes locked on Trey’s silhouette through the blur of wind and rising steam. All around them, the city seemed to hold its breath like a battlefield, soaked in shadows and the bitter heat of power colliding.Trey lunged, silver flames roaring along his arms. Jackson met him head-on, the Flameborn mark on his palm blazing brighter than it ever had. He could feel the difference this time — no hesitation, no fear of what he might become if he let it all in. He gave himself over to it, feeling the living fire burn through every muscle, every nerve, until he was the flame and the flame was him.They clashed in a violent dance of light and shadow, a brutal ballet of fists and sparks. Concrete cracked under their feet. Broken beams splintered like twigs. For every strike Trey landed, Jackson answered with ten more — a rising tide of heat that forced the

Evans gripped the wheel so hard the leather squeaked beneath his palms. The city lights blurred past the windshield in streaks of pale neon and brake-light red as he pushed the old black sedan faster than it was ever meant to go. Beside him, Jackson slumped against the passenger seat, half-conscious, his head lolling with each jolt of the road.But it wasn’t the bruises on Jackson’s face or the raw cut along his brow that twisted Evans’ gut into a cold knot, it was the mark. Or rather, the absence of it.Jackson’s hand lay palm-up on his thigh, limp and open in the sickly green dash light. Where the Flameborn sigil once glowed — the burning promise of an ancient line and all its terrifying power — there was now only bare skin, pale and unremarkable. A blank canvas where fire should have danced.Evans shot another glance at him. “Stay with me, Jackson. You hear me? We’re almost there.”Jackson stirred, eyelids flickering open long enough to find Evans’ face. His lips moved, but no soun

The underground sanctum of the Crescent Order was nothing like the ruins and temples the old legends whispered about. Having successfully extracted the flameborn from Jackson, it was time to transfer the powers to Tyler who was still not yet sure how all of what was happening had anything to do with him.Even if it was true that he had something against Jackson, he wasn't ready to be the host to some kind of ancient powers which in itself was scary enough to be heard about, let alone have it live inside of himBut to the members of the Crescent Order, his thoughts—whatever they were didn't matter.Dragging Tyler to the centre of the sanctum which was like an altar of the old religion, they made him kneel on a slab of cold black stone. His wrists were bound in ceremonial bands of copper and leather, and before him hovered the Orb pulsing with an eerie crimson glow that made his skin crawl.Gripped with so much fear now, Tyler watched as each member of the Crescent Order chanted in a t

When the tension finally eased Evans' attention returned to Bella whom he believed Dylan was able to get away from the grip of the members of Crescent Order while he was keeping them busy with Jackson playing him as a worthy prize before them.“Where did you take her?” Evans asked, his arms crossed.“Bella’s safe,” Dylan said, his voice measured, steady. “Nothing bad happened. Nothing will.”He already knew who Evans was refering to, and so didn't need to ask him who he was refering to.Evans rolled his eyes in his socket. “Don’t dance around this. You took her while I was keeping the Crescent’s dogs busy. You owe me more than vague reassurances.”A tired sigh slipped from Dylan’s throat as he closed the case with a quiet click. “I got her out through the old Eastway tunnels. I left her with someone I trust — safer than anywhere else right now.”Evans stepped forward, boots scuffing the dusty floor. “Someone you trust? You were Crescent Order once. What makes you think I should just t