Blake stood rigidly in Elara’s study, after a strenuous week of trying to get all the information he could gather about Ruth—Jackson's mother and whether or not she was really alive as they were thinking. His coat smelled faintly of smoke and rain, a sign of the night’s endless pursuit. He cleared his throat, lowering his voice as if the walls themselves might overhear.“I have leads,” he reported, setting a thin dossier on her polished desk. “On Ruth. According to what I’ve gathered… she’s alive. And she’s searching for Jackson.”Elara, perched elegantly on the edge of her chair, lifted her glass of red wine but didn’t drink. The pause was deliberate, and then what followed after, was her wicked smile. At last, she tilted her head, her dark hair sliding like silk over her shoulder.“Alive…” she echoed, her voice equal parts wonder and venom. “So the accident didn’t claim her after all.” She leaned forward, her eyes catching the candlelight with a dangerous glint. “Verify it. Everythi

Professor Layton’s study had always been his sanctuary—a place where he reminisced about how he had ended up becoming the man he was without a wife or a child of his own.Sometimes, as painful as the memories of his past could be, it was still the only thing that kept pushing him forward—a love with Anna Louise Jones that never happened because of Philip Hart.But while in the pool of these thoughts, the light flickered and abruptly died, plunging the room into darkness.Then came the wind. Not a gentle draft, but a sharp gust that rattled the windows, toppled loose papers from his desk, and sent them swirling like startled birds. Layton’s hands shook as he tried to gather the scattered documents, his voice catching in his throat.And then he felt it. That presence.Slowly, with dread weighing down every movement, he turned.There, standing just inside the room, framed by the sudden return of the electric glow, was a figure he had hoped never to see again. Victor Vaughan.Tall, sharp

The hallway outside the suites of Sky Tower was silent, muted after the noise of the party had died away. Only the muffled hum of the city far below drifted through the glass panes. Mr. Copper reached into his pocket to fish out his key card that opened the door to his suite when his phone buzzed, and when he pulled out his phone from his pocket to see who it was that was calling him, the screen read Grayson Mannon.Grayson Mannon was one of the few loyalists to the Hart's Empire and was one of the few people who were at Sky Tower Summit on the day that Copper had introduced Jackson to the rest of the Hart's loyalists just few weeks after he got to know that his father owned everything that was under the Hart's name.Relief softened his face—Grayson seldom called this late unless it was urgent. He answered instantly, lowering his voice so as not to disturb the others.“Grayson, I trust everything’s—”But the words froze in his throat. The voice that spilled from the receiver was not

The suite was silent, but Jackson’s thoughts were not. He sat slumped against the headboard of his bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, yet what he saw wasn’t Sky Tower’s white plaster. It was the dream, the nightmare that had haunted him before: James, Nancy, Andrew, Bella… all lying lifeless in pools of blood, their faces twisted in fear, their bodies mangled by an enemy he couldn’t stop. The bloodbath replayed in fragments, each flash sharper than the last, until he jolted upright with a sharp intake of breath. His chest rose and fell in ragged pulls, sweat clinging to his skin.His hands trembled as he reached for the flame that had once answered every call, the golden fire that had made him Flameborn. But again, there was nothing. Just cold fingers, empty veins, and silence. He squeezed his fists shut, whispering through clenched teeth, “If I’d gone with Evans… if I hadn’t stayed to fight Trey, maybe… maybe this wouldn’t have happened.” The thought burned deeper than any flame. He h

When Jackson returned to his friends, their curious faces told him they wouldn’t let the matter slide.“So?” James asked, tilting his head with his ever usual mischievous smirk. “What did the senator’s daughter want? Did she finally confess her undying love for you?”Nancy rolled her eyes and elbowed him sharply. “Don’t be ridiculous, James. This is Joanne Moore we’re talking about. Tell us, Jackson. What did she say?”Jackson sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew keeping it to himself would only make things worse later, so he didn’t hesitate. “She overheard a conversation between Tyler and Trey. According to her, they’re planning something against the entire university. She said my name came up too, but she couldn’t catch the details.”The laughter that had filled their reunion drained instantly. The group exchanged uneasy glances, the reality of Jackson’s words settling like a storm cloud over them.Before James or Nancy could reply, Hailey drew in a sharp breath. “That m