"Fear?" Evans's voice was sharp. "They killed my father because they were afraid?""Fear can be more dangerous than hatred," Jason said quietly. "Fear makes people do terrible things. And Copper and Whitaker were terrified—terrified of what the Silver Phoenix could do, terrified of what George might become, terrified of losing everything they had fought to protect."Evans was silent for a long moment, his breath ragged. Then he said, "How do you know all of this? How do you know what they did?"Jason's face was unreadable. "Because I was the one who helped them cover it up."Evans stared at him, his world tilting on its axis. "You helped them?""I was young. I was loyal to Philip. And I believed—truly believed—that what they were doing was necessary." Jason's voice cracked. "I've carried that guilt for fifteen years, Evans. I've never been able to forgive myself. And I know that your father deserved better."Evans stood frozen, his mind reeling. The man who had just offered him the tr

The first pale light of dawn crept over the Hart estate, painting the sky in shades of gold and rose.Evans sat in the garden until the stars faded, his mind still churning with the weight of everything he had learned. The cold had seeped into his bones, but he barely noticed. He was numb—numb to the cold, numb to the pain, numb to everything except the ache in his chest.Lorraine had stayed with him through the night, her presence a quiet anchor in the storm. She hadn't pushed him to talk, hadn't demanded answers. She had simply been there, and that had been enough.As the sun began to rise, Evans finally stood. His legs were stiff, his eyes heavy, but he couldn't rest. He couldn't sleep. Not when the truth was still burning inside him."I'm going inside," he said, his voice hoarse.Lorraine stood with him, her hand still resting on his arm. "I'll bring you some coffee."He nodded, unable to speak.***Evans walked through the quiet halls of the estate, his footsteps echoing in the s

Jackson shook his head. "I don't know. He's been avoiding me all day. And when I finally cornered him, he told me to leave him alone."Jacqueline's brow furrowed. "James? Avoiding you? That doesn't sound like him.""Exactly." Jackson's voice was strained. "He mentioned his mother's death. The fire. He asked me if I ever wondered about it. Like there was something more to it."Jacqueline's face grew thoughtful. "Do you think something happened? Something he's discovered?""I don't know. He wouldn't tell me." Jackson ran a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding through his calm. "I tried to reach out. I tried to help. But he just... pushed me away."Jacqueline was silent for a moment. Then she said, "I saw James earlier today. With Jason."Jackson's brow furrowed. "With Jason?""I was passing by and I saw them talking. I didn't hear what they said—I was too far away—but I saw Jason give James something. I think it was a pendant."Jackson sat up straighter, his attention sharpening.

Whitaker leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the photograph of the mysterious woman. Her face was half-hidden in shadow, but there was something about her posture, her presence, that made his skin crawl.Who are you? he wondered. And what do you want with the Harts?***Jason slipped out of the estate under the cover of darkness, moving with the practiced silence of someone who had done this many times before. Jackson followed at a distance, his heart pounding, his mind racing.The path led through the forest, past the old well, to a crumbling church on the outskirts of the estate. It wasn't St. Michael's where they had with him before.This was a different church, and merely looking at it from a distance, it gave Jackson the feeling that something was wrong.It wasn't just enough that the building was abandoned, its windows were also dark, and its roof sagging. But as Jason approached, Jackson saw a faint light flickering through the broken windows.He watched from the shadow

It wasn't even up to two minutes that Sophia stormed out, when all of a sudden from the doorway, a voice spoke—old and cracked, but steady."Marcia."Everyone turned. Old Man Miles stood in the doorway, his face pale, his eyes shadowed with memory. He had heard the commotion and come to investigate."Who's Marcia?" Ruth demanded.Miles walked into the room slowly, his eyes were distant, lost in a past he had tried to forget."Marcia was a Warden," he said. "One of the best. She was brilliant, fierce, and utterly devoted to the order. But she was also ambitious. She believed that the Wardens should not just protect the Harts—they should control them."James's brow furrowed. "Control them?""She believed that the Harts were too powerful, too dangerous to be left to their own devices. She wanted to seize control of the Hart legacy and use it to reshape the world." Miles's voice grew heavy. "When the order discovered her plans, they exiled her. Stripped her of her rank, her title, her po