The weight of the watcher’s presence pressed against the walls like a tangible force. Grey’s blade remained steady in his hand, the faint glow of the lantern casting long shadows that flickered eerily across the corridor. Lana’s breath came shallow, her fingers still curled tightly around the locket’s chain beneath her blouse.Seraphine’s eyes narrowed as she studied the figure before them. “We don’t know how many have infiltrated the estate. This one is likely a scout, testing our defenses.”The watcher’s voice was cold and hollow, as though it carried the echo of centuries. “Your resistance is commendable, but futile. The locket will be ours.”Grey’s jaw clenched. “Tell me this — why the locket? What power does it hold?”The watcher tilted its head, the faintest smile playing across lips hidden in shadow. “Power isn’t the right word. The locket is a map — a key to what lies beneath this house. The fire you speak of did not destroy the truth, only buried it.”Lana’s pulse quickened.

The tunnel narrowed as they moved, the air growing heavier with the scent of stone and damp earth. Lana stayed between Grey and Seraphine, her fingers brushing the cold wall to keep balance. The lantern light swayed with each step, throwing uneven shadows across the engraved markings in the rock.Grey moved with practiced precision, every sense sharp. He didn’t like the silence — not because it was calming, but because it felt too perfect, as if someone had cleared the space for them to walk right into a trap.“What’s at the end of this?” Lana asked quietly.Seraphine’s eyes flicked back at her. “An old vault. And if the watchers—” She stopped herself, correcting — “If they’ve sent people, they’ll be waiting for us.”“People?” Lana’s voice wavered slightly.“Hired,” Seraphine said simply. “The kind you don’t negotiate with unless you’re holding something sharper than a pen.”Grey’s jaw tightened. “Armed?”“Always.”They pressed on.The first sound came as a metallic click — faint, but

The city skyline shimmered beyond the penthouse windows, every lit tower casting its reflection across the dark glass. Lana stood near the edge, still wrapped in Grey’s coat, the scent of leather and faint cologne lingering like an anchor after the chaos.She hadn’t spoken much during the drive back. Her hands were steady now, but only because she’d kept them clenched around the locket the entire way.Grey crossed the room silently, setting the chest on the polished marble table between them. The gleam of brass caught the firelight from the wall-mounted hearth, throwing gold across his face.Seraphine lingered near the door, scanning the street below through the narrow gap in the curtains. “We weren’t followed. For now.”“For now isn’t good enough,” Grey replied without turning.Lana’s voice broke the quiet. “How many more of them will come?”Seraphine looked over her shoulder. “Enough to make tonight look like a warm-up.”Grey met Lana’s eyes. “That’s why we move fast. Before they re

The private jet cut through the clouds like a blade, the hum of its engines a low, steady rhythm beneath the silence in the cabin. Lana sat by the window, her reflection caught in the dark glass, the vast Atlantic stretching endlessly below.She hadn’t asked where in Europe they were going — not exactly. Grey had only said, “Somewhere they won’t expect us yet.” And she’d let it stand, because she wasn’t sure she could handle any more truths tonight.The chest sat secured in a steel case across from them, strapped tight to the floor. Its presence was a weight in the room, heavier than the leather seats, heavier than the distance stretching between her and Grey.Seraphine sat a row back, perfectly still, her arms folded across her chest, eyes closed as if she were sleeping. But Lana had seen the way she’d scanned the tarmac before boarding, the way her fingers brushed the inside of her coat where a weapon surely rested. Rest was a luxury Seraphine never allowed herself.Grey hadn’t said

The fire in the study had burned low by the time Grey returned. Lana was there already, curled in one of the leather chairs, her legs tucked beneath her as though she belonged in that space. The shadows thrown by the flames climbed the high shelves and chased each other along the ceiling beams, turning the room into a kind of private world.Grey poured himself a measure of whiskey but didn’t drink it. Instead, he set the glass aside and leaned against the edge of the desk, watching her.“You’ve been quiet,” he said.“I’ve been thinking.”“About?”She looked up at him, her expression caught somewhere between defiance and vulnerability. “How none of this feels real. Not the house, not this chest full of secrets, not even you. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll wake up back in my old apartment, and this will all have been some ridiculous dream.”Grey’s gaze softened, though his voice stayed even. “And if it is?”Her throat tightened. “Then I don’t want to wake up.”The words slipped out before s