Clayton Adams’s eyes had gone glassy, fixed on the ceiling, his breath all but stilled.“Old Adams, don’t you scare me—” Ruby Scott clutched the window frame, tears spilling uncontrollably. Everyone in the room was taut with dread.“Let me see!” William Lane hurried over to take Clayton’s pulse, his brows knitting tighter and tighter. “This shouldn’t be happening…”“I’ve already dispersed the baleful miasma—why has it gathered again, and so quickly?”He pried open Clayton’s eyelids for a closer look, disbelief stark on his face. The speed of the resurgence was far beyond anything he’d anticipated.“Dr. Lane, please—purge it again,” Ruby pleaded, desperate enough to take the needles herself if she could.Lane shook his head. “Madam, you don’t understand. Expelling this miasma is extremely taxing and must not be interrupted. A single disruption could endanger the patient’s life.”“Even if I could keep placing needles without pause, each session would only hold for minutes at best. Back-

Watching the seconds slip away, Finn Thompson didn’t dare lose another moment. The instant he reached Lakeview Park, he broke into a jog, scanning the grounds for any sign of Adrian.Adrian was just about to step onto the boat when he heard someone calling behind him.“Dr. Doyle—”Someone was indeed calling for him. He turned and saw Finn Thompson sprinting over, sweat pouring down his temples.Finn’s face lit with relief when he realized he hadn’t mistaken his man. He hurried up to Adrian, panting, and thumped his chest to catch his breath. “Thank God… thank God…”“Dr. Doyle, I’m not here to disrupt your day, but the mayor, he—”Adrian lifted a hand to cut him off. “I already know what this is about. The mayor doubted me first, and his wife insulted me after. You don’t need to say another word. I won’t be taking the case.”Finn blanched at that. “Dr. Doyle, I know you and the mayor’s wife had an unpleasant encounter. The mayor has already reprimanded her—he truly didn’t realize how o

“Glad to,” Adrian said with a casual wave, rising to his feet.The next room was Clayton Adams’s study—where he often spent his time. He slapped his forehead. “That’s right—this is where I suddenly felt awful today!”“Then we’re on the right track.”Adrian opened the door and stepped in first. The study was meticulously kept: books lined up in careful order on the shelves, almost nothing extraneous.His gaze swept from the shelves to the desk, then to a row of display racks along the back wall.He stopped.There.Adrian strode over. In the center of the display stood a three-footed bronze cup—an unquestionably ancient piece.Even from a glance he could see a film of old polish on its surface, a patina—and a cold, sinister aura coiling about it.A steady seep of black vapor was unfurling from the cup, spreading outward.Adrian lifted the bronze vessel, weighing it in his hand.“Someone must have gifted this to me,” Clayton said. “It was ages ago—I can’t remember who. It looked old, so

“Miss Daisy, how’s the company holding up?”Daisy shot a glance at the two men who had treated them like furniture all day and muttered under her breath, “How do you think? Since morning, no one’s been able to do a thing.”“The entire company, top to bottom, has been ordered to stop work.”She drew a long breath to steady herself. All day long, whenever any department so much as stirred, the inspection team swooped in with “cooperation required” and sealed every document and device on the spot.If they were truly inspecting, fine—but after an entire day, they found nothing and still refused to leave.As long as they stayed, the staff couldn’t move a muscle.Daisy wasn’t afraid of scrutiny. But this? This was pure, deliberate waste.While they were still wracking their brains, one of Roger Irving’s subordinates finally approached with a file.“Mr. Irving, we’ve completed our checks. As of now, we haven’t found any issues in Hill Group’s operations.”“Completed?” Roger didn’t even look

“We’re being tailed.”The driver had noticed the cars behind them as well. Face set, he worked the wheel, trying to shake them through speed changes and detours.But no matter what he tried, the same familiar license plates kept surfacing in the rearview mirror.Their pursuers were clever—melding into traffic, looping around on purpose to stay invisible.“Mr. Doyle, they don’t look like ordinary people.”Adrian chuckled. “I see that. With tracking this subtle, even if we called the police, they wouldn’t be able to pin anything down.”That was clearly their calculation—obvious in a way that still wasn’t “obvious.”The driver nodded. “I count seven cars.”“No—eight.”Adrian narrowed his eyes at a white sedan slipping out of the flow. Not one more, not one less: eight.“Eight cars?”Tabitha sobered up at once, anxiety chasing the last of the alcohol from her system.Daisy struggled upright, trying to look out the back, but Adrian covered her eyes and eased her down again.“Don’t worry ab