The rain that evening was different.It didn’t fall from the clouds so much as descend, deliberate and heavy, every drop carrying a faint static hum that set teeth on edge. The city lights flickered. Streetlamps buzzed. In the high towers of Valente headquarters, Ethan Cross watched the storm gather like a living thing.He had seen wars. He had faced bullets, betrayals, and monsters that called themselves men. But this—this was something older, deeper. A pulse beneath creation itself.Below, the skyline glittered—glass and steel, power and illusion. Every block, every streetlight, every car crawling through the night was part of the machine he had rebuilt from chaos. After The Exchange and the Veins of Betrayal, his control had been absolute. The mafia families bowed, the city breathed in rhythm with his will. But lately, that rhythm faltered—just slightly, like a heart skipping a beat.Ava stood beside him at the window, arms crossed, her reflection pale and thoughtful. “It’s not jus

The rain had not stopped for three days.It drummed against the windows of the Rosemont estate like a warning — soft, relentless, and ancient. Ethan Cross hadn’t slept more than an hour at a time since the docks. Every time he closed his eyes, something else stirred behind them.He stood now before the window, hands pressed against the cold glass, watching the city lights blur into gold and shadow. His reflection looked nothing like the man he remembered. His eyes — darker, sharper, older — belonged to a version of him that had fought in another world.A knock came.Lucien entered, holding a file. “We traced the mark you saw at the docks — the Raven sigil. It’s been turning up across Europe. Black-market shipments. Arms deals. And every one of them ends the same way — dead men with black veins.”Ethan turned. “And the buyers?”“All ghosts. Fake names, burned accounts. But there’s something else.” Lucien slid the file across the table. “The ink used on the sigil — it’s mixed with hemat

Somewhere beyond the glass towers and siren-lit streets, something ancient had awakened—a hunger that did not belong to the modern world. The Rosemont estate, usually a fortress of calm opulence, now pulsed with unease. Shadows seemed thicker, the air heavier, as though silence itself had teeth.Ethan stood at the balcony of the east wing, his shirt unbuttoned, the faint phoenix mark on his chest still smoldering like dying embers. Below, the courtyard was alive with movement—armed security patrolling, motion sensors glowing faintly in the rain. He’d doubled the guards after the last attack, yet he could feel it—an unseen gaze watching from somewhere beyond.The Raven Court had returned.Behind him, Ava stirred. She’d fallen asleep on the couch hours ago, her hair spilling like ink across the cushions. Even in rest, her expression carried the weight of their shared fear—an echo of the night she had almost died in his arms.He turned when she spoke softly, half-asleep. “You’re still aw

The city glittered that night—cruel and beautiful, like a blade dipped in champagne. Beneath its towers, beneath the noise of sirens and rain, Ethan Cross began his hunt.Two hours had passed since Ava was taken. The west wing of the Rosemont estate still burned behind him, its smoke rising into the sky like a funeral pyre. Liam had survived, barely. The doctors said he would live, but Ethan barely heard them. His world had narrowed to a single purpose.Find her. Kill them.Burn the Raven Court to ash.He moved through the streets of New York as if he were walking through a warzone again—head down, eyes sharp, every shadow a potential threat. His black coat hid the faint glow of the phoenix mark still burning beneath his skin. He’d forced it down once already, but the power kept bleeding through, whispering for release.He knew the rules of this world. You didn’t go to the police when the Mafia and the mythic were involved. You went to those who lived between them—the ones who sold tr

The night was an open wound.Rain slashed across the shattered skyline of Rosemont, where fire still burned in the bones of the city. The Mirrorhouse had fallen — its illusions shattered, its secrets bared — and yet, within the ruin, something ancient had awakened.Ethan stood at the edge of the collapse, shirt torn, blood streaking his chest. The silver sigils beneath his skin pulsed faintly, flickering with light like dying embers. Behind him, the survivors moved with hollow eyes — guards, operatives, remnants of Ava’s protection detail. The Raven Court’s attack had ended, but the silence it left was heavier than war.Ava approached him through the rain. Her hair clung to her skin, her hands trembling as she reached for him.“Ethan… you shouldn’t even be standing.”He didn’t respond. His gaze was fixed on the distance — on the inferno where the Raven sigil burned like a mark upon the ruins.“They weren’t just testing us,” he murmured, voice low and hoarse. “They were retrieving some