They got to the house and found Adrian at the entrance. He was in the middle of a phone call, pacing near the steps, his voice low and urgent. The moment he saw their car pull in, he stopped mid-sentence. “…I’ll call you back.” He said into the phone, then ended the call. He turned toward them, and for once, his usual easy smile was nowhere to be found. His eyes flicked from Barry’s car to Michael’s stiff posture. “You made it, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t glad.” Michael opened his mouth to reply, but then his chest seized. It hit him like a hammer from the inside. He gasped, stumbling forward as a sharp pain ripped through his ribs. His hand flew to his suit jacket. “Michael?” Celia called, fear instantly in her voice. He staggered, breathing uneven. With trembling fingers, he reached inside his jacket and pulled out the totem. The fabric around it had been burned clean through, the edges charred and curling. It glowed fiercely, heat rolling off it in waves. Blood dripped from

Jace stepped forward in panic, “Mira. What are you doing out here? Where are you going at this time of the night?” She took down her hood and met his gaze, “What's with that expression of yours?” When Jace looked at her without saying a word,she let out a sigh and zipped open the bag she was carrying… Revealing the totems glowing faintly under the moonlight. Jace stared into the open bag, his throat going dry. “All seven of the totems…” He breathed. “Mira, what the hell are you doing?” She closed the bag carefully, like it held something fragile instead of dangerous. “Leaving.” She firmly replied. “With the totems?” His voice dropped. “You’re taking them? Mira, that's stealing.” “I’m reclaiming them. There's a difference. Jace ran a hand through his hair. “You don’t get to decide that. Not after everything we did to get them.” Her eyes hardened. “Everything you did. Don’t lump me into that like I was just along for the ride.” “What does that even mean?” “It means…” she be

Michael crushed the note in his fist after reading it for the third time, as if squeezing it hard enough might change the words written on it. “Bring the totems to the Blackwood estate if you want to see her again.” Barry paced the length of the cabin like a trapped animal, running both hands through his hair. “How did they even track us all the way out here?” He muttered, voice strained. “This place was supposed to be off the grid.” He stopped suddenly, dread settling in. “And the worst part is, we don’t even have the totems.” That was the part that hit hardest. Michael stood still near the doorway, staring at nothing. For a few seconds, his mind went completely blank. No anger. No fear. Just a hollow pause, like the world had cut its sound. Celia. His chest tightened. He forced a breath in, slow and deliberate, grounding himself. Falling apart wasn’t an option, not now. “Blackwood estate.” He said at last, his voice steady again. “That means Victor has her.” Barry looked a

Michael and Barry had just finished gearing up in the cramped hotel room, the air was thick with tension. The place wasn’t fancy, just a low-lit room not far from the Blackwood estate, close enough to observe but far enough to avoid suspicion. A single lamp buzzed softly as Michael spread a sheet of paper across the small table and picked up a pen. "I've memorized the blueprint of the estate before. Too bad we can't access that sketch anymore because the house got sold. We just have to make do with what we got.” Michael said, eyes narrowed as he began to draw. His hand moved with practiced certainty, sketching out the estate from memory, the outer gates, the long driveway, the guard towers, the main building, and the secondary wings. “Security’s layered. Cameras here, here, and here.” He muttered, marking small Xs on different spots. “Patrol routes overlap every ten minutes.” Barry leaned over his shoulder, arms crossed. “Can’t believe you actually still have that sketch in your h

The Blackwood men and guards stood in a tight line, staring down the force gathered outside the estate gates. Weapons were gripped, fingers were tense on triggers, eyes were sharp with anticipation. The night felt heavy, like it was holding its breath. Victor Blackwood broke the stillness first. He began walking toward the gate with slow, confident steps, as if the army waiting outside was nothing more than a mild inconvenience. Adrian followed a pace behind him, his posture was stiff, and the guard holding Celia by the arm stayed close while keeping her firmly restrained. They stopped just a few inches away from the iron bars, close enough to hear each other clearly, close enough for hatred and desperation to hang thick in the air. Victor tilted his head slightly, his expression lazy, almost bored. “You know you’re being really stubborn, right?” He said with a cruel smile, “All you have to do is hand over the totems, and I’ll give you back your little girlfriend.” “Michael, d