The mansion fell into its late-night rhythm—quiet halls, lowered lights, and guards lulled by routine. That was Goran’s window. A small bird silhouette cut across the moonlight outside the basement wing. It slipped past the upper guard post and swooped down to the shadowed edges near the cell corridor. Once hidden in the alcove, it shimmered. Within seconds, Goran stood in human form, brushing feathers off his jacket like lint.
He pressed his back to the cold wall and listened. Two guards. One was yawning, the other humming under his breath. Neither paid any mind as a small black cat slinked by their boots, tail flicking indifferently.
Moments later, the cat was gone—and Goran stood again, just outside the reinforced door of Aaron’s cell.
He bypassed the lock with claws. The door groaned slightly on its hinges, but not enough to raise alarms. Inside, Aaron sat cross-legged on the cot, eyes closed as if in meditation.
They snapped open.
“Took you long enough,” Aaron said with a half-smile. “Thought maybe you grew a conscience.”
“Conscience? I left that behind when I joined Torin’s pack of psychos,” Goran muttered, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. “Keep your voice down.”
Aaron stood and approached, tension easing from his shoulders.
“I didn’t know you were ready to throw your whole undercover mission away for me,” Aaron teased. “Who would’ve thought Goran would do something without getting paid for it?”
Goran rolled his eyes. “You’re lucky I don’t punch you for that.”
Aaron grinned wider. “So… this is a rescue?”
“You didn’t think I’d let them keep you locked up in this hellhole, did you?” Goran moved closer. “Back exit. One guard patrol every twenty minutes. You’ve got three minutes once the lights go dark.”
The cell door clicked behind Goran as he left. For a long moment, Aaron didn’t move; he simply stared at the spot where his friend had stood, his mind swirling with confusion. He hadn’t expected help—not really. In fact, he’d been prepared to spend another long stretch of time locked away in this damn cell, alone with his thoughts.
Every corner he turned was eerily empty. Not a single guard in sight. Not a sound, not even the distant hum of a camera. He moved faster, his breath steady despite the nagging feeling that something was off. The hallways stretched on, empty and silent.
Too clean. Too quiet.
His instincts, honed over years of surviving in the shadows, screamed at him that this was wrong. A trap? Maybe. But there was no sign of anyone coming after him. No alarms. No shouts. No boots pounding the floor behind him. He checked the corridor one last time, lingering for a moment by a corner, straining his ears for any sound of pursuit. Still nothing.
They’re either blind, or I’m walking into a setup, he thought grimly, a cold chill creeping down his spine.
But the path Goran had told him about remained, as promised, perfectly clear. The panel opened just like he said it would—a hidden mechanism that Aaron had no trouble triggering. Behind it, a narrow tunnel stretched forward, just wide enough to crawl through, and Goran’s voice echoed in his mind, reminding him that it would lead him to the lower compound gates, where a blind spot in the cameras had been carefully planned for his escape.
And despite his doubts, Aaron knew that he had no choice but to move forward.
The tunnel was as narrow as it had seemed in the planning, but it opened into the night air sooner than expected. He slipped out of the compound, the cool breeze brushing against his face as he emerged, unnoticed. The gates were wide open. The shadows were deep, and for a moment, the world felt still—suspended, like everything had frozen in place.
He stayed low, checking once more for any sign of pursuit. Still nothing. No alarms. No sounds of footsteps. No warning lights flashing.
He glanced back over his shoulder, trying to catch the faintest movement, the faintest noise that might tell him if anyone was coming. But the compound was dead silent. He pushed forward, faster now, thinking of nothing but the escape, the freedom that waited just ahead.
But something kept gnawing at him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was too easy. Too perfect. He should have had to fight for this. At the very least, he should’ve seen someone—guards, cameras, alarms. Anything.
No, no one was following. No one was shouting his name. And that—more than anything—made his skin crawl.
Either he was just incredibly lucky… Or someone wanted him to get out…
***
In the early morning, both Fosin and Lili stood before a furious Torin in the grand hall of the mansion. Lili, as always, was dressed in her usual attire—the dark, elegant cloak, with her face hidden behind the mask that had become her signature. Her posture was stiff, but inside, she could feel the weight of her exhaustion creeping up on her.
“You warned us that Goran was looking for ways into the cell!” Torin’s eyes were sharp, filled with anger, and his fists were clenched at his sides. “And still, you let him free our prisoner!? How could you let that happen, Lili!?”
Lili didn’t flinch. She knew the drill by now—she had been in this situation countless times.
Before Lili could respond, Fosin stepped in.
“Lili immediately reported to me the moment Goran made his move. It was my order, father,” he said, his gaze fixed on Torin. “I told her not to intervene.”
Torin’s gaze snapped to Fosin. He could tell that Fosin was doing his best to smooth things over, but it only seemed to make the situation worse.
“You gave her orders?” Torin’s tone was a mix of disbelief and frustration. “You allowed her to make that decision, and now we’re dealing with a loose end!”
Lili could feel her heart rate pick up. She hadn’t expected Torin to be this angry. But then again, she couldn’t blame him. The situation was dangerous, and if Goran had any kind of agenda—if he had been playing both sides all along—it would make everything infinitely worse.
Her mask hid any sign of the growing unease in her chest.
“I reported exactly what happened,” Lili said, her voice steady, though there was a cold edge to it. “Goran was always slippery. He must have had a reason to let Aaron go. That much is clear.”
Torin took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair, clearly trying to regain his composure. He was the patriarch, the one who had built everything they had, and his anger was always a storm that passed eventually. But that didn’t make it any easier.
Fosin stepped closer to Lili. He rested a hand briefly on her shoulder before turning his gaze back to his father. His voice remained calm, but there was a thread of warning stitched through every word.
“We’ll handle it, father. Goran will answer for his betrayal,” he said, letting the words settle. “But let’s be clear—this isn’t the time to act rashly. We’re already balancing too many threats. The last thing we need is to provoke Deran into striking first, not when we’re still recovering from the last blow.”
A tense silence stretched between them as Fosin studied Torin’s face, trying to read his shifting thoughts.
“And at least we gained something from this disaster,” Lili said. “Now we know that Goran works for Deran. And we know what kind of Gift he possesses.”
She let her words linger before adding, “But if you want him dead—if that’s your decision—then say the word. I’ll take care of it myself.”
Torin’s jaw clenched so tightly a vein pulsed along his temple. For a long moment, he said nothing—just stared at Lili as if trying to peel away the mask with sheer force of will.
Then he turned to Fosin. “You gambled,” he said. “You let her stand down. And now Deran has his man back. You may think you controlled the damage—but what happens when Deran uses Goran against us?”
He turned back to Lili next. “And you. You act like this is a chessboard and you’re a piece waiting to be moved. Don’t offer to kill him like you’re doing us a favor. You’re the reason he got that close in the first place.”
“You’re right, sir,” Lili replied, her voice steady, though every muscle in her body screamed for her to push back. Even now, that damn voice—dark and persistent since the bullet had torn through her shoulder—whispered inside her skull. Stand your ground. Teach him to fear you.
Torin watched her, eyes narrowed with that same cold, sharp disappointment. He didn’t look satisfied with her obedience—but he didn’t press further.
“You still haven’t come close to solving the destruction of two of our facilities,” he said, his voice clipped, impatient.
“Theoretically, I have,” Lili answered, not quite agreeing—but not backing down either. “A fire Gifted. He admitted to the attacks. I managed to wound him and was seconds away from finishing the job—until Aaron appeared and interfered.”
Torin’s expression didn’t change, but Fosin’s head tilted slightly, paying closer attention.
“But I’ll find him again,” she continued. “For now, he’s too injured to make another move. That gives us time.”
Silence stretched again. Tension still hung in the air, but her words bought her a sliver of ground—maybe not trust, but space to keep moving.
Torin’s lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line. He said nothing at first, only studied her with that same cold calculation he reserved for enemies and disappointments alike. “You’re buying time with excuses. Not results.”
Lili didn’t flinch, though the words struck deep. Her mask hid the flicker of emotion that crossed her eyes—something between defiance and fatigue.
“I don’t care how injured he is,” Torin continued. “I want that fire Gifted dead. The same goes for Aaron, whether Deran protects him or not. They made the first move. Let them bleed for it.”
Fosin shifted slightly, his gaze flicking once to Lili—quietly reading her.
Torin stepped back, signaling the end of the conversation. “I expect updates soon. If you haven’t found them by then, I’ll send someone else. And don’t count on me being as patient next time.”
He turned and walked away without waiting for a response.
Fosin lingered a moment longer after Torin had left the room. Then, in a quieter voice that didn’t match the tension that had just passed, he asked, “You okay?”
Lili’s head snapped toward him in surprise. Of all things he could’ve said, that question was the last she expected. Fosin never cared about her well-being—at least, not in any way that mattered. Not out loud.
“I’m fine,” she replied flatly, keeping her voice neutral.
Fosin studied her a moment longer, but didn’t press. “Get some rest. You will need it.”
He turned and walked off, leaving her alone in the hallway with the weight of unspoken questions and the faint stirrings of doubt crawling beneath her skin.
The moment Lili turned to leave, a strange sensation coiled up her throat—thick, burning, unnatural. Her steps faltered. She tore off the facemask and clamped a hand over her mouth just as a violent cough wracked her body.
When the fit passed, she pulled her hand away and stared at her palm.
Dark, almost black blood.
Her breath caught. Her hand trembled. A flicker of fear crept up her spine. Something was wrong. And whatever it was, it wasn’t done with her yet…
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