LOGINThe phone rang again. Once. Twice. Three times. No one moved. The sound came from somewhere behind the stone wall of the archive corridor, muffled but unmistakable. Julian’s gaze swept across the room. Vance had his weapon raised. Clara stood beside him. Maya remained frozen, the photograph of her father clutched tightly in her hand. A fourth ring. Then silence. Maya finally looked at Vance. “You knew my father.” Vance didn’t deny it. “Yes.” “How long?” “Years.” Her expression hardened. “And you never told me?” “I didn’t know who you were when I first met him.” “You knew his name.” “Yes.” “You knew he was connected to Bloodmoon.” “I knew he had dealings with Julian’s family.” “That isn’t an answer.” Vance lowered his weapon. “No. It isn’t.” Julian stepped between them. “Vance.” Vance looked at him. “You’re going to tell us everything.” “I will.” “Now.” Vance glanced toward the corridor. “Not here.” Maya shook her
The archive door remained sealed. Maya stood motionless, staring at the figure emerging from between the ancient shelves. The emergency light above them flickered. Once. Twice. Then steadied. Julian raised his weapon. “Show your face.” The figure didn’t move. A dark coat. Black gloves. A silver mask covering the upper half of the face. Maya’s pulse accelerated. “Who are you?” The stranger tilted his head. “You’ve spent years asking the wrong question.” Julian stepped in front of Maya. “Last warning.” The stranger laughed softly. “You still think every problem can be solved by threatening it.” Julian’s jaw tightened. “Take off the mask.” Instead, the stranger lifted one hand. A small device appeared between his fingers. Maya recognized it immediately. “A detonator.” Julian’s eyes narrowed. “For what?” “The archive.” Maya looked around. There were hundreds of documents surrounding them. Ancient contracts. Bloodline records.
The alarm changed pitch. Maya knew what it meant before Vance’s voice came through the comms. “Breach.” Julian’s head snapped toward the vault entrance. “How close?” “East armory.” A violent impact shook the underground corridor. The lights flickered. Then went out. For three seconds, Bloodmoon disappeared into darkness. Emergency lights came alive, bathing the stone walls in red. Maya tightened her grip on her weapon. “They’re inside.” Julian looked toward the sealed archive door. The succession file was still open on the screen. SUBJECT: MAYA VALE. They had barely begun to understand why her name was inside the ancestral records. Now the enemy was already moving through the estate. “We go back,” Julian said. Maya shook her head. “The archive—” “Can wait.” “Julian.” He stepped closer. “Whatever is inside that vault, we won’t understand it if we lose the estate first.” Maya held his gaze. Then she nodded. They turned toward the cor
The moment Julian stepped into the master suite, he knew something was wrong. Not because the room looked different. It didn’t. The fire still burned low in the marble hearth. The curtains remained drawn against the pale morning light. Maya’s coat was still draped over the chair beside the window. Everything appeared exactly as it had when they left. Too exactly. Julian stopped. Maya, walking behind him, nearly collided with his back. “What is it?” He raised one hand. Silence. She listened. Nothing. Then the secure landline on the desk rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Neither of them moved. The line was isolated from the estate’s main communications system. It couldn’t be reached through ordinary channels. Julian crossed the room slowly. Maya’s hand moved toward the weapon beneath her jacket. He picked up the receiver. “Who is this?” Static answered him. Then a distorted voice. “You dismantled the board.” Julian’s expression hardened.
The bakery was the last place Vance expected to find himself after a night of blood, encrypted transmissions, and threats against the Luna. Yet somehow, there he was. Sitting beneath a ridiculous brass chandelier in a mint-green artisan bakery while Clara studied the pastry display as though choosing the wrong dessert might trigger an international crisis. Vance sat opposite her, shoulders squared, eyes moving automatically across the room. Two exits. One service door. Four windows. Three cameras. No obvious weapons. The woman behind the counter was alone. He checked the reflection in the glass display case. Clear. Clara caught him doing it. “You’re doing it again.” Vance looked at her. “Doing what?” “Scanning the bakery like you’re about to raid it.” “I’m observing.” “You’ve checked the door six times.” “Five.” She smiled. “That somehow makes it worse.” Vance leaned back. “I don’t like unsecured environments.” “This is a bakery.” “Exactly
By morning, Bloodmoon Estate no longer felt like home. It felt like a fortress waiting for an attack. Armed guards stood at every entrance. Security teams patrolled the outer grounds, while the estate’s internal surveillance system had been placed on maximum alert. Every vehicle entering or leaving was searched. Every communication channel was being monitored. No one knew who had breached the estate’s system. That was what frightened Julian the most. An enemy outside could be seen. An enemy inside could already be standing beside you. Vance stood inside the command room, staring at the security screens. Three hours. That was how long they had been searching. Three hours, and they had found nothing. No footprints. No forced entry. No unfamiliar vehicles. Nothing. It was almost as if the person responsible had never been there. “Run the access logs again,” Vance ordered. One of the technicians looked up. “We’ve already run them six times.” “Then run them seven.” The t







