The sleet was turning to snow, a wet, heavy blanket that muffled the world.
On the roof of St. Swithin's, the assassin did not feel the cold. He was a professional. He was a tool built for one purpose. He had his orders. He had his target.
He moved from the chimney stack, his heavy, oilskin coat making no sound in the wind. He walked to the edge of the roof, a dark shadow against the gray, churning sky. He looked down, three stories, at the main quad. Empty. It was 9 PM. Curfew.
He pulled a small, powerful grappling hook from his belt, the metal oiled and dark, gleaming dully in the low light. He secured it to the stone parapet, the hook biting into the ancient, ice-covered rock. He tested it with his full weight, a silent, heavy pressure. Satisfied, he descended. He was a spider, dropping down the ancient stone wall, his boots finding small, sure holds in the masonry. He bypassed the empty third-floor dorms and stopped at a large, second-floor window. The library.
With a muffled crack from a small, specialized tool, he broke the lock. The heavy window slid open with a soft shhhh. He slipped inside, his wet boots landing on the expensive, plush carpet without a sound.
The library was dark, lit only by the green-shaded lamps on the reading desks, casting pools of isolated light in a sea of shadows. The air smelled of old paper, leather, and floor polish. It was the perfect hunting ground.
He pulled the short-barreled shotgun from his back. He chambered a shell. The shlick-shlack was deafening in the tomblike silence.
He began to move, a black shadow in a room of shadows. He was here for one person. Emily Cronus.
Emily was, in fact, in the library.
She was not studying. She was sitting in her alcove, staring at a page of poetry that she hadn't turned in an hour.
She was furious.
She was furious at Eiden for being a liar, a spy, a user. She was furious at herself for trusting him. For hugging him in that alley. For sleeping on his shoulder on that stupid train. She had let her guard down. She had been played. She had been a fool. A naive, stupid fool. "He's just... a tool," she muttered to herself, echoing Eiden's own cold logic. "A weapon. That's all. And I was stupid enough to... to..." "To what?"
Emily jumped, her heart leaping into her throat. Linda was standing there, holding a blanket, her face pale.
"Linda! You scared me."
"Sorry," Linda whispered. She looked... small. "I... I couldn't sleep. Can I... can I just sit here? My room is too quiet. I keep... hearing things. That village... I... I see that... monster... every time I close my eyes."
Emily sighed. The Bletchworth trip had truly broken her arrogant cousin. The "Parisian Thorn" was gone, replaced by a terrified child. "Fine, Linda. But be quiet. I'm thinking."
Linda sat, huddling under the blanket. The two girls sat in the alcove, two lonely princesses in their tower, lit by a single reading lamp.
And then they heard it.
Shlick-shlack.
The sound of a shotgun shell being chambered. It was close. In the library.
Linda and Emily froze. They looked at each other, their eyes wide. "What... what was that?" Linda whispered, her voice trembling. Emily didn't answer. She was already moving. Her rage, her frustration, all of it vanished, replaced by a cold, sharp focus. She put a finger to her lips, grabbed Linda's arm, and began to pull her, silently, toward the alcove's exit. They peered around the edge of a massive bookshelf. There he was. A tall man in a black, wet long coat. He was walking slowly down the main aisle of the library, the shotgun held at the ready, his head sweeping left and right. He was not a student. He was not a teacher.
"He's... he's here for me," Linda whimpered, her eyes rolling in terror. "He... he followed us... from Bletchworth..."
"No," Emily said, her voice ice-cold. She knew the truth. "He's here for me."
The assassin was at the far end. He hadn't seen them.
"Linda," Emily whispered, her voice a low, hard command. "I want you to run. Run to the main door, scream, and pull the fire alarm. Do it now."
"But... what about you? He'll... he'll..."
"He's not here for you. He'll ignore you. I'm the target. I'll create a distraction. Go!"
Linda, for the first time in her life, did exactly as she was told. She burst from the alcove and sprinted for the door.
"HELP! HELP! HE'S GOT A GUN! IN THE LIBRARY! HELP ME!"
The assassin spun. He saw Linda, a blur of motion. He ignored her. He saw Emily, who was now moving in the opposite direction, toward the emergency stairs at the back of the library.
He raised his shotgun.
BOOM!
The sound was a physical blow, a concussion that shook the shelves. The shotgun blast tore apart a 400-year-old globe, sending a spray of wood and paper across the room, right where Emily had been a second before.
Students, studying in other corners of the library, screamed. Chairs clattered. Chaos erupted.
The "shoutout" had begun.
Eiden was in his room. He was staring at the wall. Liam and Noah were gone out to give him sometime alone. He was alone. He had lost his ally. He had a clue he couldn't follow. He was a failure. He heard the scream. Faint. A girl. Then he heard it. BOOM.
He didn't flinch. He just... listened. His whole body went rigid.
It wasn't a pistol. It wasn't a rifle. It was a 12-gauge. A close-quarters weapon. A killer's weapon.
Then he heard it again. Crack! Crack!
Two shots. Fast. High-caliber. Pistols.
He knew those sounds. He'd heard them in the crypt. The clean, sharp report of her silver-plated sidearms.
Emily.
She wasn't just running from the shotgun. She was fighting it.
He grabbed the small, leather-bound diary from his desk. He shoved it into his coat. He was out the door in a second.
In London, Akuma Cronus was in his study. The green lamp was on. He was smoking, the cigar smoke a thick, heavy cloud in the cold air.
The red phone on his desk, the one that never rang, buzzed.
He picked it up. "Yes."
It was his private security chief at the school. "Sir. Code Black. We have an active shooter. On campus. Library. Fire alarm is active."
Akuma's eyes went dead. "Hostile?"
"One. Male. Long coat. Shotgun."
"Lock it down," Akuma said. "And find my daughter."
"We... we can't, sir. She is the target. And... she's engaging him."
Akuma's knuckles went white, the cigar in his hand crushing. "She's... what?"
"She's returning fire, sir. Moving toward the science wing."
He hung up.
He picked up his other phone. He dialed a number.
"Maverick."
"Father? It's late."
"He's here. The school. A man with a shotgun. He's hunting your sister. Get. To. The. School. I'm on my way."
Akuma hung up. He didn't wait for a reply. He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a heavy, dark pistol. He checked the clip, slammed it home, and walked out of his study.
In his London flat, Maverick dropped the phone. He was already strapping on his service pistol and grabbing his own shotgun from its locked case before the phone even hit the cradle. He was out the door, his motorcycle roaring to life, in ten seconds.
The school was in chaos.
The fire alarm was blaring, a shrill, incessant scream.
The BOOM of the shotgun echoed in the stone halls. The assassin was hunting. Emily was running. She had sprinted from the library, her two silver sidearms in her hands. She saw two students, Marry and Heathem, frozen in the hallway, staring at the flashing red light. "Get in a room! Lock the door! NOW!" she screamed, her voice cutting through the alarm. The assassin appeared at the end of the hall. He saw her. BOOM!
The shotgun blast tore a 20-foot chunk of plaster and a painting from the wall, the air filling with dust and smoke.
Emily didn't hesitate. She fired back. Crack! Crack!
Her shots were not wild. They were precise. They chipped the stone right next to the assassin's head, forcing him to duck back.
"GET OUT OF HERE!" she screamed at the students, who finally scrambled into a classroom and slammed the door.
She had saved them. But she had given up her escape.
The assassin was coming.
She ran. She ran past the science labs, past the main hall. She knew this school better than anyone. She knew where to go.
She sprinted into Sir Nikal's chemistry lab.
It was dark. It smelled of sulfur, acid, and ozone.
She slammed the heavy oak door. She locked it.
She leaned against it, her heart hammering, her chest burning. She was reloading her pistols, her hands moving with a fast, practiced skill, ejecting the spent casings, slotting in fresh bullets from the clip in her pocket.
She heard the footsteps outside. Heavy. Slow.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump. He was here. He stopped, right outside the door. Silence. Just the shriek of the fire alarm. "I know you're in there, Princess," the assassin's voice rasped from the other side, a horrible, gravelly sound. "You're good. Very good. Your father would be proud. But sad he can't see you now." He raised his shotgun.
At the other end of the hall, Eiden skidded to a stop.
He saw the locked chemistry door. He saw the shadow of the man on the other side.
He was too late.
The assassin aimed his shotgun at the door's lock.
BOOM!
The wood and metal of the lock exploded inward in a shower of splinters and steel.
The door swung open.
CRACK! CRACK!
Emily fired first. She wasn't hiding. She was waiting.
Her two shots rang out from behind a heavy steel workbench, the muzzle flashes lighting the room. The bullets sparked on the stone wall, just inches from the man's head.
He grunted, ducking back as chips of stone bit his cheek.
"A fighter," he rasped, impressed. He had been told she was a target, not a combatant.
BOOM!
He fired his shotgun into the workbench. The heavy table jumped as if struck by a fist. Chemicals and glass vials on top of it exploded in a shower of corrosive rain and shattered glass.
Emily screamed as a splash of acid burned her sleeve, eating through the fabric and sizzling on her skin.
At that exact moment, Eiden hit the end of the hall. He saw the assassin, his back to the door, focused on the girl inside.
Eiden didn't hesitate. He charged, his feet silent, a gray blur against the flashing red lights.
The assassin heard him. Or perhaps, he felt him. His experience was clear. He didn't turn. He just knew. He spun, faster than any man Eiden had ever seen, bringing the shotgun around in a fluid, deadly arc.
Eiden was the close-quarters threat. The assassin had identified him in a microsecond.
Eiden was forced to drop, sliding on the slick, chemical-covered floor, the shotgun blast flying over his head with a deafening roar.
BOOM!
"Eiden!" Emily screamed.
"Shut up and shoot!" Eiden roared, scrambling to his feet, the acid on the floor stinging his hands.
He lunged. But the assassin was too good. He used the shotgun like a staff, a heavy, brutal "Mountain" block that Eiden hadn't anticipated. The steel barrel slammed into Eiden's ribs, cracking two of them with a sickening, wet thud.
Eiden gasped, all the air driven from his lungs. The pain was white-hot, blinding. He flew backward, slamming into the wall, a puppet with its strings cut.
The assassin didn't follow up. He knew to keep his distance.
He turned, bringing the shotgun back to his primary target, the "Princess."
BOOM!
He fired at Emily, who was forced to dive behind another row of desks, the pellets shredding the air where she'd been.
Meanwhile, on the street, Liam and Noah were walking in the sleet, furious. "I don't care, if I said too much" Liam was saying. "He's gone soft. 'A Princess's Pet.' It's a disgrace to the Den. He's..." WEEEE-OOOO...
A police car, its bell clanging, sped past them, skidding dangerously on the wet stones. Then another. Then a military truck full of soldiers.
They all screamed to a halt at the academy gates, doors flying open.
Liam and Noah froze. They looked at each other.
"That's not a fire," Noah said, his voice low, all his childishness gone.
"Eiden," Liam growled. "That idiot."
They didn't say another word. They sprinted back to the school, vaulting the side gate, moving like the Wolves they were.
The main gate was chaos.
Maverick's motorcycle skidded to a stop, his boots hitting the ground before the bike was even off. He had his own shotgun strapped to his back.
"LOCKDOWN!" he roared at the police, his voice cutting through the alarm. "Where is my sister?!"
"We... we don't know, sir!" a policeman yelled over the alarm. "The shooter's in the science wing! We have students barricaded!"
"Find her!" Maverick chambered a shell. "I'm going in."
He ran, joining the team of officers as they stormed the main hall, his face a mask of cold terror.
Back in the lab, it was hell.
Eiden and Emily were pinned. They were both behind the same, heavy, overturned instructor's desk. The wood was thick, but it wouldn't last.
BOOM!
A blast tore a huge chunk from their cover. Splinters flew, stinging Eiden's face. He could feel the hot pellets embed themselves in the wood, inches from his head.
"This isn't working!" Eiden gasped, clutching his ribs. Each breath was a fresh stab of pain. "He's too fast!"
"You think?!" Emily yelled back. She fired. Crack! The assassin just moved behind a stone pillar, the bullet whining off the rock. "I need to get close!" Eiden said. "He won't let you!" she snapped. "He knows what you can do! He's keeping his distance! He's a professional, not a rabid dog like in Bletchworth!" "I don't need your help, Eiden!" "Clearly!" BOOM! Another blast. The table was falling apart, a huge hole splintered open in the center.
Emily checked her pistol. Click.
She checked her other one. Click.
"I'm out," she panted, her face pale, streaked with soot and acid burns. She fumbled in her coat pocket, her fingers shaking. She felt... one. A single, loose bullet.
"I have one," she said, her voice a desperate whisper. "One bullet left."
BOOM! The assassin's shot was high, shattering a row of chemical jars above their heads. Green liquid rained down, sizzling on the floor. "I'll make it count," Emily said. He saw the man reloading, the shlick-shlack echoing.
"I'll draw his fire," Eiden said. "When he shoots at me, you take him."
"Don't be an idiot, he'll kill you! He's not falling for that!"
"Just shoot straight!"
Eiden grabbed a fallen chair and kicked it out.
BOOM!
The assassin fired instantly. The chair exploded into a thousand pieces.
"NOW!" Eiden yelled.
Emily stood, her pistol held in a perfect, two-handed grip. She aimed.
But the assassin was too fast.
He was already turning. He was faster than her. He fired first.
BOOM!
The world went silent.
Emily's body jerked, as if hit by an invisible truck. A spray of blood erupted from her side.
"No!" Eiden screamed.
Her own gun fired as she fell. CRACK!
The single bullet flew true. It hit the assassin in the thigh. He roared in pain.
Eiden didn't see it. He only saw Emily. He caught her as she fell, his arms wrapping around her.
"Eiden..." she gasped, her eyes wide with shock.
He looked at the blood. So much blood. It was everywhere, covering his hands.
And the world... just... stopped.
The fire alarm, the shouting, the pain in his ribs... all of it went away.
There was only a cold, silent, black rage. A void.
He gently, so gently, put Emily down behind the last bit of cover.
"Stay here."
The assassin was roaring, clutching his bleeding leg. "You... you little bitch! I'll... I'll kill you both!"
He raised his shotgun, his hands shaking with his own rage.
Eiden stood up.
BOOM!
The assassin fired.
Eiden wasn't there.
The pellets tore through the air where Eiden had been.
The assassin's eyes went wide. "What...?"
Eiden was already halfway across the room. He was moving faster than the human eye could track. He was a blur, a ripple in the air.
There were three heavy lab tables between them.
BOOM!
The assassin fired again, his shot wild.
Eiden slid under the first table, the blast flying over his head, shattering glass beakers above him.
He didn't stop. He vaulted over the second table, a fluid, wolf-like motion, a silent, impossible leap.
BOOM!
The assassin fired again, missing him by an inch, the pellets screaming off the steel table leg.
Eiden slid under the third table...
Shlick-shlack.
The assassin was reloading. He was too slow.
Eiden came up right in the assassin's face.
His hand shot out and grabbed the burning-hot barrel of the shotgun.
The assassin, in a panic, pulled the trigger.
BOOM!
Eiden held on. The barrel was searing, blistering his hand, the smell of his own burning flesh filling the air, but he didn't feel it. He twisted the gun, aiming it at the ceiling as the assassin fired again, and again, the BOOM-BOOM-BOOM deafening them in the enclosed space.
"It's... it's burning!" the assassin screamed, staring at Eiden's hand, which was now smoking, his flesh sizzling and welded to the metal. "How... how are you...?"
Click. The gun was empty. "You're not human," the assassin whispered, his eyes wide with a terror far greater than any he'd ever caused. "I'm the Devil," Eiden growled. His voice was not his own. It was a sound from the bottom of a grave. He kicked.
A full-force, "Mountain"-style kick to the man's chest.
The assassin flew backward, his body crashing through the splintered wooden gate at the end of the lab. He disappeared, crashing and tumbling down the stone staircase behind it, his shotgun clattering on the steps.
Silence.
Only the sound of the fire alarm, and the drip... drip... drip... of Emily's blood.
Eiden didn't even look at his smoking, burned hand. He turned, his ribs screaming, and ran back to Emily. She was pale, unconscious, and the pool of blood was spreading, dark and slick in the flashing red emergency light.
His world had narrowed to this single point. Her. The assassin. The blood. The rage. He didn't hear the police. He didn't hear Maverick shouting in the main hall.
He ignored the white-hot pain in his ribs, a sensation that felt like being stabbed with every breath.
"I've got you," he whispered, his voice a low growl he didn't recognize.
He had to finish this. He had to protect her.
He ran to the broken door, but not to the hall. He ran to the stairs the assassin had fallen down. The cellar. A dark, unknown hole.
He descended into the darkness, his boots hitting the stone steps. At the bottom, the assassin was groaning, his body a twisted heap on the stone floor. He was alive. The wound was bleeding heavily. "Don't... don't you die on me, Princess," he muttered, his voice ragged. "I'm... not done... arguing with you." He turned. The assassin was getting to his knees, his face a mask of pain and pure disbelief. "You... you're still... standing?" the assassin choked, spitting blood. Eiden started walking toward him, his eyes flat and dead in the gloom. "I'm just getting started."
The assassin, seeing Eiden advance, felt a new, cold terror. This wasn't a boy. He'd fought men, soldiers, spies. This was something else. This was a force.
He pulled a long combat knife from his boot. "Stay back! Stay back, you... thing!"
Eiden moved, his rage giving him a strength he didn't know he had. He didn't use "Mountain" or "River." He just attacked.
It was a brawl. Brutal, fast, and desperate.
The assassin was a professional. He was tough. He met Eiden's charge, his knife flashing, cutting Eiden's arm to the bone.
Eiden didn't even flinch. He just took the blow and delivered his own, a headbutt that snapped the assassin's head back with a crack.
The assassin stumbled, disoriented. Eiden grabbed the man's wrist, the one with the knife, breaking his grip and snapping the bone. The assassin screamed, a high, thin sound. Eiden, in a surge of pure, primal rage, grabbed the assassin by his long coat.
"It's over!" Eiden roared.
He dragged the man, kicking and screaming, toward the cellar's small, barred window. He threw them both, with all his strength, against the ancient stone wall.
They crashed through the window, glass and stone exploding outward, and fell.
They landed hard, crashing through the rotted-wood roof of a sub-cellar, a forgotten storage pit, landing in a cloud of dust, splinters, and cobwebs.
In the main hall, Maverick and the police heard the crash.
"It came from... below us!" Maverick yelled, pointing his shotgun. "The basement! This way!" He and two officers sprinted for the cellar stairs.
On the ground floor, Liam and Noah had just stormed into the science wing.
They saw the blasted-open door to the chem lab. They saw the blood. They saw the chaos.
Then they heard the second crash, from the floor below the lab.
"There!" Liam yelled, his Wolf instincts taking over. They bolted for the staircase Eiden had just disappeared down.
In the dark, dusty pit, the assassin woke up first. He had landed on top of Eiden.
He rolled off, groaning. "You... fucking... stupid child!" he wheezed, and delivered a vicious kick to Eiden's already broken ribs. "You... ruined... everything!"
Eiden coughed, blood spraying from his mouth. He was hurt. Badly.
"Who... sent you?" Eiden rasped, pushing himself up on one elbow. "Maverick?"
The assassin, who was trying to get to his feet, actually paused. He looked confused. "Maverick? That... that charming, stupid son of Akuma? Why... why would he send me to kill his precious sister? Are you an idiot? He's a lapdog. He does whatever Akuma says."
Eiden froze. His mind, fuzzy with pain, tried to process.
If not Maverick... then the ledger... the payments...
"The Syndicate... sent you?"
"Of course, you dumbass!" the assassin spat.
Eiden's world tilted. His entire theory was wrong. The payments... they must have been a coincidence. Or blackmail. He had accused the wrong man. He had betrayed Emily... for nothing.
"Kid," the assassin growled, finally getting to his feet and pulling a second, smaller knife from his boot. "Your death is here."
Eiden slowly, painfully, pushed himself to his feet. He was a wreck of broken ribs, a burned hand, and a dozen cuts. He looked at the assassin. "Death?" Eiden's voice was a cold, terrifying whisper. "Have you ever seen death?" The assassin stepped back, a flicker of real fear in his eyes. This was not the same boy he'd been fighting. "Let me make an appointment for you," Eiden whispered. "Just... for a few seconds." He moved. It wasn't a fight. It was a storm. Eiden was all instinct, all rage. He didn't feel his ribs. He didn't feel his hand. The assassin slashed. Eiden moved inside the blade, letting it cut his arm, just to get his hands on him. He grabbed the assassin's wrist—the one he hadn't broken—and snapped it.
The assassin screamed, a wet, gurgling sound.
Eiden hit him. A left. A right. A headbutt. He slammed the man's head into the stone wall. Thump. Thump. Thump.
It was bloody. It was horrible.
Eiden stopped. The assassin was a broken, whimpering mess. He was alive, but his will was gone.
Eiden, his chest heaving, his vision blurring, looked at the man. He wouldn't kill him. Not like this.
"If you ever... ever... think about killing again," Eiden choked out. "I'll be the only one at your funeral."
He stepped back... and collapsed, sitting hard against the wall, the adrenaline gone, leaving only a universe of pain.
The assassin, senseless, did not move.
The door to the pit burst open.
Maverick stood there, his shotgun raised, flanked by two policemen.
He saw the scene. The broken assassin. And Eiden, covered in blood, his hand a raw, burned mess, sitting against the wall.
"Eiden...?" Maverick whispered, his voice full of awe and terror. "What... happened?"
Eiden just looked at him. He tried to speak. He couldn't. He was too hurt.
"Medic!" Maverick roared. "Get a medic! NOW!"
He rushed to Eiden's side. "It's okay, kid. You're... you're okay. Where's Emily?"
Eiden's eyes widened. Emily.
He pushed Maverick away, forcing himself to his feet with a pained groan. He pointed up. "The... lab... she's..."
He stumbled out of the pit, Maverick supporting him.
They ran back up the stairs. The hall was full of police. They got to the chem lab.
She was gone.
The pool of her blood was there. But she was gone.
As they moved down the hall, Eiden saw them. Two more bodies. Men in black, their necks broken. He didn't remember killing them. He must have... in his rage... on the way to the lab.
"Where is she...?" Eiden whispered.
He took a step. His legs gave out. The world went black.
Eiden woke up. The smell of antiseptic. A white, clean room. A hospital. He sat up. His ribs screamed. His hand was a mass of white bandages. "Whoa, easy there, Mate" Liam was sitting in a chair, his arms crossed. Noah was on the floor, asleep. "What... what happened?" Eiden's voice was a croak. "You're an idiot, is what happened," Liam said, but there was no malice in it. It was... respect. "You fell," Noah said, snapping awake. "You were awesome! You fell, and there was a crash, and we ran, and..." "Emily," Eiden said, cutting him off. "Where is she?" Noah looked at Liam. Liam's face was hard. He stood up. "Something is wrong, Eiden. Very wrong. We... we got to the lab. After you fell. She was being taken by some people. There was a second team." "What?" "Four more men. Not like the assassin. These were... different. They were carrying her. Abducting her. We stepped in." "You fought them?" "We killed them," Liam said, his voice cold. "They were... strong. The others got away with her. We heard Maverick and the police coming, so we... we hid." He looked Eiden in the eye. "I'm sorry, Eiden. We couldn't stop them." It was a genuine apology. From Liam. Eiden just looked at his bandaged hand. "You tried. That's... all."
The door opened. Maverick walked in; his face grim. He looked at Liam and Noah. "Who are they?" "My friends," Eiden said. "Anything?" "Yes," Maverick said, his voice tight. "A witness. A student. Saw them load her into an ambulance. He thought it was weird that Emily was being taken without me being there, so he wrote down the number. I tracked it. It's a dummy company. A front for the Syndicate. They have her." Maverick leaned against the wall. "Father is on his way. He'll be here tomorrow." "This is my fault," Eiden whispered. "My father will handle this. He told the police to stand down. He said... they're no match. That he'll bring his own team." "Your father is too slow," Eiden said, his voice flat. "Then what do we do, Eiden?" Maverick snapped. "It's just us! The military won't help with a personal matter, not in this war. It's just you and me, and we're not enough!" Eiden looked at Liam. Liam just nodded. A single, sharp nod. Maverick saw the look on Eiden. "Maverick. Leave us. I need to... rest." Maverick, confused and tense, looked at the three of them. He nodded. "Fine." He left. The room was silent. "So," Noah said, a wide grin spreading. "Are we going to go save her?" Eiden looked at him. "You heard him. We're not enough." Liam just smiled. "Oh, come on, Eiden. Stop playing with him. We know you." Noah pumped his fist. "I knew it!" Liam stood. "You have one hour. The nurses are gone. Get your strength back." He placed something on the nightstand. It wasn't a Wolf knife. It was black, carbon, and perfectly balanced. A modern combat blade. "A new toy from Charlotte. She said you'd... 'misplaced' your other one." He and Noah walked to the door. "Liam," Eiden said. Liam stopped. "We're not just saving her," Eiden said, his voice like the grave. "We might be starting a war." Liam smiled. "Good. It's about time."