The hospital room was quiet, save for the rhythmic click-hiss of the radiator.
It was 2:00 AM. Eiden had been "resting" for twenty-four hours.
According to the doctors, he should be bedridden for weeks.
According to Eiden, he was bored.
He was on the floor, doing one-armed push-ups.
He winced slightly. His ribs were still tender, a dull ache instead of a sharp fire. The bullet wound in his back was itching—a sign of rapid healing. The burn on his hand was already a landscape of fresh, pink scar tissue.
"Seventy-nine... eighty..." he whispered, his breath steady.
The Wolf blood in him was working overtime. It was a gift, and a curse. It kept him alive, but it made him impossible to hide.
BZZZZT. A small, static noise came from under his pillow. Eiden froze. He flipped onto his back and pulled out the small, modified radio Harry had smuggled in for him inside a hollowed-out book. "Eiden," Harry's voice whispered, barely audible through the static. "Code Red. He's in the building." Eiden sat up. "Who?" "Emily's father. Akuma Cronus. He just pulled up. He... he dismissed the police detail. He's coming up alone." "Copy," Eiden said. "Go dark."
Eiden moved fast. He threw the radio into his pack. He jumped back into bed, pulling the sheets up. He slowed his breathing. He relaxed his face.
In five seconds, he transformed from a super-soldier doing calisthenics into a wounded, sleeping teenager.
The door didn't creak. It opened silently.
The air in the room changed. It became heavy. Cold. It felt as if all the oxygen had been sucked out.
Steps approached the bed. Expensive leather shoes on linoleum. Slow. Deliberate.
Eiden waited. He let the silence stretch. Then, he "woke up."
He opened his eyes groggily, blinking against the dim light.
"Doctor...?"
A figure was standing at the foot of his bed.
Akuma Cronus.
He was wearing a charcoal suit that cost more than Eiden's entire village. His face was unreadable, a mask of calm authority. But his eyes... his eyes were scanning Eiden with a surgical intensity. They lingered on the bandaged hand. Then on Eiden's chest, checking the rise and fall.
"Mr. Killian," Akuma said. His voice was a low rumble, smooth and dangerous. "I apologize for the late hour."
Eiden sat up slowly, feigning a wince. "Mr. Cronus. Is... is Emily okay?"
It was the perfect opening. The concerned "pet." The loyal bodyguard.
Akuma didn't smile. He walked to the side of the bed and pulled up a chair. He sat down, crossing his legs, looking perfectly at ease in the sterile room.
"My daughter is safe," Akuma said. "She is at the estate. She... speaks highly of you. She demanded I come personally to ensure you were receiving the best care."
"She's a good friend," Eiden said.
"Is she?" Akuma asked. "It is rare to find such... devoted friends. Especially ones willing to die for a girl they met a week ago."
The air left the room. It was a probe. A test.
Eiden looked at Akuma. He didn't blink. He dropped the "groggy student" act just a fraction.
"I promised I'd protect her, sir. That's all."
"You did more than protect her," Akuma said softly. "The police report says you killed five men. With an axe. You broke a professional assassin in half. That is not 'protection,' Mr. Killian. That is warfare."
Akuma leaned forward, his black eyes boring into Eiden's.
"Tell me. Where does a Swiss transfer student learn to fight like a devil?"
Eiden's heart hammered against his ribs, but his face remained stone.
"My father," Eiden lied smoothly. "He was a soldier. He taught me to survive. He said if you're going to fight, you don't fight to win. You fight to end it."
Akuma watched him. He seemed to be weighing every word, tasting the lie.
"A soldier," Akuma mused. "An honorable profession. And yet... you are here. In a school."
Akuma reached into his jacket pocket. Eiden tensed under the sheets, his muscles coiling to strike.
Akuma pulled out... a check.
He placed it on the bedside table. It was blank.
"I am a businessman, Eiden. I understand transactions. I understand value. You saved my daughter. For that, you have my gratitude. This is a blank check. Write any number. Go anywhere in the world. Leave this school. Leave this country. Start a new life. A rich life."
Eiden looked at the check. Then he looked at Akuma.
"You're paying me to leave?"
"I am paying you for your service," Akuma corrected. "And I am suggesting that a boy with your... talents... has no place in a classroom. You are dangerous, Eiden. Dangerous things draw trouble. I do not want trouble near my daughter."
Eiden looked at the check again. It was freedom. It was easy.
But it wasn't the mission.
He slowly reached out and pushed the check back toward Akuma.
"I don't want your money, sir."
Akuma didn't move to take it. "Everyone wants money. Or power. Which is it?"
"I want to finish school," Eiden said, meeting Akuma's gaze. "And I don't break promises. I told Emily I'd stay."
Akuma stared at him. For a long, agonizing minute, the two predators assessed each other. The King trying to find the crack in the Wolf's mask.
Akuma stood up. He picked up the check, folded it neatly, and put it back in his pocket.
"Loyalty," Akuma said. "A rare currency. Dangerous, too. It often gets people killed."
He walked to the door. He stopped, his hand on the handle. He didn't turn around.
"You are an interesting puzzle, Mr. Killian. The doctors say your recovery is miraculous. Almost... inhuman."
Eiden went still.
Akuma turned his head slightly, his black eye catching the light.
"I will be watching you. Not as a father watching a student. But as a man watching a... variable. Do not make me regret letting you stay."
"I won't let her down, sir," Eiden said.
"See that you don't," Akuma whispered. "Because the next time we meet, I may not be so generous."
Akuma left. The door clicked shut. Eiden let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. His hands were shaking. Not from fear. From the sheer effort of holding himself back.
(The Next Morning. St. Swithin's Academy.)
The morning sun did not make the academy look brighter. It only highlighted the scars.
A black Bentley rolled through the ruined gates. Akuma Cronus stepped out. He didn't look at the damages. To him, broken stone was just a number on a spreadsheet. He walked straight to the Headmistress's office.
Madam Cullin was waiting for him. She looked older today. Her usual stern composure was frayed at the edges. She was standing by her window, watching the repair crews.
"Mr. Cronus," she said, turning as he entered. "I... I don't know what to say. The damage... the police report..."
"The police report has been handled," Akuma said, closing the door behind him. "It was a gas leak. An unfortunate industrial accident. The repairs are already paid for."
He walked to her desk, not sitting down. He loomed over it.
"I am not here for the masonry, Madam Cullin. I am here for the inventory."
Cullin swallowed. "Of course. The student records are—"
"Not the students," Akuma cut her off. His voice dropped to a whisper. "The foundation."
Cullin went very still. She walked to the heavy oak door and locked it. She turned back to him, her face pale.
"It is untouched, sir. The fighting was concentrated in the science wing and the main hall. No one went near the... lower levels. The Safe is secure."
"You checked?"
"Personally. The seal is unbroken. The dust is undisturbed. Whatever you have hidden down there... it is safe."
Akuma let out a slow breath. "Good. That is... good."
"Sir," Cullin asked, her voice trembling slightly. "With all due respect... is it safe to keep it here? After last night? If they had found it..." "They were not looking for it," Akuma said. "They were looking for my daughter. They are fools. They do not know the true value of this land." He walked to the window, looking out at the students walking to class. They looked small. Vulnerable. "Tell me about the boy," Akuma said. "Eiden?" Cullin asked. "He is... quiet. Respectful. His grades are average. But..." "But?" "He has a way about him. The other students... they gravitate toward him. Even the difficult ones."
"And," Cullin continued, checking her notes. "There were visitors. Yesterday. During the attack. Two boys. Not students." Akuma turned slowly. "Describe them." "One was large. Very strong. He... he was seen throwing a stone bench at the gunmen. The other was leaner. Someone saw him carrying an axe. Even in the chaos, they moved like... soldiers."
He paced the room. "Liam and Noah. Those were the names on the hospital log."
"Yes, sir. They vanished after the fight. We haven't seen them since."
"They haven't vanished," Akuma said, his eyes dark. "They are merely waiting. They are circling."
He looked at Cullin.
"Eiden Killian is not a student, Madam Cullin. He is a scout. And he has called in his pack. I want the security doubled on the lower levels. I want guards at the stairwell. If anyone—student, teacher, or janitor—goes near that Safe... you call me. Immediately."
"Yes, sir."
Akuma walked to the door. "And Cullin? If Eiden Killian asks about the history of the school... or about the land... you tell him nothing. You tell him it was a swamp before I bought it. Do you understand?"
"I understand."
Akuma left.
Madam Cullin stood alone in her office, shaking. She poured herself a drink from a crystal decanter, her hands trembling. She didn't notice the slight creak from the air vent high on the wall.
Inside the narrow, dusty ventilation shaft, Margot held her breath.
She was cramping. Her knees were bruised. She was covered in dust.
But she had heard every word.
The Foundation. The Lower Levels. The Safe.
Margot shivered in the dark. The information felt heavy, dangerous. She was holding a piece of the war. She swallowed her fear. She began to crawl backward, careful not to make a sound. Eiden needed to know.