The Alley
Kane smashed through the back door of the kitchen, stumbling into the wet, trash-strewn alley. The cold air hit his face, a sharp contrast to the heat of the kitchen, but it did little to clear his head. He was blinded by chemical foam that burned his eyes, slick with cooking oil that made every step a gamble, and nursing a concussion from the cast-iron skillet that throbbed like a second heartbeat in his skull.
He wiped his eyes furiously, growling like a wounded animal. In the distance, the wail of sirens grew louder, cutting through the city noise. Police. They were coming for the "intruder."
He started to run, limping heavily on a bruised knee. He made it two blocks, ducking through shadows, before a black sedan screeched to a halt at the mouth of the alley, blocking his path.
Kane reached for a knife he no longer had, his hand grasping at empty air.
The rear window rolled down with a smooth, electric hum.
"Get in," Maverick Cronus said. His voice was tight, strained, and his face was pale in the streetlights.
Kane hesitated for a fraction of a second, weighing his options, then wrenched the back door open and threw himself onto the expensive leather seats, trailing oil and foam. The car sped off just as a police cruiser turned the corner, its lights painting the brick walls blue and red.
For a few minutes, there was only silence inside the car. The driver, a silent Shadow Guard, kept his eyes on the road. Maverick drove with white-knuckled intensity, checking the rearview mirror constantly, his jaw clenched so hard a muscle feathered in his cheek. He drove them to a quiet, industrial underpass on the edge of the city, where the roar of the trains overhead drowned out conversation.
"Get out," Maverick ordered, unlocking the doors.
Kane climbed out, groaning. He leaned against a concrete pillar, spitting blood onto the pavement. He looked... happy. A twisted, satisfied grin split his face.
"Did I do a good job?" Kane asked, grinning through broken teeth stained pink.
Maverick froze. He turned slowly to look at the Bear assassin, confusion warring with disgust on his face.
"What?"
"The show," Kane said, wiping a smear of oil from his cheek. "Did it look real? Vorian said I had to make it look like I wanted to kill her, or the Wolf wouldn't bite. He said if I didn't make her scream, the boy wouldn't break cover."
Maverick felt the world tilt on its axis. The damp air under the bridge suddenly felt suffocating.
A memory flashed in his mind, sharp and vivid. Two days ago. His father's study.
Akuma was on the phone. Not the red one he used for business. A secure, hardline connection. He was speaking a language Maverick didn't recognize—a rough, guttural mountain dialect that sounded like stones grinding together.
"Send him," Akuma had said, his voice devoid of emotion. "The Wolf is getting comfortable. He thinks he is safe. He needs a predator. And my daughter... she needs to see that he brings only death. She needs to see blood to believe."
Maverick had assumed Akuma was hiring mercenaries to protect the perimeter. He never imagined this. He never imagined his father would invite the enemy inside the walls.
"You..." Maverick whispered, staring at Kane with dawning horror. "You're working for my father."
"Bear and King," Kane shrugged, testing his jaw. "Vorian hates the Wolf. Akuma hates the Wolf. Enemy of my enemy. Your dad paid a lot to get me into that school. A lot. Said he needed a 'catalyst.' Said words weren't enough anymore."
Maverick moved before he thought. He grabbed Kane by the collar, slamming him against the concrete pillar with enough force to crack the plaster.
"You hit her!" Maverick roared, his composure shattering. "You backhanded her! You could have killed her! That wasn't part of the deal!"
"I pulled the punch," Kane scoffed, pushing Maverick off easily, his strength returning. "If I wanted her dead, Lieutenant, she wouldn't have a head attached to her neck right now. I did exactly what I was paid to do. I created fear. I made her see the Wolf as the cause of her pain."
Kane adjusted his coat, wincing as he touched his ribs.
"Tell your father the Wolf is strong. Stronger than the reports. But he's bleeding. Next time... I won't play with my food. Next time, I take his head."
Kane turned and walked into the shadows, vanishing into the industrial maze of the city, leaving Maverick alone in the dark.
Maverick stood under the bridge, the rumble of a train shaking the ground beneath his feet. He felt sick. Physically ill. His father had invited a monster into the school. He had orchestrated an assassination attempt on his own daughter, risked her life, terrified her, just to prove a point. Just to win an ideological war against a teenage boy. Maverick looked at his hands. They were shaking.
The next morning, St. Swithin's was quiet. But it was not a peaceful quiet. It was the quiet of a graveyard, heavy with unspoken threats.
Emily walked into the Student Council room. The current president, a senior named Arthur, was drinking coffee, his feet up on the mahogany table.
"Emily?" he asked, surprised, putting his mug down. "You shouldn't be here. After yesterday... shouldn't you be resting? Or... with him?"
"Get out," Emily said. Her voice wasn't loud, but it stopped the room cold.
Arthur blinked, a smirk touching his lips. "Excuse me? This is a closed meeting, Princess. Go play somewhere else."
Emily didn't shout. She didn't argue. She just walked to the head of the table and threw a manila file down. It slid across the wood with a hiss and stopped in front of him.
"Your father's shipping company just lost its exclusive contract with Cronus Industries," Emily said, her voice flat, reciting facts. "The breach of contract clause was activated this morning. It will bankrupt him by Tuesday. And your acceptance to Oxford... has been reconsidered by the board of trustees. They found your academic record... lacking."
Arthur went pale, the smirk vanishing. He scrambled for the file, opening it with trembling hands. "You... you can't..."
"I can," Emily said, leaning over the table. Her eyes were empty voids. "I am a Cronus. I own this school. I own your future. Now, get out. All of you. Before I decide to ruin your families too."
Arthur and the other council members scrambled to leave, gathering their books, terrified by the cold, absolute authority radiating from her. They didn't look back.
Emily sat at the head of the table. She stared at the empty room, at the dust motes dancing in the light. She felt nothing. No triumph. No guilt. Just the cold.
The door opened.
Sasha, Luna, and Sophia walked in. They weren't giggling. They weren't gossiping about boys. They walked with a new, military precision, checking the corners of the room as they entered. They wore the school uniform, but they wore it like armor, their movements sharp and synchronized.
"Room secure," Sasha said, locking the door and checking the window blinds.
"Good," Emily said.
These weren't just her friends. She realized that now with a sickening clarity. They were assets. Her father had placed them around her for years, sleeper agents waiting for activation. And now, she would use them.
"We have a problem," Emily said, her voice steady. "The school is compromised. There are spies."
"Killian," Luna said, her voice hard.
"And his pack," Emily added. "Harry. Hazel. Margot. They are gathering intel. They are watching us. They are feeding him information."
She looked at her team, her praetorian guard.
"I want them isolated. I want their lockers searched every day. I want their schedules tracked. I want their library privileges revoked. I want them to feel like the walls are closing in. Break their communication lines."
"And Eiden?" Sophia asked. "What about the Wolf?"
Emily looked at her hands. She remembered the kitchen. The smell of burning oil. The way he had looked at her when she called him a monster—not with anger, but with pity. That pity burned her more than hate ever could.
"Eiden is mine," Emily whispered, her hand closing into a fist. "Leave him to me."
The Order
That evening, Emily stood in her father's study. The air smelled of beeswax and old power.
Akuma was looking out the window, watching the rain streak the glass.
"The Bear Claw," Akuma said softly, as if discussing a species of bird. "A brutal clan. Savage. They have hunted the Wolves for generations. They are animals who know only blood."
"They attacked the school," Emily said. "They attacked me."
"Because Eiden was there," Akuma lied smoothly, turning to face her. "Violence follows him, Emily. It calls to him like a beacon. As long as he is here, you are in danger. He is a lightning rod for death."
He walked to his desk and leaned against it.
"He fought the Bear. He saved himself. But did you see who he really is? Did you see the violence? The joy he took in it? The way he moved?"
Emily nodded slowly. She remembered the skillet. The sound of metal on bone. The way Eiden's eyes had gone dead.
"He is a weapon," she said.
"Yes," Akuma said. "And weapons must be unloaded before they go off in your hand."
He opened a drawer in his desk.
He pulled out a gun. Not her silver pistols, which were showy and elegant. This was new. Black, sleek, compact. A finisher. A tool for killing.
He placed it on the desk between them. It sat there heavy and cold.
"The Wolf will try to turn you again," Akuma said. "He will try to speak to you. He will try to whisper lies about me, about your mother, about Evergreen. He is desperate. A trapped animal will say anything to escape."
Akuma looked her in the eye, his gaze intense and demanding.
"When he does... you must be the one to stop him. Not Maverick. Not the Shadows. You. You must prove that you are a Cronus. You must prove that you are strong enough to protect this family from the monsters at the door."
Emily looked at the gun. It looked heavy, like it carried the weight of a soul.
"Kill him?" she whispered.
"End the threat," Akuma corrected. "Before he kills us. Before he finishes what Evergreen started."
Emily thinking back to Eiden's fighting style and his strengths, "He is very fast and powerful, can I shoot him that easily?" Akuma looking at emily, "Do you Know, how I could kill Evergreen? Even though she was much stronger than me?" Emily looks at her father. Akuma looking her dead in the eye, "I shot her in the back. Maybe you could use that as well."
Emily reached out. Her hand didn't tremble. She picked up the gun. It was cold steel against her palm. It felt right.
"I understand, Father."
"Good," Akuma said, pride swelling in his voice. "Now go. The school is yours. Defend it."
Emily left, the gun heavy in her pocket.
Akuma watched the door close. He smiled. The transformation was complete.
But in the hallway, pressed into the shadows of an alcove, Maverick was listening. He had heard it all.
He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes, fighting the urge to vomit.
The Bear was a lie. The threat was manufactured. And now, his father had just handed his sister a gun and pointed her at the only person who might actually be able to save her from this madness.
Maverick touched his own holster.
He had to make a choice. And for the first time in his life, "loyalty" to his father felt like the wrong answer. It felt like treason against his own soul.