The initiation ceremony concluded. Bella formally assumed the role of Mentor, and the traitor Daniel Cross was dead — by his own hand, technically, but it still counted as justice for the previous Mentor.
Bella didn't bother maintaining the theatrical atmosphere any longer. The hood was stifling. She pushed it back, extended a finger, and sent a hair-thin thread of frost skimming across the bloodstained floor. A moment later, a thin film of ice sealed over the mess, then a controlled stream of water swept it away. The coppery stench of blood faded. Only then did she look at the two men before her.
"Three days ago, I asked Gavin Banks a question. Now I need to put the same question to you, Mr. William Miles. As the only surviving regional director of the Brotherhood, what direction do you want to take it in?"
Bella's situation was essentially that of someone who'd been handed command of a sinking ship. Even if everyone followed her orders, she still needed to know what the crew actually wanted. Did they want to lie low and survive? Rebuild toward something greater? Overthrow governments and establish a freer world? Whatever the answer — realistic or not — she needed a target before she could point anyone toward it.
Without that, she'd be heading one way while every assassin went the other.
William Miles spoke first. "To survive. To live with dignity."
Bella nodded. It was an honest and unambitious answer — and that made it the right one. Gavin had said something similar days earlier. Survival had to come first.
"What else?" She studied William carefully.
This man, born in 1948, was the one who would have inherited the Mentor's mantle in another timeline. He was the eldest, the most senior. He hadn't led the Brotherhood to glory in that other life, but he'd halted its decline — no small feat. A capable man.
Now circumstances had shifted. He'd stepped aside voluntarily, ceding the Mentor's role to Bella. That meant she owed his counsel the respect it deserved.
Unlike Gavin, who was focused on rebuilding the Osaka chapter, William's forces had come through the Purge largely intact. His people had weathered it out in a valley in South Dakota. His outer-tier members had suffered badly, but his core remained whole.
He considered the question, then spoke with a larger ambition: "To stop the Templar Order — Abstergo Industries — from imposing a global order. Humanity shouldn't be enslaved by a handful of men. We shouldn't exist to fuel their luxury."
Gavin immediately shot his old friend a frantic look. That goal was enormous. Could it be achieved within a generation? Two? And their new boss sold candy for a living — was throwing "global order" at her going to send her running?
William kept his eyes down. That was his answer, and he stood by it.
Bella gave nothing away. "I understand. Preventing the Templars from dominating the world is our long-term objective. But our most urgent priority right now is survival." She paused. "Before we get there — I examined Daniel Cross's mind. A hidden command had been embedded in his subconscious through an Apple of Eden. That's what enabled the Purge. We need to screen the remaining members carefully. There may be more Templar moles among us." She looked between them. "What's your current assessment of the Apple?"
Neither William nor Gavin was surprised that she knew about the Apple. The Koh-i-Noor diamond alone had demonstrated how deeply she understood Isu artifacts. Both men answered plainly: "The Brotherhood no longer has one."
Bella smiled quietly. "It does now. You retrieved the Koh-i-Noor for me. At the time, I'm sure some of you resented it — the Brotherhood was at its most vulnerable, and instead of hiding, you were risking your lives to fetch an Isu relic for an outsider." She let that sit for a moment. "I operate on a principle of fairness. Our first contact was candid on both sides. I appreciated that. So in return — the Apple that belongs to me personally will remain with the Brotherhood."
She produced the third Apple and released it, allowing it to float freely in the air between them.
Gavin's composure cracked visibly. William held steadier, but the faint tremor in the back of his hand betrayed him.
Bella let them absorb the sight, then spoke. "This is the Apple recovered from the White House. Washington used it. Kennedy used it."
Gavin's expression brightened. "With an Apple, we can scan our members' minds directly. We won't be blindsided again."
Bella nodded. That was exactly why she'd brought it out. If another traitor slipped through, the next disaster would land on her doorstep. Sharing the Apple cost her nothing — as Mentor, she had full access to it whenever she needed it.
It was a grim thought: before the Purge, the Brotherhood had gone without an Apple for so long that Daniel Cross had played them perfectly, striking from within without a trace.
If they'd had one earlier, the body count would have been very different.
William Miles felt genuinely blindsided. They'd recruited a new leader, and she came with a Piece of Eden thrown in?
"May I touch it?" he asked.
Bella glanced between him and Gavin. Both men had low Isu bloodline concentration — William around 0.2%, Gavin perhaps 0.15%. Neither was a frontline combat asset. Gavin had taken a beating from a Japanese mob enforcer in another timeline; William, now in his fifties, had even less to offer in a fight.
The Renaissance-era Mentor Ezio had been largely ineffective by age sixty — without Shao Jun's help, a handful of common soldiers could have overwhelmed him. It was a familiar pattern: an iron will held in a body that could no longer keep up.
Altaïr was different. The man had fought off a room full of younger warriors at ninety-two. Bella suspected his Isu concentration had been well above 1%, making his biological age closer to sixty despite the calendar. Combined with decades of experience, the historical record made sense.
William and Gavin clearly hadn't reached that tier.
"I've already established a connection with the Apple," Bella said honestly. "If you'd like to try, go ahead."
No two people were alike. William's son carried a notably stronger Isu bloodline — William himself was at an ordinary level.
He reached out and made contact.
The moment his fingers brushed the surface, something inside him lurched — as if his blood had been seized by an overwhelming force and was being torn in opposing directions. Panic spiked through him. Then his latent Isu heritage stirred in response, pushing back. The pull from the Apple eased. It felt like a test. Or a repulsion.
Then it was over.