106 OMG THIS IS GOING TO BE JUICY
Damen, Kail, and Zairgid entered the Black Owl, a high-end and premier club known in Melrose City.
On paper, they were there for a welcoming party — Zairgid introducing his visiting cousin, Kail Venn, to the city's nightlife.
Kail looked completely different from the frail boy he once was. The accelerated doses of Strength-enhancing elixirs had changed him, making him taller, and his posture more confident.
He also appeared one to two years beyond his age.
To most people, he was simply another young heir, around Damen's age, enjoying a night out.
But beneath the music and laughter, the party was a front. The SIA still had Damen under watch, and meeting openly about Lander's situation was too risky but the Black Owl's crowded, dim-lit environment gave them cover.
Not long after, Dorin slipped into their private room, pretending to be another guest at Zairgid's party. Her expression was strained, her voice sad and low.
"I really don't know what we can do for Lander anymore," Dorin said, her words trembling. "They've fast-tracked his execution."
Damen frowned. "Why so sudden? From what I've seen, the evidence against him is paper-thin. Any decent lawyer could tear it apart."
Dorin looked defeated. "That's just it. There's no lawyer. It's a military tribunal. The whole thing's a setup."
Kail, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke.
His tone was calm but edged with certainty.
"Director Ambrone's working with the Zetheris family. They're using Lander as bait. The plan is simple — execute him publicly and wait for whoever's protecting the fugitive Ethen Lace to show up. When they come to rescue him, they'll strike."
Dorin turned sharply toward Kail. "Who are you? How do you know so much about our case?"
Zairgid put a hand on Dorin's shoulder. "Relax. This is Kail Venn — my cousin from out of town. He's good at detective work. I trust him."
Dorin hesitated, then sighed. "Thank you, Kail. It means a lot. Even someone who barely knows Lander is willing to help, while the people in the department — the ones who worked beside him for years — won't even speak his name now."
Kail met her gaze steadily. "Then we'll speak for him even if nobody else will."
"Thanks."
Damen leaned forward, cutting her off mid-sentence. "Wait—what else is happening inside SIA? Has there been any talk about reopening Lander's case or reviewing the evidence?"
Dorin shook her head, frustration clouding her expression. "No one's talking about him anymore. It's like the case has been buried. No investigation, no updates—just nothing."
Damen's eyes narrowed. "What about the new investigator… Reth Kellen?"
Dorin's tone shifted, laced with disgust. "That creep? Ever since Lander was detained, he's been hanging around me. Keeps finding excuses to invite me out for drinks."
Damen frowned. "He's hitting on you?"
"You could say that," Dorin muttered. "But that's got nothing to do with Lander's case."
Damen leaned back in his chair, a slow grin forming. "Actually… it has everything to do with it."
Zairgid raised an eyebrow. "What are you thinking?"
Damen's voice dropped to a low, calculating tone. "If Reth wants your attention, we can use that. He's our way in."
Kail looked up. "In? You mean… through him, we get to the files."
"No," Damen said. "Freeing Lander is not up to the evidence. It'll depend on Reth's hormones."
------
Director Ambrone and SIA's senior officers faced a packed hall. Today they would announce the agency's verdict: Lander Strong, an SIA agent, they declared had committed treason by releasing a critical asset from custody without authorization.
Reporters from every major outlet in Melrose City packed the room. Ambrone had planned it that way.
He wants to make the story impossible to ignore, to reach Lander's sympathizers and cause them to act. And once they act, the agency would get hold of them.
Lead investigator Reth Kellen stepped forward and delivered a clipped summary of the closed-door military inquiry. When he finished, his voice rang out with the sentence the agency wanted the city to hear.
"Lander Strong is sentenced to death."
Reth opened the floor to questions.
Ambrone and the other officials exchanged satisfied looks — their plan was working.
The first question came from a reporter representing a legitimate, if not widely known, paper. The inquiry was precise and explosive.
"Mr. Kellen, can you describe your relationship with Miss Dorin West of your agency?" the reporter asked.
The question landed like a slap.
Reth bristled. "What does that have to do with today's briefing?" he snapped.
"It has everything to do with the case," the reporter countered. "We have evidence suggesting you've been pursuing Miss West romantically, and that Mr. Lander Strong stood in the way. There are allegations you fabricated treason evidence to remove your rival. Is that true or not?"
Reth's face went crimson.
"Preposterous. I am a professional investigator of the SIA. To imply I would falsify evidence—what outlet are you with? I will press charges for criminal defamation." His voice sharpened into a public rebuke.
The reporter held steady. "I'm asking for a yes or no. If you'd prefer to sue rather than answer, that's your choice. But will you accuse me of treason for asking a question?"
Reth backpedaled, flustered. "No …. that's not what I mean."
The press erupted.
What should have been a solemn announcement about a grave sentence dissolved into gossip and scandal. Cameras and phones buzzed; the story had pivoted into a tawdry love triangle, and the public lapped it up.
The ratings on the story went through the roof even before the press conference had ended. In a short time, the revelation was trending and soon half the city was talking about this.
A second reporter shouted, "This gossip is better material than a criminal execution!"
More questions followed, sharper and more accusatory. "Mr. Kellen, did you conspire to fabricate evidence against Lander Strong?"
"You are a disgrace to the SIA," another voice accused.
Reth defended himself loudly, "These are lies spread by Lander's supporters to defame me, the lead investigator. I'll reserve my rights to pursue them to the utmost of the law."
On its face, there was no direct proof that Reth had framed Lander. He might have had motive, but motive was not evidence.
"What is happening here, Ambrone?" one of the directors demanded.
Director Ambrone swallowed. "I… I don't know. This must be a ploy. The enemy—the real culprits—must have staged this."
"That's irrelevant," another director snapped. "What do we do about the press? Our agency's image is sinking by the minute."
"These are only allegations," Ambrone said quickly. "There's nothing concrete to support them. If Reth just holds steady, this will blow over."
The press knew the accusations against Reth Lander were thin. But evidence had never been their concern.
Ratings were.
Selling headlines was.
Truth, justice, proof—those were optional.
Suddenly, the screen behind the podium flared to life.
This—this—was the real centerpiece of the press conference. Not the announcement of Lander's guilt.
Grainy footage filled the display.
"What the hell is this?" Ambrone demanded, turning sharply to Reth.
"I have no idea," Reth said, before shouting toward the technicians. "Get it off the screen. Now."
They failed.
The footage continued to play, broadcast live to every press outlet in the city.
It was a recording from the SIA pantry.
The audio echoed through the hall.
"What's showing on the screen?" someone whispered.
"Oh my god," another voice said, barely containing excitement. "This is going to be so juicy."