Slipping through the overgrown hedges near the rear of the house by the hill, Ryan, Claire, and Fiona reached the back porch. The wooden door sat just feet away, its latch completely unmonitored.
Ryan extended his hand and sense already reaching out to manipulate the metal tumbler inside the lock—when Fiona suddenly stiffened.
Her eyes dilated into wide, terrified circles. A soundless gasp tore from her throat as a wave of invisible, crushing pressure slammed into her mind. The voices within her head didn't whisper or hum instead, it erupted into a single, high-pitched, deafening scream of pure terror—a violent, unnatural feedback loop warning of immediate death.
Before Ryan or Claire could react, Fiona's knees buckled, her body going completely limp as she collapsed toward the wooden steps.
"Fiona!" Claire gasped, barely catching her under the arms before her head hit the deck.
Panic surged through both of them as they dragged her backward into the deep shadows of the heavy bushes. Outside on the front driveway, the blaring, amplified sirens created a sudden chaotic uproar among the neighbors.
Front doors slammed open, and angry voices began cursing loudly down the street as residents shouted about blaring car alarms and corrupted regional speakers.
The sheer volume of civilian commotion served as an unexpected veil of noise, masking the faint rustle of leaves behind Bill's house.
Inside the yard, Bill's dark eyes narrowed with intense suspicion. So he proceeds to drawing a heavy, modified pistol from his shoulder holster, then stepped off the porch and began a slow, tilting sweep around his home ground, his boots crunching against the gravel.
From their crouched position behind the thick foliage, Ryan held his breath,his eyes pitched onto the contractor through the gaps in the leaves, just so he got a first full, unshielded look at Bill Curt.
It wasn't just the armed readiness, rather, it was the man's eyes which were cold, bloodshot, and hollow wrapped around a monstrous malice that made his skin crawl.
Having missed the earlier confrontations at the university ridge, Ryan had only heard second-hand accounts of Bill's brutal nature. But standing a few yards away from him now, the sheer, violent energy rolling off the man made Ryan realize just how close to the edge of sanity this Man truly walked.
Finding nothing in the yard but the echoing complaints of frustrated neighbors, Bill spat onto the grass and put his safety back on pulling a retreat inside then slammed his heavy front door shut.
Holding Fiona between them, Ryan and Claire retreated carefully down the back alley, putting three full blocks of distance between themselves and Bill's house before stopping in a secluded side street.
The moment they cleared the perimeter, Fiona's eyes snapped open. She drew a sudden, inhale sitting up against the brick wall with the paralyzing shock gone.
What replaced the brief moment of relief was an eerie, sudden clarity, as if the mental blackout had never occurred.
"Fiona, are you alright?" Claire asked, kneeling beside her, her hands still trembling slightly. "What happened?"
Fiona rubbed her temples, looking around "The voices... didn't just give a directional nudge this time. When we stepped onto that back porch, something inside that house spiked. The warning was so intense it forced a blackout on my mind a if to imply that if we had opened that door, none of us would have walked out."
Before they could digest her words, Claire's phone rang. She pulled it up—it was Rein.
"Claire," Rein's voice came through the speaker, calm and noticeably relieved.
"Lira's episode has broken. The fever dropped, the spasms stopped, and she's resting quietly in the penthouse now" she paused sighing once again "Her vision is still slightly hazy, but the immediate crisis has passed."
"Understood," Claire breathed, a heavy weight lifting from her chest. "We're heading back now."
Claire turned to Fiona. "Let's get back to the Huntington Center. We need to stick things out with the others and map out the remaining time window."
Fiona nodded, pushing herself up from the wall. They both looked over at Ryan, expecting him to join them toward the main transit line.
"I'm not coming back just yet," Ryan said quietly, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets as his gaze drifted down the dark, winding avenues of the district.
Claire frowned, concerned. "Ryan? What are you doing? It's not safe to roam these blocks alone, especially with the black ops agents active in the sector."
"I just need some air," Ryan replied, his tone unyielding despite its quietness. "I need to check a few things around the here and I'll be back at the penthouse shortly."
Without waiting for an argument, Ryan turned on his heel, stepping out into the cool evening air and vanishing down the secondary streets of the city, his thoughts demanding with the weight of the day's encounters.