^
"You found the girl?" Santiago asked, his voice low as a glass of crimson drink was placed before him.
"Yes," Ethan replied, eyes dark with thought. "But I don't think she knows what she is yet."
Santiago chuckled, ruffling his brown hair. "Even better."
"We need to get her before Ryder does," Santiago added, downing his drink in one swift motion. A single drop of blood trailed down his lip, which he wiped away casually.
"Did you tell Ryder?"
"Not yet," Ethan muttered. His voice grew heavier. "He'll want her dead the moment he knows."
Santiago's expression shifted. "Sooner or later, he'll find out. He always does."
Ethan's lips curled into a dry smile. "That bloodthirsty brother of mine..."
⸻
Somewhere in the heart of the city, Ryder sat alone in a study, flipping through a thick, ancient book. The air was heavy with the scent of dust and magic.
"I found them," Nate said as he entered, slightly out of breath.
Ryder didn't look up. "Where?"
"An old church in Atlanta. Can you believe it?" Nate smirked. "They didn't even bother hiding."
Ryder finally closed the book, his eyes glinting with purpose. In one blink-fast movement, he appeared in front of Nate, still holding the book.
"Now..." Ryder's eyes burned red. "Forget everything we just discussed. You drank. You had a good night. Nothing more."
With that, Nate's expression dulled. The compulsion took hold.
⸻
The sun hovered high over a quiet church nestled between oak trees. Though it was not Sunday, the doors were open for counseling.
Inside, a young girl approached an older nun resting in a wooden chair.
"Sister Agatha, a man is here to see you."
She sighed. "Another one already? Alright. Bring him in."
The girl returned moments later, leading a cloaked man whose steps echoed down the corridor. His face was obscured, but his aura was unmistakable.
The moment he entered, the woman's eyes widened.
"Ryder."
He didn't smile. He didn't speak. He simply stared at her like a lion watching prey.
"What do you want?" Delilah—disguised as Sister Agatha asked coldly.
"Where's your brother?" Ryder asked, his voice a whisper of warning.
"You can't compel me, Ryder," she snapped.
"I don't need to," he murmured.
In a blur, he pinned her against the wall, one arm firm across her throat.
"I can kill you," he said, eyes glowing crimson.
Delilah narrowed her gaze. "He's... he's in the west wing."
"Call him. No tricks," Ryder said, releasing her with a smirk.
As she moved toward her desk, he sat casually in her chair, spinning a silver pen between his fingers.
"You seem to be enjoying your human costume, Agatha," he mocked.
She ignored the jab. "You think she's the one?"
"I know she is," Ryder replied. "And I need you and Elijah to help me find her exact trace. Tonight."
Moments later, Elijah entered the room. He had the same golden hair as his sister, his expression darkening when he saw Ryder.
"Ugh. You again," Elijah muttered.
"He needs us to track the girl," Delilah explained.
"The lifespan?" Elijah blinked. "You're serious?"
"We begin now," Ryder commanded.
⸻
The siblings sat cross-legged on the stone floor, their hands joined as they chanted ancient words. A small wooden bowl sat between them.
"Do you have anything of hers?" Elijah asked.
Without a word, Ryder tossed a single dark strand of hair onto the table.
"She was compelled," he muttered. "I took it that night."
They chanted louder, their voices swirling like wind in a bottle. A hollow opened in the ground. Elijah dropped the hair into the void.
Suddenly, the room stilled. The magic paused.
Delilah opened her eyes first. "She's powerful."
"I saw her. I saw what she'll become," Elijah said slowly.
Ryder's jaw clenched. He didn't like surprises.
"She's going to survive this," Delilah said softly, almost like a prayer.
Without another word, Ryder stood and left the church. He didn't say thank you.
He never did.
⸻
"Emily!"
Riley's voice broke through the hum of children's laughter. Emily stood near the orphanage playground, gently pushing a young girl on a swing.
Riley marched up, arms crossed, her energy as fierce as always.
"What are you doing here?" Emily asked, raising a brow.
"Kidnapping you for ice cream," Riley grinned, wrapping an arm around Emily's shoulder.
"I can't just leave. The kids—"
"Britney," Riley called out. "You guys good without Emily for a bit?"
"Yes!" the girl on the swing chirped.
Emily sighed in defeat. "Fine. But I'm choosing the toppings."
Riley beamed.
⸻
Minutes later, the two girls walked into a sleek, pastel-colored shop that smelled like sugar, cream, and vanilla. The sign above read: Cream Realm.
"Wow," Emily whispered. "This place looks like an actual palace."
"I told you," Riley said. "Creamy paradise."
Behind the counter stood a young man with a friendly smile and oddly watchful eyes.
"What can I get for the queens today?" he asked.
Riley eyed the menu. "Vanilla with chocolate drizzle."
"And you?" the man turned to Emily, his gaze lingering.
"Same. But... with extra toppings," she smiled politely.
"Coming right up," he said. But his eyes didn't leave hers. Not even for a second.
Riley noticed.
She narrowed her gaze.
Something about his smile felt... wrong.