Emmett's shock upon hearing the name "Regina" fractured the quiet tension of the moment.
"Regina?" he repeated, his voice tight. It wasn't a question, but a challenge. It was the name of his late mother.
Piaxao smiled, a subtle, knowing smirk that was somehow more chilling than his earlier menace. He nodded, his eyes fixed on Emmett's face, studying the flicker of pain and confusion he had created.
"Indeed," Piaxao confirmed. "A beautiful name for a beautiful girl, wouldn't you agree? Helena and I chose it in honor of a dear friend and colleague who we respected very much. Your mother was a truly brilliant woman, Emmett."
The confirmation was a deliberate punch. Piaxao was using the memory of Emmett's mother to establish a false sense of intimacy and claim ownership over Emmett's past.
Helena, oblivious to the psychological warfare being waged, stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on Regina's shoulder. "Don't just stand there, dear. Say hello properly."
Regina flinched slightly under her mother's touch. She finally lifted her head enough to meet Emmett's eyes, but only for a fraction of a second before her gaze darted back to the ground. She mumbled a tiny, "Hello."
Before Emmett could process the girl's name or her overwhelming shyness, the door opened again, and a second, older girl—taller and less reserved—emerged. She had the same bright blonde hair as Helena.
"Father, is he coming inside now? I want to show him the garden automata," she said, her voice confident and impatient.
"Soon, Elena," Piaxao said smoothly. He clapped Emmett lightly on the shoulder.
"Come, Emmett. You've had a long day. Let's step out of the sun and let Helena get you settled."
The men who had brought Emmett to the house remained outside, guarding the door. Piaxao ushered Emmett into the house.
The interior was exquisite.
The floor was inlaid with dark, polished wood, and the walls were covered in expensive silk wallpaper patterned with abstract designs. Oil paintings of serene landscapes and classical mythological scenes lined the staircase. It was the home of a man who equated wealth with taste, and it felt unnervingly normal—the antithesis of the cold, metallic labs and ruins Emmett was used to.
Helena led the way, chattering brightly about the house's history while Regina trailed behind.
"I've asked for a tray of tea and scones to be prepared," Helena said warmly. "You must be hungry, dear."
"That will be lovely, Helena," Piaxao interrupted gently. "But Emmett and I have some urgent business to discuss first. He's had a rather rough journey. We'll be in the study."
Helena immediately stopped. "Of course, darling. The study it is. I'll make sure no one disturbs you."
Piaxao led Emmett past the opulent living areas and into a quieter wing of the house. He opened a heavy oak door to a study lined entirely with shelves of antique books and technical journals. A small, efficient steam-powered reading lamp cast a golden glow over a massive mahogany desk.
The massive oak door of the study clicked shut, sealing Emmett alone with Piaxao Stein. The air, thick with the scent of leather and old paper, was silent. Piaxao settled comfortably behind his mahogany desk, the single steam-powered reading lamp casting a harsh gold light on his face.
Emmett remained standing, his posture rigid. His mind was racing, trying to categorize and neutralize the conflicting information: the shock of the name "Regina," the elegance of the mansion, and the man's claim to his father's past.
Piaxao didn't waste time. His eyes, fixed on Emmett, were sharp, devoid of the soft indulgence he had shown his family.
"Tell me," Piaxao began, his voice flat and commanding. "Why were you there? Why were you in the ruins of that warehouse with those people?"
Emmett opened his mouth, ready to give an answer, but his mind flashed to Briar's desperate, tear-filled scream of his name in the ruins, her impossible act of sacrifice. He saw Felix's quiet concern, and the twins' speed. They weren't just assets. They were family. A dysfunctional, broken family, but a family nonetheless, and he loyal to this family.
He remained silent.
Piaxao watched the subtle tension in Emmett's jaw and smiled—a slow, calculating smile that confirmed he saw the conflict.
"Very well," Piaxao conceded, sitting back. "The truth will come out, eventually. Now, let's discuss finding your father's killer..."
...
Back in the infirmary, the atmosphere was thick with guilt and exhaustion. Briar lay still, her breathing too shallow.
Felix sat closest, obsessively tracking her faint movements. "She hasn't moved," he whispered, his voice cracking. "She's been like this for too long."
Rhys was pacing, his raw energy unable to be contained. "We have to do something. Move her, anything."
"We can't," Eta said, her voice weary. "We can barely move ourselves. Theodore is badly injured. The doctors here are the best chance she has."
"We can't just leave her here. What if those doctors don't know what they're doing? What if the calvanitein her system is rejecting the treatment" Rhys erupted.
"They are doing the best they can," Theta interjected softly. "We need to trust the care she's getting."
Corbin, who had returned from the room Theodore was in, watched the argument, letting the raw emotion play out. He understood their feelings, but their fear was blinding them.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the cold brass of the custom bullet casing. He held it up, not for inspection, but as a silent argument against their emotional collapse.
"We can't fix her injuries," Corbin stated, drawing all eyes. "But we can fix the problem that put her here."
He turned the casing over. "The man who took Emmett and nearly killed Briar is still out there. We need to find out who he is, and we need to do it soon. Because every minute we wait is another minute that man has to change his mind about keeping Emmett alive."
The gravity of his words hung in the air, instantly shifting their focus from the helpless worry over Briar to the urgent, cold fear for Emmett's life.