The Council chamber doors closed behind them with a heavy thud, sealing away the murmurs and judgmental eyes. Lyn exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to her chest. Her heart still hadn't slowed since she'd glimpsed that hooded figure in the gallery.
It was him. She knew it in her bones. The same shadow that had smiled at her before she drowned. The same presence that whispered through every text.
Michael's hand guided her firmly through the polished corridor, his grip steady against the small of her back. "What happened?" he asked in a low voice.
"Nothing," she lied.
His gaze cut to her, sharp and unrelenting. "Don't."
She swallowed. "I just… thought I saw someone."
"Where."
"In the gallery. Watching."
Michael's jaw tightened. Ethan, walking just behind, caught the look and immediately tapped a message into his device. Kai and Daren disappeared down a side hallway like hounds catching a scent.
"You're sure?" Michael asked.
"Yes." Her voice trembled despite herself. "I'd know that feeling anywhere."
He stopped walking. Right there in the middle of the hall, he turned to her fully, his presence a wall that blocked everything else out. His hand brushed her hair back, fingers resting briefly against her temple as if to ground her.
"Then we find him," he said. "And we end this."
Back at the estate, Rosa appeared with a perfectly controlled smile and a stack of reports. "The Council will issue no formal complaint," she said briskly. "Though Seraphine has already scheduled three luncheons to spread gossip. Expect chatter."
"Let her chatter," Michael said flatly.
Rosa's eyes flicked to Lyn. "You handled yourself… unexpectedly well."
"Thanks," Lyn said. Then added under her breath, "It was mostly kale-powered confidence."
Rosa blinked. "Kale?"
Michael ignored them both, already turning to Ethan. "The prints from last night's roof. Any progress?"
"Still processing," Ethan said. "But there's a match pending."
Michael nodded once. "Stay on it."
That evening, Lyn retreated to her room, exhausted. She peeled off the suffocating dress and collapsed into the oversized bed in a hoodie she'd begged the maids to let her keep. The Council session replayed in her head—the stares, the whispers, Victor Hale's smug smile. And beneath it all, the shadow in the gallery.
She pressed her face into a pillow. Why me?
A soft knock came at the door. Not the firm rhythm of Michael. Not Rosa's polite tap. A hesitant knock, almost uncertain.
"Come in?" Lyn called.
The door cracked open. Daren peeked in, holding something behind his back.
"Miss Amster," he said sheepishly. "I, uh… thought you could use this."
He revealed a drone. Painted pink. With glitter stickers.
Lyn blinked. "What is that."
"Recon support," he said proudly. "I call her Sparkle Wing."
From the hall, Kai's voice carried: "It's called Unit Three. Ignore him."
Lyn burst out laughing, clutching her stomach. The tension of the day cracked just a little.
"Thanks," she said, smiling. "Really. Both of you."
Kai appeared in the doorway, deadpan as always. "Stay near the windows tonight. We'll monitor."
Her smile faded. They were serious. The hooded figure hadn't just been in her imagination.
Later, Lyn sat on the balcony with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The night was cool, the city distant, the estate gardens glowing faintly with lanterns. She held the locket in her palm, tracing the words inside.
For the day you forget, I'll remind you.
Her throat tightened. She wished she could ask the real Fionlyn Amster—if such a person still existed—what the promise had been. She wished she could ask her parents. She wished…
The phone buzzed.
Her heart stopped.
DID YOU ENJOY YOUR PERFORMANCE TODAY?
Her breath came short. She typed quickly: Who are you? What do you want?
Dots appeared.
ONLY WHAT WAS PROMISED.
Her pulse hammered. What promise?
The reply came instantly: ASK MICHAEL.
Lyn's blood ran cold. She stared through the glass doors at the man in her room, seated in a chair, reading through reports with unshakable calm. Michael.
The one who had sworn to protect her. The one who said he would be the thing that didn't change.
The one the hooded figure said had broken a promise.
"Lyn."
Her head snapped up. Michael stood in the doorway, watching her with those unreadable eyes. He must have seen the phone in her hand, the look on her face.
"What did he say?" Michael asked quietly.
She shook her head. "Just… nonsense."
He studied her, as though peeling back the lie. For a long moment, she thought he would demand the truth.
Instead, he stepped closer, reached down, and took her free hand. His palm was warm, his grip firm, steadying.
"You don't have to carry it alone," he said.
Her chest ached. She wanted to believe him. Wanted to sink into that certainty. But the message burned in her mind like a brand.
Ask Michael.
When she finally lay down to sleep, Lyn dreamed of rivers. Cold water. A smile beneath a hood. And Michael's voice, distant, saying her name like a prayer and a curse at once.
She woke in the dark, heart racing, the sound of an off-key wind chime floating faintly through the night.
The hooded figure was still out there. Still watching.
And for the first time, she wasn't sure if she was more afraid of the shadow in the hood…
Or the secrets Michael might be keeping.