The car glided through the city like it wasn't supposed to be noticed, the hum of its engine barely audible over the rain. Theron leaned against the cool glass, letting the rhythm of passing streetlights steady his pulse. The cooling patch Seris had applied was still working, but it left him heavy, like gravity had doubled.
Hale was a silhouette in the front seat, scrolling through a sleek device. Seris sat beside Theron, posture straight but relaxed, her case resting against her knees. She hadn't said a word since they left. Her presence was oddly grounding; she radiated calm like it was armor.
Theron's fingers brushed the edge of the folded jacket in his lap. Mina's quiet plea—Come back—echoed in his mind. He had no idea if he'd see that apartment again.
The car slowed.
Theron straightened, gaze narrowing. They were pulling into a subterranean lot beneath an old office tower, its entrance guarded by scanners that swept the vehicle in eerie silence. No Guild insignia. No police markings. Just clean, blank concrete.
The car rolled to a stop. Hale turned slightly. "You'll be disoriented when we step inside," he said matter-of-factly. "Keep walking. Don't ask questions out loud."
"Why not?" Theron asked.
Hale's faint smile didn't reach his eyes. "Because the walls are listening. And they're not all ours."
The doors clicked open. The air was cooler here, sharper, tinged with metal. Seris slipped out first, then glanced back to see if Theron was steady enough to follow. He was, but barely.
Inside, the tower's lobby was a labyrinth of white hallways and black glass, the kind of design meant to intimidate more than impress. Theron's gaze caught on the ceiling cameras—sleek, unmarked, shifting just slightly as they tracked him.
Two figures waited near a circular desk. One was a woman in a fitted scarlet dress, red hair cascading over her shoulders, a smile that was both welcoming and dangerous. She moved like she was on a stage she owned.
"New pet project, Hale?" she asked lightly. Her voice was smooth, confident, but her green eyes studied Theron with sharp interest.
"Lyss," Hale said evenly. "Stay civil."
Lyss's smile widened. "Always." She stepped closer, her heels clicking softly. "Theron Vale, isn't it? Quite the mess you made tonight."
He didn't respond. She tilted her head, amusement flickering across her face.
"I like him," she murmured to Seris, as if he wasn't there.
Seris ignored her, pressing her palm against a black panel to open a glass door. "Medical first," she said. "He's burning through stabilization faster than I expected."
Lyss's brows arched. "Oh? Interesting."
Before Theron could reply, a shadow shifted near the far wall.
A man—or something close to one—stepped forward. He was massive, horns curling back from his head, dark markings snaking over his bare arms and neck. His presence was suffocating, the kind of quiet strength that made even the Enforcers back at his apartment feel like amateurs.
Veyrith's crimson eyes fixed on him. "You're smaller than I imagined," he said, voice deep and calm.
Theron straightened, instinctively bracing. "And you're taller."
That earned him the faintest smile.
"Veyrith," Hale said, his tone carrying a warning.
Veyrith crossed his arms, gaze still locked on Theron. "We're recruiting someone who doesn't know what he is. That's a first."
Theron felt Seris's hand lightly brush his elbow, guiding him forward. Her touch was steady, clinical, but not cold. "Don't let him get under your skin," she murmured. "He does that to everyone."
The medical bay was dimmer than the halls, lined with sleek machines humming softly. Seris motioned for Theron to sit on the edge of a low bed while she prepped her gear. Hale lingered near the door, speaking quietly with Lyss.
"They're deciding if I'm worth the trouble," Theron muttered.
Seris glanced at him, her violet runes flickering faintly as she scanned his arm with a slim device. "You were worth the trouble the second you killed a Rank A without a squad," she said. "That's why you're here instead of a cell."
"And if I'd killed two?"
She gave him a look that might've been humor. "Then you'd already be dead."
He almost smiled. Almost.
The door slid open again. Lyss strolled in, her presence commanding even in silence. She perched on a counter, legs crossed, watching Seris work. "Do you know what the List really is?" she asked casually.
Theron stayed quiet.
Lyss's smile sharpened. "It's not just a registry. It's a death clock. Every name added tips the balance of power. Governments panic. Corporations fight over ownership. The Guild…" She trailed off, tilting her head. "The Guild prunes."
Seris shot her a look. "That's enough."
Lyss ignored her, leaning forward. "So, Theron, tell me—do you want to be pruned, bought, or… something else?"
Her voice was teasing, but her eyes were serious.
Theron met her gaze, unflinching. "I want to survive."
Lyss's smirk deepened. She rose from the counter with slow, deliberate grace, her heels clicking softly as she crossed the room. Seris stiffened but didn't stop her.
Lyss circled him like a predator. "Survival is boring," she murmured, brushing a stray lock of his hair from his forehead. "Survival is what prey does."
Her perfume was subtle but intoxicating. She leaned close, fingers curling lightly under his jaw, forcing him to look up at her.
"Prey dies," she whispered. "Predators thrive. Which are you, Theron?"
Seris moved to protest, but Lyss silenced her with a single sharp glance. This wasn't just seduction—it was a test.
Theron didn't flinch. "Depends who's asking."
Lyss chuckled low, close to his ear. "I like you." Her lips ghosted over his jawline, soft enough to make him tense. "I could ruin you, you know. Break that calm, see what you really are underneath."
Her nails traced his collarbone through his shirt.
Seris's voice was tight. "Lyss."
Lyss smiled like a cat playing with her food. "Relax. I'm only proving a point."
She leaned closer, her breath warm against his ear. "They're all afraid of you already," she whispered. "I'm not. Not yet."
Then she pressed her lips to his, slow and claiming, and Theron froze—not from fear, but from the sheer audacity of it. She tasted like wine and fire, her kiss deliberate, calculated.
When she finally pulled back, her green eyes gleamed with amusement. "You'll be fun."
Seris exhaled sharply. "Are you done?"
"For now," Lyss purred, brushing her fingers against his jaw one last time before stepping back.
Theron didn't speak. His heart pounded harder than it had in the alley. Lyss smirked, satisfied with his silence.
"Patch him up, Seris," she said smoothly, heading for the door. "He'll need strength for what's coming."
The door slid shut behind her, leaving an electric charge in the air. Seris glared at the door for a long moment, then turned back to him.
"She's trouble," Seris murmured, pressing a cool patch to his neck.
Theron finally found his voice. "I noticed."