Rain hammered the wrecked sedan. Cold drops mixed with the blood on my palms and the sharp sting of glass cuts. The world narrowed to ringing ears, burning lungs, and the low growl of an engine cutting through the downpour.
A black motorcycle slid to a stop between me and the nearest mercenary. Tires bit wet asphalt. The rider kicked the stand down in one smooth motion and swung off. Helmet stayed low. Dark gear glistened under streetlights.
The lead mercenary laughed once—short, ugly. "You're kidding."
The rider pulled the helmet. Dark hair spilled free, soaked and wild.
Kira.
My mind blanked. Breath caught somewhere between lungs and throat.
She stepped forward. A sword—long, slender, gleaming even in the rain—already in her hand.
The mercenary raised his weapon. "Stand down, girl. This doesn't concern—"
Kira moved.
She closed the distance in two strides. The sword flashed. Metal met metal with a high, ringing clang. The mercenary staggered back. She pressed the advantage—another strike, faster, precise. He blocked again, but the force drove him to one knee.
More shouts erupted. Boots pounded pavement. Guns came up.
Kira didn't hesitate.
She spun low, blade sweeping in a tight arc. One mercenary cried out and dropped, clutching his leg. Another fired—muzzle flash bright against the gray afternoon. The bullet sparked off the wrecked car inches from my head.
I ducked lower. Heart slammed so hard it hurt.
Kira vaulted over the hood of the sedan. Landed beside me. Rain streamed down her face. Eyes fierce, focused.
"Stay behind me," she said. Voice low. Steady. "We're getting out of here."
I stared at her. "Kira—what the hell—"
"Later." She grabbed my wrist. Pulled me toward the bike. "Move."
The mercenaries regrouped. Orders barked. Weapons tracked us.
Kira released me long enough to swing onto the saddle. Engine roared back to life—deep, angry. She reached back.
"Get on. Hold tight."
I climbed behind her. Arms locked around her waist. Leather jacket slick with rain. Her body tense, coiled.
She twisted the throttle.
The bike surged forward. Tires spun once on wet pavement, then caught. We shot down the side street. Rain lashed my face. Buildings blurred into streaks of gray and neon.
Behind us—engines. Tires screaming. The SUVs peeled after us.
Kira leaned into a sharp turn. The bike tilted so far my knee nearly scraped asphalt. I tightened my grip. She straightened at the last second. We rocketed onto a wider avenue.
Traffic parted around us—cars swerving, horns blaring. One SUV tried to cut us off. Kira swerved left, then right. Passed between two delivery vans with inches to spare.
My pulse roared louder than the engine.
She shouted over her shoulder. "Hold on tighter!"
I did.
She opened the throttle fully. The bike screamed. Speed pressed me against her back. Wind tore at my clothes. Rain stung like needles.
Streets narrowed again. Alleys. Back roads. She knew every turn—every shortcut. The pursuing vehicles fell behind, one by one. Engines faded. Sirens rose in the distance—too late.
She slowed only when the city gave way to quieter streets. Trees lined the sidewalks. Houses sat farther apart. Familiar houses.
247 Nevergreen Terrace appeared ahead—two stories, porch light already on. Mom's car in the driveway. Another black sedan parked across the street. No markings. No one visible inside.
Kira eased the bike to the curb. Engine idled low. She killed it.
Silence rushed in—rain on leaves, distant thunder, my own ragged breathing.
I slid off. Legs shook. She swung down after me. Helmet came off again. Hair clung to her face in dark strands.
I stared at her. "You… you just—"
"Saved your life. Yeah." She sheathed the sword—somehow it disappeared under her jacket like it had never been there. "We need to get inside."
The front door opened before we reached the porch.
Jade stood there—eyes wide, face pale. "Raine?"
I crossed the distance in three steps. She threw her arms around me. Hard. I hugged her back. Felt her tremble.
"You're okay," she whispered. "You're okay."
Mom appeared behind her. Face drawn. Eyes red. She didn't speak—just pulled us both inside and shut the door.
The living room smelled of coffee and old books. Same couch. Same photos on the mantel. Everything familiar. Everything wrong.
Kira followed us in. Closed the door quietly. Stood near the wall—watching, waiting.
Mom looked at her. Voice low. "Thank you."
Kira dipped her head once. "Part of the job."
I pulled back from Jade. Looked between them. "Someone start talking. Now."
Mom exhaled. Moved to the couch. Sat. Gestured for us to do the same.
We did.
She folded her hands in her lap. Knuckles white.
"Your father," she said, "is not a carpenter."
The words landed heavy. I waited.
"He never was. The travel. The late nights. The tools he kept locked in the garage. All of it… cover."
Jade frowned. "Cover for what?"
Mom met my eyes. Hers were steady now. Resigned.
"He is the acting Grand Master of the Knights Templar."
Silence stretched. Thick. Unbelievable.
I laughed once—short, disbelieving. "The Templars? Like… crusades Templars?"
"Older than that," Kira said quietly from the wall. "The order never truly died. It adapted. Survived. Went underground. Your father leads what's left."
Jade looked at me. Then at Mom. Back at me. "This is insane."
"It's real," Mom said. "And it's dangerous. Someone—someone powerful—found out who he is. Took him. And they believe you know something. Or that you're leverage."
I shook my head. "I don't know anything. I'm an insurance adjuster. I argue with people about fender benders."
"You're his son," Kira said. "Bloodline matters to them. More than you realize."
Rain tapped the windows. Steady. Insistent.
Mom reached across the coffee table. Took my hand.
"I kept you both safe as long as I could," she said. "Hid the truth. Let you live normal lives. But normal is over."
Jade's voice cracked. "What do we do now?"
Mom looked at Kira.
Kira stepped forward. "We protect you. We find Robert. And we stop whoever's coming next."
I looked at her—really looked. The woman I'd woken up beside this morning. The woman who'd just fought off an armed squad in the rain with a sword.
"Who are you?" I asked. Quiet. "Really?"
She met my gaze. No hesitation.
"I'm one of the people sworn to keep the old secrets safe. And to keep you alive."
The room felt smaller. The air heavier.
Outside, rain kept falling.
Inside, everything I thought I knew lay in pieces.