Dagur took a step forward, his presence pressing down on the room like a storm cloud. The guests lining the sides wore varied expressions.
Some were wide-eyed with shock that he had even shown up, others were resentful from past dealings with him, and the majority wore looks of anticipation, eager to witness the spectacle unfold.
"Uncle," Dagur said, his voice smooth but cutting. "There is no need to bother yourself anymore. You can go back to your gentleman's club and continue wasting away."
Preston's face twisted, veins bulging at his temple and neck. Unlike his mother, he didn't hold back. "You little piece of shit," he spat, his voice trembling with rage. "This position was never yours to begin with!"
Dagur's lips curled into a devilish grin, his eyes fierce and unyielding. The intensity of his gaze made Preston tremble involuntarily, his bravado faltering.
Cynane's heart sank. She tried to stop him, but it was too late. Her son had opened his mouth, airing family business in front of the entire assembly.
Without hesitation, Cynane's hand lashed out, slapping the light from Preston's eyes. The sound cracked through the ballroom, silencing whispers.
Dagur had expected as much. Cynane was ruthless when it came to saving face. Plotting in secret was one thing, but a direct confrontation in public was unacceptable.
Preston stood stunned, his cheek throbbing. He wanted to speak, but Cynane's warning glare froze him. He pursed his lips, swallowing his pride.
Dagur sneered, about to tell them to carry on with the banquet, when suddenly, the fire alarm blared. There was no emergency, it was all Luis Verrochi's doing. He had been waiting for the perfect chance to undermine Marcel, and this job was the perfect opportunity.
He knew Marcel and his bandits were planning a heist tonight, so why not sabotage them and let Marcel get caught? Maybe then his father would finally value him more, finally trust him to handle the family's affairs.
Since he couldn't attend personally, he asked one of his friends Troy who was an invited guest, to pull the fire alarm. No one in their right mind would dare do such a thing at the Castel home, but Luis sweetened the deal with the promise of a customized sports car. That was enough to buy him but he wouldn't do the work himself, he wasn't that stupid.
He messaged an influencer anonymously and sent her an invite. He convinced her to do it with promises of a brand ambassador contract for his family's jewelry line, was the one to execute the plan. When she had texted asking why, Luis only smirked. "Because it will be fun." At his signal, she pulled the alarm.
The shrill sound tore through the ballroom, and the room fell into chaos. Guests screamed, rushing toward the exits, their elegant gowns and tuxedos tangling in the frenzy.
Dagur stood still, his eyes narrowing as he watched the panic unfold. He turned his gaze toward Samphire, the weight of his stare heavy with meaning.
Samphire inhaled sharply, already knowing what that look meant. "I will go check," she said, her voice steady despite the storm brewing around them.
***
Minutes stretched into half an hour. The vault resisted every attempt, its intricate layers demanding patience and mastery. But Rhea's focus sharpened, her trembling hands steadying as instinct and discipline guided her. Then, at last, a deep, resonant click echoed through the chamber. The vault's core shifted, gears aligning like stars in orbit. The door eased open with a sigh of steel.
Rhea's face lit up. She leapt to her feet, unable to contain herself, bouncing with exhilaration. "I did it! I actually did it!"
Just then, the fire alarm blared. Both of them froze, the shrill sound cutting through their triumph.
"Shit," Dex swore in the comms.
In the ballroom, Lila moved with the guests, her gaze locking on Dagur. Ever since she saw his face, a strange familiarity gnawed at her, though she couldn't recall where she had seen him before.
While chaos spread upstairs, Marcel and Rhea were already inside the vault, moving faster. Marcel's eyes scanned for five specific items, his movements precise, while Rhea packed whatever she could into the bags.
Suddenly Dex's voice came, sharp and breathless. "Oh shit, boss... we hooked a big fish. No, a great white."
Marcel paused, stuffing the last item on his list into the bag. "What do you mean?"
Dex's tone carried weight. "That old woman… she's Cynane Castel. The Cynane Castel."
Marcel froze, a terrible premonition settling over him like ice. He had never taken on a job without thorough research. Every target, every location, every detail was dissected before he moved. This mansion had been no different. His investigation revealed it was owned by an oil tycoon, nothing more. So he hadn't thought twice about accepting the job.
But now, standing in the shadows, Marcel realized the truth. This place wasn't just any mansion, it was tied to the Castel family. And if he had known that, he would have walked away without hesitation.
It wasn't the Castel family itself that worried him. It was the Beast of Castel. The blood hound. The grim reaper. The angel of death. Dagur Castel. Whatever name one used, it all meant the same thing: a bloodthirsty psychopath no one should ever cross.
Marcel's voice was sharp in the comms. "Eli, Lila—get the fuck out of there."
Eli blinked in confusion, standing amidst the crowd. "What?"
Lila's instincts were quicker. Her gut was screaming at her that something wasn't right and her gut was never wrong.
"Slipping out now," she whispered.
"Okay," Eli muttered, finally catching on. Together, they began to fade into the darkness, their movements discreet, slipping out of the property unnoticed by most.
But not by all.
High above, hidden in the trees, a man with a gaze sharper than an owl's watched them. His voice came through the comms, cold and certain. "Will you look at that, I just caught two suspicious rabbits slipping into the woods."
Samphire's reply was immediate. "Follow them. Let them lead you to their lair."
"Say no more," the watcher said, leaping from the tree to pursue.