The Glint soldiers moved like water, flowing out across the estate’s perimeter, their boots nearly silent on the broken stone and scorched grass.
Riven fell in behind Thane, close enough to keep pace but not so near that he’d get in the way if it came to a fight. His hand hovered near his weapon, and in his pocket, he could feel the syringe pressing against his ribs.
Chapter 68
The closer they got to the Virellien estate, the more Riven’s nerves prickled. Shadows bent at unnatural angles in the moonlight, the silence pressing too tight against his ears. His boots made no sound, but it felt like every step echoed somewhere deeper—somewhere they hadn’t yet reached.
He drew in beside Thane, lowering his voice to a whisper barely audible over the rustle of night wind and distant creak of Glint gear.
“Thane,” he said, eyes scanning the dark line of the estate wall up ahead, “you remember what Yerin said, right? About having help. Inside help. That’s how he got in.”
Thane didn’t look at him, gaze fixed forward. “I remember,” he said, voice low and hard, leaving no room for comfort. “I just don’t want to think about it right now.”
Riven swallowed, nodded. “Could’ve been a lie.”
Thane didn’t respond. Just a grunt. But it didn’t sound convinced.
“If itwastrue,” Riven went on, still keeping his voice hushed, “if someonedidbetray you—betray the House…”
Thane cut him off before he could finish. “Then they’ll pray for death,” he said, his voice stripped of anything human, “long before it comes.”
“Hey.” Sorrell’s voice sliced through the tension. “Maybe let’s table the murder whispers until we’re not ten feet from a likely ambush, yeah?”
Riven held the pistol in both hands, his fingers tight on the grip not from confidence, but caution. It wasn’t that the Glint-issued weapon was unfamiliar—he’d handled guns before—but something about this one made his palms sweat. The heaviness of it. The weight of knowing he’d need it.
He didn’t trust himself to holster it. Not when his heart was pounding so hard it might shake the thing loose. Better to hold on tight and not give it the chance.
Ahead of him, the others moved in tense silence, boots muffled against the grass, weapons low and eyes sharp. They weren’t talking anymore. The air was too thick for that—like every breath carried a charge, every second stretching into the unknown.
The estate walls loomed higher now, a clean white-gray in the moonlight, as if untouched by the chaos that had unfolded inside. But Riven knew better. The silence was wrong. The kind that cameafterviolence, not before.
They reached the gate.
Without hesitation, Thane stepped forward. In a few swift, practiced motions, he scaled the wrought-iron structure like it was nothing more than a fence at the end of a garden. He crouched at the top, surveying the interior. Then he dropped down, landing with a muffled thud.
“It’s clear,” Thane called back softly. “Come over.”
Sorrell went next, graceful and efficient. The Glint soldiers followed, disciplined, no wasted movement. Riven hesitated. The pistol made climbing awkward, but he wasn’t letting go of it.
He slung it carefully around to his back, fingers already sweaty as he grabbed the iron rungs and started up. His boots scraped faintly. The metal was cold under his palms. At the top,the drop seemed farther than it was, shadows pooling like oil at the base.
“Don’t think about it,” he muttered to himself.
He pushed off.
His landing was rough—knees jarring, balance just barely held, the knee still a bit tender even after Vexa’s healing—but before he could stumble, a hand caught his arm, steadying him.
Thane.
It should have irritated him—being caught like that, like he needed help—but instead the touch sent a subtle wave of calm through his chest.
“Thanks,” Riven muttered, brushing it off like it was nothing.
Thane gave no reply, just nodded once and turned back toward the estate.
The silence on this side of the wall was different. Heavier.
Riven drew the pistol back into his grip, holding it properly now. The tension that had been slowly coiling since they left House Glint was thick in his throat. This was it. Whatever they were walking into—traitors, Soulglass-fueled killers, ghosts from Thane’s past—there was no turning back.
