“Someone gave them a map,” Luca murmured behind them.
Riven’s stomach twisted. “Any survivors?”
Cassian’s voice was grim. “Too quiet. We’ve only seen bodies. No staff. No civilians. That doesn’t mean they’re gone, but…”
Cassian glanced at him, a flicker of shared relief passing between them.
Then they reached the landing above the main foyer, stepped out onto the overlook—and stopped.
Below them, the estate’s grand entrance had become a battlefield. Blood soaked the marble floors, House Virellien guards fighting in scattered groups, trying to hold back a tide. Hollow Hand operatives flooded the space in waves—some sleek in black tactical gear, others humming with the fractured shimmer of Soulglass.
Arcane glyphs rippled through the air—wards clashing, illusions breaking. The heavy front doors had been blasted open. Bodies lay crumpled at their base.
Riven stepped forward on instinct, weapon rising. “We can help—”
Thane caught him with a brutal grip. “No.”
Riven jerked back, glare sharp. “We can’t just stand here—”
“There’s nothing we can do for them now,” Thane said, voice low and edged with fury he was barely keeping in check. “They’re buying us time. We finish the mission.”
Cassian’s silence said he agreed. Luca swallowed hard and turned his face away.
Riven’s hands tightened around the pistol. His whole body itched to move, to dive in, to fight—but Thane hadn’t moved, and that said everything. “No,” Sorrell said, stepping forward, his tone calm but firm. “You can’t. But we can.”
He turned to his strike team. “Go. Hit them from the flank. Keep it tight. Minimal exposure.”
The Glint soldiers moved like shadows, already slipping away down the opposite stairwell, their weapons drawn and ready.
Thane watched them go, something dark and grateful passing across his face. “House Glint has my thanks.”
Sorrell gave a half-nod, not quite a smile. “Just make sure my team’s effort means something.”
Thane turned toward the corridor again. “We find the Matriarch. If she falls, the House goes with her.”
Riven nodded, throat tight.
Thane looked at him a moment longer, gaze steady, then offered the faintest nod. “It’s time.”
And they moved forward—into fire, into shadow, into what waited at the heart of the estate.
Chapter 71
Riven hadn’t expected it to hit him this hard.
The estate was falling apart around them—stone and sigil, blood and legacy. The House he’d once considered a gilded prison had become something more in the weeks since his arrival. He had walked these corridors in borrowed silence and hard-edged pride, expecting nothing, bracing for judgment. Now, with each fallen warrior, each broken wall, each flickering sigil that once pulsed steady with Virellien magic, he felt the shape of something cracking inside him.
He’d come here shackled. He had stayed by choice.
He hadn’t realized he was mourning it until now.
A sharp noise echoed behind them—a shattering boom of arcane force followed by booted feet pounding marble.
They turned as one. A mass of Hollow Hand soldiers swarmed into view at the far end of the hallway, weapons raised, armor black and sharp with mirrored masks catching the light like grinning skulls. Their movements were efficient, almost mechanical. Precision and hatred in every step.
Riven’s breath caught.
Luca and Cassian didn’t hesitate. They exchanged a look and stepped forward together, falling into mirrored combat stances. Cassian drew a gleaming silver pistol in one hand, a long, wickedknife in the other. Luca’s hands moved through the air, pulling shadow magic to his fingertips, his eyes gone flat with focus.
