Marcellus finds us first. He appears in the main corridor with his usual unhurried stride, but the toll shows in the set of his shoulders and the new lines around his mouth. He’s lost weight.
He stops when he sees Maximus. Scans him head to toe.
“You’re back,” he says.
“How long have we been gone?” Maximus asks.
“Twenty-one days.” Marcellus’s voice is even. “Briefing in twenty minutes. Julian’s prepared the full picture.”
“Good.” Maximus clasps his shoulder. Holds it. “Thank you, Marcellus.”
Something crosses Marcellus’s face. Gone before I can clock it. Then he’s back to his usual register.
The briefing assembles in the conference room. Marcellus takes the head of the table, the position he’s held since we left, and stays seated when Maximus enters. He holds the seat for one beat. Their eyes meet. Then he shifts to the right. His chair. The second’s chair.
Maximus sits at the head. I take the seat beside him.
Julian sits across from Marcellus, tablet open. Elena is beside Marcellus. Her hair is longer, the growth making the time gap physical.
Marcellus opens the briefing.
“Contamination incidents have doubled. Two feral attacks made local news. Hunters are organizing with coordinated funding and military-grade equipment. We had two witch probes on the western wards. Erik sent wolves for perimeter support. Zero casualties, two donors relocated.”
He pauses. “Julian will take you through the details.”
Julian gestures to the map on the screen.
“The first feral showed up in Piedmont Park. Shifter cleanup crew got there before the police, but three witnesses had phone cameras. Erik’s people scrubbed the footage. The second was a parking garage in Buckhead. Four casualties before Marcellus’s team put it down. That one made the eleven o’clock news as an ‘animal attack.’”
He changes the screen. “Hunters. Humans who know about us and have decided to fight back. They used to be amateurs who watched too much Buffy.” He pauses. “Not anymore. They’re coordinated, with military precision. Someone is funding them, equipping them, training them.”
He changes the screen again. “Erik’s pack reports three attempted breaches along the Iron Claw perimeter since you left. All probing, all professional.”
He pulls up the next screen. “There were witch probes on our western wards. Seraphina’s architecture held.”
Maximus stands. “Thessivane ratified the alliance. We have Fae military support against Konstantin’s witch forces, and Lanthar is sharing intelligence through Seraphina.”
Marcellus exhales. One breath.
Julian’s fingers are already moving on his tablet. “How soon can we expect Fae assets?”
“Seraphina is coordinating the timeline.”
Maximus runs through priorities. Ward reinforcement, donor relocation, perimeter lighting, each one clipped and precise. Then he stops.
“The eastern wall scaffolding needs to be reprioritized. The anchoring on the upper section is pulling away from the mortar. Another week and the scaffolding itself becomes a liability. I looked at it this afternoon,” he says.
Julian’s fingers stop on his tablet. Elena’s head turns. Marcellus’s mouth tightens.
“This afternoon?” Marcellus asks quietly.
“We arrived at noon,” Maximus says. “Through the Veil.”
“At noon,” Marcellus repeats it. “In daylight.”
“Full sun,” Maximus acknowledges.
“How is that possible?” Julian asks.
