The world blurred a little as Adam stumbled out of his last class of the day. His head felt heavy, weighed down by the long hours he had spent hunched over books since morning. His body was sore from sitting, but the deeper ache came from his leg, the injury still clinging to him like a stubborn shadow.
It was better now than it had been days ago; he could walk without limping too noticeably, but every step still reminded him that he wasn't whole. And with exams closing in, that reminder gnawed at him.
He rubbed his thigh as he made his way down the hall, exhaling through his nose when he reached the notice board near the common hall. Students were already gathered around it, pointing, murmuring, some groaning. He pressed forward through the shifting crowd until the schedule came into view.
The neat rows of dates and subjects stared back at him like carved commandments:
Thursday and Friday—Club Examinations.
Monday through Friday—Academic Examinations.
Adam's mouth went dry. His heart sank as if the paper itself had dealt him a personal blow. The club exams, physical, performance-driven, the kind that demanded agility, speed, endurance, were only two days away. His leg throbbed at the thought.
What if he couldn't perform? What if he failed outright, humiliated in front of everyone? He swallowed hard, dragging his eyes down to the academic schedule. That was its own battlefield, one he was no soldier in. Numbers, formulas, texts, histories, they never stuck the way a ball or a blade did.
He sighed, shoulders dropping as he stepped back from the board. The chatter of other students carried on around him, but he barely registered it. 'Great. If I can't hold up physically, then I'll have to lean harder into the academics. Except… I suck at those too.'
His mind drifted to Abigail, to her patient explanations during their study sessions, to the way her steady presence had made the material almost tolerable. Maybe today, she could save him again. The thought steadied him enough to move toward the library.
The moment he stepped inside, the hush of the room fell over him, cool and still compared to the buzzing corridors. Rows of books stretched into the distance, but his eyes found what he was looking for quickly, Abigail, seated at one of the benches near the tall windows. Relief surged in his chest, until he noticed the two other familiar figures beside her.
Anissa and Alice. The triplets were together, heads bent toward each other in what looked like a tense debate. Their voices were low, but their body language gave away the friction. Abigail's brows were drawn tight, Alice's lips were pressed thin, and Anissa, as always, had her arms folded like she was bracing for a fight.
Adam slowed, hesitating. His gut told him not to intrude, but exhaustion and need nudged him forward anyway. He approached the bench, managing a polite smile.
"Hey," he said softly. "I was wondering if maybe I could join you all. Could use the help with—"
"No," Anissa cut in before he finished. Her blunt tone landed like a stone dropped in water. "Not now."
Alice shot her sister a look, then turned to Adam with a gentler smile. "What she means is, we're in the middle of something… private. It's not that we don't want to help you."
Abigail finally looked up at him. Her eyes softened, but her voice carried a weight that left no room for argument. "We'll study another time, Adam. I promise. But right now, this is… a family matter. We'd really appreciate some privacy."
The firmness in her tone left him with little choice. He nodded, trying not to let the disappointment show. "Right. Of course. I'll leave you to it, then."
Turning away, he muttered under his breath, "Maybe I should take a break too." His feet carried him slowly toward the exit, but just as he reached the end of the row, a flicker of voices drifted after him, urgent, hushed, the kind that begged to be overheard.
He paused, pretending to glance over the nearest shelf, pulling a random book halfway free. His ears strained.
"…Father's been quiet since…" one of the sisters whispered.
"…but why pull out of the elections now?" another replied, frustration curling the words.
Adam's pulse quickened. They were talking about Sebastian Thorne.
"…no explanation, no messages, nothing. He just went radio silent."
The triplets' voices faded into indistinct murmurs as they dropped lower, but Adam caught enough to piece together the truth. They didn't know. They were as in the dark as he was, scrambling to make sense of their father's sudden withdrawal and silence.
Adam eased the book back into place and straightened, his thoughts buzzing. If the Thorne triplets didn't know what was happening, then the mystery was far bigger than he imagined.
Do you want me to carry Adam's suspicions a step further here, master, like hinting at him quietly suspecting Sebastian and Farren are connected somehow, or leave it just as a moment of discovery that the triplets are clueless too?
***
The sun had begun its slow descent, setting the sky ablaze with streaks of crimson and gold. From the ridge above, the world seemed dipped in firelight, an endless stretch of fields and treetops that framed the Gryphon estate in the distance like a dark jewel.
Engines hummed against the silence as a line of black SUVs climbed the narrow, gravel road and rolled to a halt at the crest of the hill. Dust curled into the air, carried off by the breeze. The lead car's door opened with a deliberate weight, and Austin Greene stepped out.
He pulled his sunglasses from his face, folding them with care before slipping them into his jacket pocket. The dying sun washed over his skin, painting his sharp features with a molten sheen. For a moment, he just stood there, still and steady, the wind tugging at the edge of his blazer, his buzz-cut hair catching the light.
One by one, his team emerged from the vehicles, silent, efficient, well-trained men and women dressed in muted tactical gear. They fanned out instinctively, eyes sweeping the horizon, already falling into the rhythm of watchmen.
Austin inhaled deeply, the scent of pine and dry earth filling his chest. His gaze locked on the Gryphon estate far below, its high walls and sloping roofs shadowed by the sinking sun. The place seemed unnervingly calm, the kind of calm that made the air feel too thin, too fragile, like a sheet of glass just waiting to shatter.
"Listen up," Austin said, his voice cutting across the quiet. It carried authority without needing to be raised, the kind of tone that demanded attention. His people turned to him instantly.
"This ridge is our post for the night. No one engages unless I give the word." His eyes narrowed as he gestured toward the estate. "We're here for surveillance only. That means no heroics, no noise, no mistakes. We see, we record, we wait."
His second-in-command, a tall woman with a scar tracing her jawline, nodded. "Understood. Do we expect movement tonight?"
Austin's jaw flexed. He didn't answer right away. His instincts told him yes. The timing was too perfect, the warnings too precise. He thought of Farren's words, of the way the man had pivoted their conversation so neatly, so surgically. It left a taste in his mouth he couldn't shake.
"We prepare as if we do," Austin said finally. "Eyes open, rifles down. If something happens, we're ghosts. Clear?"
A ripple of assent moved through the team. They began dispersing, setting up equipment in the cover of trees, blending with the shadows of dusk. The hum of quiet activity followed, scopes being fixed, comms tested, tripods locked into place.
Austin stayed where he was, hands tucked behind his back, his silhouette stark against the glow of the fading sun. His eyes never left the estate, that silent fortress that had become the focal point of so many threads of power, suspicion, and danger.
The world dimmed as twilight settled, and a hush fell across the hill. The Gryphon estate glimmered faintly under the first touch of starlight, distant and unknowing.
Austin Greene's expression hardened. Whatever was coming, it would start here.
And when it did, he and his team would be the first to see it.