"Adrian, thank you for saving me from the fire in the editor's office earlier."
Chloe's voice carried a rare sincerity as she stood inside the makeshift office. The Torch had taken on new life in a cramped storage room after the blaze destroyed their original headquarters. The walls smelled faintly of dust and cleaning supplies, but Chloe had turned it into something functional.
She had only just been discharged from the hospital, yet her energy was already focused back on her paper.
"You should thank Clark," Adrian said flatly, his tone cool. He leaned casually against a desk stacked with old issues. "I didn't do much."
"Of course I know that." Chloe shook her head. "Clark told me himself. If you hadn't been there, he wouldn't have made it in time. You subdued Coach Watt. In a sense, you saved me too. So yes—this thank you is earned."
Her shoulders lifted in a shrug as she sipped from a chipped mug of coffee. The storage room lacked heating, and the draft made her shiver. She rubbed her arms and muttered, "Feels like I've got one foot out the door already. I've never wanted the old office back more than now."
She glanced toward Adrian, hoping to find his attention. But he was focused on the newspaper in his hands, eyes sharp and unreadable.
Does he even notice me? Chloe thought, a sting of disappointment settling in. Clark at least pretends. Adrian, though, was like a wall—impenetrable.
Her eyes drifted to the bold headline on the paper:
"Moira Adams, Head of New Fly Energy Group, Dies in Slums!"
Chloe frowned. "I knew her—at least, her company. They called it a new energy firm, but the pollution they caused was no better than the old fossil plants. Honestly, compared to them, even LuthorCorp's fertilizer plant could win an environmental award."
Adrian ignored her commentary, his gaze settling on the smaller print: Star City – Queen Enterprises.
After a moment's pause, he asked, "Do you know Oliver Queen?"
Chloe tilted her head. "Oliver? No. I only know Robert Queen, the CEO. Is Oliver related?"
Adrian gave a short shake of his head. "Never mind." He folded the paper, his mind already working elsewhere.
He knew Oliver Queen's destiny—still living recklessly, still years away from being stranded on an island where fate would forge him into something more.
Discarding the current paper, Adrian pulled another from the stack. He skimmed quickly, his attention snagging on another story: Lionel Luthor's attempted assassination.
Lionel. Moira.
Pieces began to align. Adrian remembered the list he had obtained from Chris, the reporter. Both names appeared there. It was clear now—their deaths weren't coincidence. They were the Court of Owls' handiwork.
And next on that list…
Lex Luthor.
Adrian's lips curved in something that wasn't quite a smile. "Good luck to him," he muttered.
Still, opportunity lay in the hunt. If the Court sent assassins after Lex, Adrian could trail them back to their source. Perhaps even uncover the Court's hidden lair.
He stood, offered Chloe a brief nod. "Thanks." Then he left the makeshift newsroom behind.
---
By afternoon, Adrian was back at the Kent farm. The familiar creak of the screen door and the smell of hay grounded the place in a comfort he rarely admitted aloud. He opened the refrigerator, pulling out leftover soup and pizza, when the sound of footsteps caught his ear.
He closed the fridge slowly. "Clark isn't home."
Turning, he found Lana Lang at the doorway.
"I'm not here for Clark," Lana said cautiously, her hands clasped in front of her. "I'm here for you, Adrian."
His brow furrowed. "Me? I don't think we share much in common. Truth be told, I have more in common with your Aunt Niel." His tone was sharp, almost dismissive.
Lana exhaled, steadying herself. "I came to apologize. I shouldn't have shown your manuscript to Niel without your permission. If that upset you, I'm sorry."
Though her words were humble, her expression carried a trace of hurt. Adrian's coldness baffled her. She had thought his writing, his sketches, hinted at something deeper. She had believed they shared a silent understanding.
But here, he stood distant as ever.
"It doesn't matter," Adrian said, shaking his head. "If I cared, you wouldn't have gotten it in the first place. No need for apologies. Is that all?"
Her lips pressed together. She hesitated, then pushed forward. "No. I wanted to talk about your work. About Cthulhu. There are things I don't understand." Her eyes lit with genuine curiosity. "You write about false peace hiding cruel truths. But then you say not to shatter that peace. Why? And in Whispers in the Dark, that man who went mad in Gotham—who was he really?"
As soon as she spoke of his writing, her voice warmed, eager.
But Adrian's expression didn't change. "Some things have no answers. And even if they did, there's no reason to chase them." His voice was indifferent, final.
The spark in Lana's eyes dimmed. She nodded faintly, words withering on her lips.
"I understand," she murmured. After a beat of silence, she turned toward the door. "Aunt Niel asked me to help with the stables, so I should go. Will you be at the party tonight?"
Adrian's eyes narrowed. "What party?"
"Clark didn't tell you? He's hosting a small gathering. Just a few of us." She shifted uneasily, sensing his mood. "Chloe, Pete… me. And Lex."
Adrian's gaze snapped to her, the temperature in the room dropping instantly. His jaw tightened, and his eyes burned with dangerous light.
Invite a wolf into our home? Clark, what are you thinking?
Lana caught the storm in his expression and quickly excused herself. "I have to go. Bye."
She hurried out, leaving Adrian standing rigid in the kitchen, his displeasure plain.
Minutes later, Clark walked through the door, smiling. "Hey, Adrian. I saw Lana on her way out. Did she come by for something?"
"You can ask her," Adrian replied, voice sharp. Then his gaze pinned Clark. "Clark, you're hosting a party here tonight?"
Clark hesitated, caught off guard by the sudden edge in his brother's tone. "It's just a small gathering," he explained. "Chloe, Pete, Lana… and Lex."
The last name hung heavy in the air.
Adrian's eyes darkened, his expression turning cold and dangerous. His voice was low, but it carried weight like thunder before a storm.
"You're bringing Lex Luthor into this house?"
The implication was clear. Wolves were at the door—and Adrian would not forgive such carelessness.
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Milestone
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