Jake lifted the spyglass, its brass edges cold against his fingers as he focused on Warehouse Seven. Below them, the docks churned with life.
"So that's where he is?" Shawn asked.
The streets beneath were a living artery—shouts rising over the rush of waves, gulls screaming overhead as ships groaned against their moorings. Lycanthropes walked across the planks with crates balanced on their shoulders, humans called out orders as they hauled coiled ropes, and dwarven crews barked back in thick accents as they rolled barrels down wooden ramps. Salt, tar, wet rope, and fish mingled in the air.
They were in Lilith Sector, District Van.
"Yup," Jake said as he collapsed the spyglass and put it into his coat.
"So when do I get to collapse the damn thing?" Shawn muttered, tossing the bag of Flare Dust up and down like it was a toy.
Audrey watched Shawn carefully, her bronze eye tracking the bag that contained the high explosive dust.
Jake didn't look away from the docks. "Put that down," he warned.
Shawn rolled his eyes but obeyed, dropping the bag onto the table with exaggerated care.
"If you like being blown up, I suggest Thalia," Jake quipped, Shawn flinching, remembering the power behind those flames when they briefly fought.
Audrey chuckled.
Nearby, Dan sat hunched over a scrap of parchment, massive fingers absurdly delicate as he sketched something—tiny, detailed, and probably important, though no one ever dared ask.
He glanced up just long enough to acknowledge the noise, then returned to scratching lines with surprising precision.
Audrey leaned back, closed her one good eye, breathed in the sea wind—then opened it again.
"The ship is two hours out," she said. "Slaves on board." Her voice was low and dangerous as she saw through Vantim's eyes for a brief moment.
Jake turned back to the window. The docks stretched wide before them—wooden piers crowded with merchant vessels and river cutters. Sailcloth snapped in the wind, rigging clattered, and crews shouted to one another as ships jostled for space. Somewhere, a crier was yelling out fresh arrivals; somewhere else, a brawl was breaking out over someone dropping a crate.
Jake nodded as he took a seat on a crate. His tail lashed as he took out his own piece of paper.
"Two hours," he murmured, adding notes he had seen from the docks.
"Vantim not been spotted yet?" Jake asked as he finished writing, sliding the paper into one of his many pockets.
"He's a Horus Hawk; they rarely do. Even out at sea." Audrey glared, and Jake chuckled.
He looked back out the window, his golden eyes shifting with thought. This would be the first time he would actually work with the law, yet he needed to be unseen as well, a shadow in the chaos that would soon erupt.
~~~~~
Thalia watched her niece from across the mustering grounds, studying her with a tactician's eye. Elena looked… happy. Suspiciously happy. Too happy for someone who had just returned from the Baltim sector, where she and Jake had been in the old building for over an hour. Alone.
Elena stood beside the assembled force—a blend of guards and mercenaries tightening straps, checking blades, giving their captains terse nods. Leo lingered at her flank, silent and watchful, a sentry carved out of stone.
Elena rested her hand on the pommel of Thimil. Elena noticed Thalia's glances and walked to her, Leo close behind.
"So you're truly joining?" Thalia asked, narrowing her eyes. Elena looked nothing like the polished noble she usually paraded as. The softness was gone. What remained was sharp—focused—a young predator dressed in steel.
Thalia's military gaze swept over her, noting every detail.
The armor suited her far too well.
A fitted breastplate hugged her torso in clean, utilitarian lines. Sleek pauldrons curved along her shoulders like hard-edged wings. Polished bracers wrapped her forearms, and reinforced boots grounded her stance. The deep wine-red tunic under the metal softened nothing; it only made Elena look more like a banner ready to lead charges.
Thimil rested at her hip—slim, elegant, deceptively delicate. A rapier that didn't belong on a battlefield… except it looked perfectly at home on her.
"She is a fox more than a noble," Thalia murmured to herself, taking in the sight of her niece fully armed, not as a noble, but as a fighter.
Elena only smiled, steady and unshaken. "Of course I am."
Leo stood just behind her, posture subtly protective, as though preparing to shield her from whatever the coming hours would bring.
Thalia exhaled, long and slow. "Well… if anything happens, you have Leo, Jake, and me." Her voice softened despite her best efforts. She had only seen a handful of Elena's training sessions—long ago—but she remembered the way the girl had held her own against seasoned guards Thalia herself respected.
Elena nodded, "Yup, I will be safe." Elena sounded cheerful, as if she were excited to fight. Thalia's eyes narrowed, wondering what Jake and Elena had gone through in the ten years of secret friendship and adventures.
Her thoughts were interrupted as a captain approached, his stride smooth and disciplined—someone who had spent years learning how to move in armor without letting it weigh him down.
Thalia recognized him immediately and smiled. "Captain Korbin. Good to see you in armor once more." She raised her hand, and Korbin clasped forearms with her.
Korbin chuckled. "Not sure if I should be excited or terrified seeing you in your battle robes again." Humor on the surface—awareness beneath it.
Thalia scoffed. "Helver was years ago."
Korbin shook his head lightly, releasing his grip as his posture shifted back into rigid military composure. "Years ago… and now nothing but ash."
"So you're a guard captain now?" Thalia asked, her gaze drifting over the armor he wore—standard for Altor's elite, but worn with a veteran's comfort: a dark green helmet with a vented visor hiding most of his expression; pauldrons resting atop reinforced leather; a layered steel chest piece over scale mail that shimmered like a dull emerald; the Altor insignia etched into his bracers, edges worn from use. A hooked short sword hung at his hip, the leather grip softened from years of service. He looked like a man built for the front lines—armored not to intimidate, but to endure.
Korbin smiled faintly as he answered, "Thought I'd move closer. Needed to be near family." The spark in his eyes was unmistakably fond.
Thalia nodded. "Well, Korbin, this is my niece, Elena." She gestured toward her.
Korbin straightened instantly. His left hand curled into a fist and struck the center of his breastplate in a fluid motion—the Glatith salute.
"An honor, Lady Elena," he said, his voice firm beneath the helmet.
Despite the steel in his voice, there was respect—genuine and old-world.
"Thank you, Captain," Elena replied, polite and composed.
"So, Forrest Young will be in the warehouse?" Korbin asked as he looked in the direction of the docks.
"We will go when the signal goes off," Thalia said, crossing her arms, her amber eyes following his gaze.
"What's the signal and who's setting it off?" Korbin asked, looking at Thalia.
Thalia opened her mouth as she was about to say his name, but she felt the pact tighten around her heart. It wasn't painful, no, but it was a warning, "A shadow," she said, feeling the pact loosen.
Korbin nodded, not questioning his former commander. He opened his mouth—BOOM—smoke rose from the docks.
Thalia grinned, sharp and fierce.
"That's our signal."