Marcus Delaney's hands would not stop shaking.
He tried hiding it by gripping the rifle tighter, but the tremor still crept through his fingers like a nervous current running through his bones.
This wasn't how the mission was supposed to go.
It was meant to be simple.
Quick.
Professional.
Get in.
Grab the treasure.
Plant the explosives.
Bring the whole castle down and leave nothing behind but rubble and a pile of dead aristocrat children.
Cassius had said it would be clean.
Now Marcus stood in the courtyard under a sky that wouldn't stop exploding.
Fireworks continued launching automatically from the far side of the castle grounds. Bright streaks of light screamed upward into the darkness before bursting into showers of gold, crimson, and violet.
Each explosion rattled the air.
Each flash illuminated the courtyard for a split second like lightning.
And every burst of color made Marcus flinch.
His eyes darted across the courtyard again.
The other mercenaries had rounded up the pyrotechnicians and were holding them at gunpoint. The technicians stood frozen near their equipment racks, hands raised, faces pale with confusion and fear.
None of them understood what was happening.
Hell, Marcus barely understood it either.
His gaze shifted toward Cassius.
The veteran hunter stood near the center of the courtyard, staring toward the castle with a rigid posture. His brown leather coat moved slightly in the night wind, the tails swaying with each small gust.
Several of the men had gathered around him.
They were talking.
Questioning.
Arguing quietly.
Cassius said nothing.
His eyes remained fixed somewhere far away as if he were replaying the entire operation inside his head.
Marcus swallowed.
Seeing Cassius like that did not inspire confidence.
Normally the man had an answer for everything.
A backup plan for every situation.
But right now he looked… agitated.
Lost in thought.
And that scared Marcus more than the mage had.
Another firework exploded overhead.
Marcus flinched again.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
Then something flickered in the corner of his eye.
Movement.
Above the castle.
Marcus looked up.
High atop the castle roof stood the hooded figure.
She was a small silhouette against the night sky, her dark cloak rippling gently in the wind as fireworks painted brief flashes of color across the clouds behind her.
For a moment Marcus just stared.
How the hell did she get up there?
They had fought her in the underground vault.
There hadn't been any other exits.
Yet somehow she now stood on the highest point of the castle like she had always been there.
The woman raised her staff slowly.
"Children shouldn't have to witness the scuffles of adults," her voice carried faintly across the wind.
Marcus blinked.
The staff suddenly lifted from her hand.
It hovered in the air beside her.
Not falling.
Not supported by anything.
Just floating.
A low humming vibration rolled through the night air.
Then the woman raised both hands.
And began to weave.
Her fingers moved through the air like blades slicing through invisible silk. Each motion left something behind.
Runes.
Symbols burned into existence wherever her hands passed.
They glowed with deep cerulean light.
But they weren't simple glowing shapes.
They looked dense.
Heavy.
Like shards of liquid glass suspended in the air.
Marcus felt his stomach tighten.
The woman's voice began to chant.
Low.
Measured.
Ancient.
"Vigilo, parietes huius domus, nexus fieri."
The runes multiplied around her.
More and more of them appearing with each flick of her fingers.
The glowing glyphs began forming a complex lattice around her body.
"Velum silentii inter intus et extra texo."
Her hands moved faster now.
Cutting.
Twisting.
Binding symbols together.
The air around her shimmered with magical energy as the web of runes expanded outward.
Marcus had no idea what the words meant.
But the tone of them felt like law being spoken into existence.
"Quod est foris, oculis eorum intus non pateat."
The lattice thickened.
Layer upon layer of glowing glyphs forming a structure that hung in the air like a massive geometric web.
"Et quod intus geritur, mundum fallat."
The woman suddenly grabbed the glowing runes with both hands.
Physically.
As if they were solid objects.
She forced them together and shoved the entire construct into the wooden shaft of her floating staff.
The staff ignited with blue light from within.
Then she seized it.
Lifted it high.
"Signo et sigillo, hoc claustrum firmo."
She slammed the staff into the roof.
The impact thundered.
A shockwave burst outward from the contact point.
Not sound.
Energy.
A massive translucent ripple surged outward from the roof of the castle.
Marcus staggered back instinctively as the wave rolled past the courtyard.
From above it looked like a waterfall made of shimmering glass pouring down the sides of the castle.
The entire structure became wrapped in a faint translucent veil.
Then it vanished.
Not physically.
The castle still stood there.
But the shimmering barrier faded until it became invisible to the naked eye.
The night returned to normal.
Fireworks still exploded overhead.
But something felt different.
Quieter.
Like the world had just been wrapped inside a sealed bubble.
On the roof, the hooded figure stood alone in the wind.
The staff planted firmly into the stone.
She remained perfectly still.
At the center of the silence she had just created.
Marcus' throat went dry.
"What… the fuck is even that…"
His voice barely came out as a whisper.
If she had been down in the vault a few minutes ago…
How was she already up there?
How powerful was that witch?
Panic crept into Marcus' chest.
Then the memory of the howl returned.
His stomach twisted again.
Years ago he had hunted werewolves.
Back before the Coexistence Act had shut the entire operation down.
Back when people like Cassius made a living tracking beasts through forests and blowing them to bits before they could kill civilians.
Marcus remembered those hunts.
The screams.
The blood.
The men they had lost.
And that had been when the hunters were prepared.
Tonight?
Tonight they had walked blindly into something else entirely.
Marcus swallowed again.
His eyes drifted back toward Cassius.
Finally the older man moved.
Cassius turned slowly toward the group.
"Change of plans," he said.
Every mercenary looked up immediately.
"We scatter the explosives."
A few men exchanged uneasy glances.
Cassius continued.
"The more we spread out, the harder it'll be for that witch to stop us all."
His eyes hardened.
"And stay alert."
Marcus felt his stomach drop when Cassius added the next words.
"There's a werewolf on the loose."
Silence fell across the courtyard.
"A newborn."
Marcus' pulse quickened.
Cassius pointed toward several of the mercenaries.
"You. You. You. And you."
Then his finger landed on Marcus.
"And you."
Marcus stiffened.
"You five are coming with me," Cassius said.
"We're infiltrating the castle."
Marcus' mouth went dry.
Cassius continued calmly.
"Find the twins."
He tapped the side of his head.
"You've all seen their photos."
The Thorne triplets.
Marcus remembered the briefing.
Young.
Dangerous.
Important.
Cassius looked each of them in the eye.
"If anyone interferes, kill them."
His voice remained calm.
"But don't waste ammo."
Marcus nodded stiffly.
His legs felt like lead as he fell into formation beside Cassius.
The five of them approached the massive castle entrance.
Cassius grabbed the handle.
Pulled.
The door didn't move.
He pulled harder.
Nothing.
One of the men stepped forward and slammed his shoulder into it.
The moment the impact landed, the entire door shimmered faintly blue.
Like hitting an invisible wall.
Another ram.
The blue shimmer flashed again.
Cassius swore under his breath.
"Enchantments," he muttered.
Marcus didn't like the sound of that word.
"What now?" he asked quietly.
Cassius exhaled sharply.
"New priority."
His voice hardened again.
"Set the charges."
He pointed back toward the shoreline.
"Once everything's planted, we come back."
Marcus nodded.
The group turned and ran back toward the boats where the rest of the explosives were stored.
Several mercenaries were already unloading crates from the vessel.
Marcus bent down to grab one of the packs.
Then a voice cut through the night.
"Freeze."
Marcus froze.
The word came from everywhere.
All around them.
The sound of rifles being cocked echoed across the courtyard.
Dozens of them.
Marcus slowly lifted his hands.
The other mercenaries reacted differently.
Two of them spun with their rifles raised.
Gunfire erupted instantly.
Short.
Precise bursts.
Both men collapsed before they even finished turning.
Marcus didn't move.
He slowly dropped to his knees.
Hands on his head.
The smart choice.
A second later something slammed into the back of his skull.
Marcus barely saw the strike coming.
One moment he was kneeling with his hands locked over his head, trying not to think about the rifles aimed at him from every direction.
The next moment something hard slammed into the back of his skull.
Stars burst across his vision as the butt of a rifle drove him forward onto the stone. Rough hands seized his arms before he could even groan.
Metal clicked.
Cold cuffs snapped tight around his wrists.
"Stay down."
The voice above him was sharp and controlled.
Marcus obeyed instantly.
His chest pressed against the ground while someone forced him back onto his knees again. A boot nudged his shoulder to keep him steady. Another rifle settled somewhere behind his head, close enough that he could feel the barrel hovering just above his neck.
Around him, the courtyard had erupted into movement.
Armed soldiers moved through the shoreline staging area with quiet precision, sweeping past the boats where Cassius' men had been unloading explosives only moments earlier.
The two mercenaries who had tried turning with their weapons lay motionless on the gravel, blood pooling around them.
Others were now kneeling just like Marcus, restrained and guarded.
Marcus kept his eyes down.
He didn't want to see the men who had just dismantled their entire operation in seconds.
Boots approached.
Heavy.
Measured.
They stopped a few steps away from Marcus.
Meanwhile, the man who had struck Marcus stepped forward from the edge of the formation.
He moved with the steady confidence of someone who had led teams like this many times before.
His build was powerful and athletic, broad shoulders tapering down into a lean, disciplined frame built for speed and endurance rather than sheer bulk. Dark tactical armor hugged his torso in layered plates that looked far more advanced than standard military gear.
The combat suit was matte black with faint metallic seams running along the joints and musculature like reinforced tendons. Embedded panels traced the shoulders and chest, designed to absorb impact while allowing full mobility.
Across the left side of the chest, a silver insignia stood out sharply against the dark material.
FSS.
His gloves were reinforced with composite plating across the knuckles. A sidearm rested securely at his hip while a rifle hung ready across his chest.
The faint glow of fireworks overhead lit his face in flashes of gold and white.
Dark skin.
A strong jaw framed by a short, carefully kept beard.
Sharp eyes that moved constantly, analyzing the scene in front of him.
A soldier approached quickly and stopped beside him.
"South port secured," the soldier reported.
The commander nodded once.
"Casualties?"
"Two hostiles down."
His gaze moved briefly toward the bodies.
"Prisoners?"
"Four detained so far."
Another soldier spoke up from near the boats.
"They had explosives loaded on the vessels. Looks like they were preparing to scatter charges."
The commander studied the crates stacked near the dock.
"Any sign of the leader?"
"Negative."
"Total hostiles?"
The soldier hesitated slightly.
"Unknown. We intercepted part of the group here, but we don't know how many already moved inside the island."
The commander's eyes lifted briefly toward the distant castle rising above the treeline.
Fireworks continued bursting overhead, masking the chaos unfolding below.
Another voice called out from the courtyard.
"Sir. The technicians."
The commander looked toward the group of frightened pyrotechnicians still kneeling near their equipment racks under guard.
"They were being held at gunpoint when we intercepted," the soldier explained.
The commander gave a short nod.
"Keep them secured for now."
His eyes moved across the shoreline again.
Captured mercenaries.
Dead gunmen.
Explosives crates.
The boats rocking gently against the dock.
The operation was far from finished.
But the trap had worked.
One of the soldiers turned toward him again.
"Orders?"
The commander finally shifted his attention back toward the castle looming beyond the walls.
Then he spoke.
"Hold the perimeter."
His voice carried calm authority.
"We secure the prisoners and wait for the rest of Cassius' men to show themselves. Then we locate Cassius Vane, its kill on sight."
The soldiers moved instantly to execute the command.
Someone behind him spoke quietly.
"Understood..." The name followed a second later. "Commander Greene."
This was indeed Austin Greene.
Adam's father.