The silence in the cellar was heavy, tasting of ozone and old dust. The single spotlight from Arthur's flashlight cut through the dark like a blade, pinning Ren and Jace against the cold stone wall.
Arthur didn't look like a father. He looked like a statue—cold, immovable, and holding a piece of cold steel that pointed directly at Jace's heart.
"Step away from him, Ren," Arthur said, his voice as smooth as silk and twice as deadly. "You've had your little tantrum. You've played the hero. Now, come back upstairs and we can pretend this... unpleasantness never happened."
Ren didn't move. He felt Jace's hand tighten on his shoulder—a warning, a plea to run. But Ren's feet were rooted.
"Or what?" Ren's voice didn't shake. "You'll shoot the boy who taught me how to actually feel the music? You'll kill the only person who sees me as something other than a paycheck?"
Arthur's finger tightened on the trigger. "He is a distraction, Ren. A common thief who stole my greatest investment. If I have to remove the distraction to save the masterpiece, I will."
"I'm not a masterpiece!" Ren roared, the sound echoing off the low ceiling. "I'm a person! And if you shoot him, you'll have to shoot me too. Because I'm never playing another note for you. Not one."
Arthur's eyes turned into chips of ice. "Don't test me, boy. You know I don't lose."
Jace felt the air shift. He knew men like Arthur—men who thought the world was a chessboard and people were just wooden pieces. He knew that Arthur wasn't bluffing.
Ting.
Jace's fingers found the silver spoon in Ren's pocket. He didn't pull it out. He just tapped it against the heavy brass key ring Ren was still clutching.
Ting-ting. Ting.
It was the "Red X" code. Wait for the beat.
"Ren," Jace whispered, leaning close to his ear, his breath hot against the cold. "When I say 'Now,' drop to the floor. Don't think. Just drop."
"Jace, no—"
"Now!" Jace screamed.
Jace didn't run. He lunged. Not at Arthur, but at the heavy iron music stand that sat in the corner of the rehearsal cellar. He kicked it with everything he had, sending the heavy metal crashing toward the spotlight.
CRACK.
The gunshot exploded in the small space, the sound deafening, followed immediately by the sound of shattering glass as the spotlight was crushed under the music stand.
Absolute darkness swallowed the cellar again.
"Ren! Run for the stairs!" Jace's voice came from the left, followed by the sound of a heavy struggle—the grunt of a man being tackled, the clatter of a gun hitting the floor.
Ren scrambled in the dark, his hands hitting the cold stone, his heart feeling like it was going to burst out of his ribs. He found the stairs, but he stopped.
"Jace! I'm not leaving you!"
"GO!" Jace's voice was strained, followed by a sickening thud. "He has guards coming! Get to the gate! I'll be right behind you!"
Ren felt a hand grab his ankle in the dark—Arthur's hand.
"You... are... mine!" his father hissed, his voice twisted with a madness Ren had never seen.
Ren didn't think. He took the heavy brass key ring and slammed it down on the hand gripping him. He heard a satisfying crunch and a howl of pain as Arthur let go.
Ren sprinted up the stairs, his lungs screaming, his vision blurring. He burst through the cellar door into the main hall, just as the first flashlights of the security team began to sweep the mansion.
He didn't see Jace.
He reached the front doors, the cold rain hitting his face like a slap. He looked back at the dark, silent mansion.
"Jace?" he whispered into the wind.
A shadow emerged from the side of the house, limping, clutching his side, but still moving. It was Jace. He was holding something in his hand—the revolver. He hadn't just escaped; he had disarmed the monster.
"Told you," Jace wheezed, a bloody grin breaking across his face in the moonlight. "I'm a better drummer than him. I always keep the beat."
They reached the gate, the "Red X" passport clutched in Ren's hand. But as they stepped onto the street, a black sedan pulled up, the headlights blinding them.
The window rolled down. It wasn't Arthur.
It was Klaus. And he wasn't alone.
"Get in," Klaus said, his voice urgent. "Your father just put a five-million-euro bounty on both your heads. Every hunter in Berlin is waking up right now."