The air in the "Underground" lodge was thick with the scent of ozone and rebellion.
Ren stood over the tactical map Klaus had spread across a rusted metal table. He didn't look like the boy who had played Mozart for the elite of Europe. His new black hair was damp with sweat, and the two black lines of war paint across his cheekbones made him look like a phantom risen from the trenches.
Beside him, Jace was propped up against a crate, his face pale but his eyes burning with a terrifying, protective fire. Every time Arthur's face flashed on the silent TV screen in the corner—holding Jace's little sister like a trophy—Jace's hand would twitch toward the revolver in his waistband.
"The Laurent Estate isn't a house," Klaus said, pointing a scarred finger at the blueprints. "It's a fortress. Pressure-sensitive floors in the gallery, thermal cameras in the gardens, and a private security team that answers only to Arthur's bank account. You don't walk into this place. You vanish into it."
"He has Mia in the solarium," Jace rasped, his voice cutting through the tension. "It's the only room with reinforced glass and a separate alarm grid. He's using her as a human shield because he knows I won't blow the place up if she's inside."
Ren looked at the map. He knew every inch of those halls. He knew where the floorboards creaked in the West Wing and where the cameras had a three-second blind spot when they rotated.
"We don't need to blow it up," Ren said, his voice cold and rhythmic, like a metronome. "We just need to change the frequency."
He turned to the girl with the cello—Sophie—and the rest of the Rebel Symphony. They were cleaning their gear, but they weren't checking guns. They were checking amplifiers.
"Sophie," Ren said. "Can your crew tap into the estate's external PA system? The one Arthur uses to play 'classical' music for the garden parties?"
Sophie smirked, a jagged scar on her lip twitching. "We can do better than tap into it. We can override the whole grid. Give us ten minutes with the junction box, and we can make those speakers scream."
"Good," Ren said. He looked at Klaus. "I need a distraction that pulls the guards to the front gate. Something loud. Something that sounds like a riot."
"And what are you doing while the world is ending at the front gate?" Klaus asked.
Ren's fingers danced across the table, ghost-playing a frantic, violent melody. "I'm going through the cellar. The same way I came out. I'm going to find Arthur. And I'm going to show him that his 'masterpiece' finally learned how to play a crescendo."
Three hours later, the Rebel Symphony moved through the woods like shadows.
Ren crouched in the tall grass just outside the perimeter fence of the Laurent Estate. In the distance, the massive stone mansion loomed like a monster, every window glowing with a deceptive, golden warmth. Somewhere in there, a seven-year-old girl was crying for her brother.
"In position," Sophie's voice crackled through the burner earbud.
"Jace?" Ren whispered into his mic.
"I'm at the South wall," Jace replied, his voice strained but steady. "Ready to hit the lights on your signal. Ren... if this goes south..."
"It won't," Ren interrupted. "Keep the beat, Jace."
Ren took a deep breath and pressed the trigger on the remote jammer Klaus had given him.
SILENCE.
For five seconds, the world held its breath. Then, every single speaker on the Laurent Estate—hundreds of high-end outdoor monitors—erupted at maximum volume.
It wasn't Mozart. It wasn't Chopin.
It was a distorted, screaming recording of Ren playing the Revolutionary Etude, layered over a heavy, bone-shaking drum beat that sounded like a heartbeat in a panic attack. It was the sound of the "Ghost of Berlin" screaming through the wires.
The security guards at the front gate scrambled, hands over their ears, as the sheer sonic pressure shattered the windows of the guardhouse. The searchlights swung wildly toward the woods, blinded by the strobe lights Sophie had rigged to the tree line.
"NOW!" Ren yelled.
He sprinted. Not away from the house, but toward the heart of the noise.
He bypassed the sensors, his body moving in perfect sync with the rhythm of the distraction. He reached the cellar bulkhead, threw it open, and dove into the dark.
He was back in the cage. But this time, he had the key.
He moved through the servant's corridors, the revolver heavy against his spine. He reached the grand staircase just as the internal alarms began to howl in a discordant harmony with the music outside.
"REN!"
The voice boomed from the top of the stairs.
Arthur Laurent stood there, bathed in the red glow of the emergency lights. He wasn't wearing a tuxedo anymore. He was wearing a silk robe, his face twisted in a mask of pure, unadulterated rage. He looked down at the boy with the black hair and the war paint, and for the first time, Arthur Laurent looked afraid.
"Look what you've done!" Arthur screamed over the music. "You've ruined everything! The brand, the legacy—you're nothing but a common thug!"
"I'm not a thug, Father," Ren said, stepping into the red light, his eyes fixed on the man who had broken him. "I'm the encore you didn't see coming."
Ren raised his hand—not with a gun, but with a small, silver remote.
"TheSolarium door is mag-locked, Arthur. And I just gave Jace the override code. While you've been standing here screaming at me, the 'kidnapper' just walked out the back door with his sister."
Arthur's face went white. He lunged for the intercom. "Security! To the solarium! Kill them! Kill them both!"
"They can't hear you, Arthur," Ren said, taking a final step up the stairs until he was inches from his father's face. "The music is too loud."
A muffled explosion rocked the floorboards. Smoke began to curl up from the vents.
"What did you do?" Arthur choked out, clutching his chest.
"I didn't do it," Ren whispered. "The Rebel Symphony did. They didn't just come for Mia, Arthur. They came to burn the stage down."
From the hallway behind Arthur, a shadow emerged through the smoke. It was Jace, carrying a sleeping Mia in his arms, his side soaked in fresh blood, but his eyes victorious.
But behind Jace, a second shadow appeared—a guard Ren hadn't accounted for, leveling a shotgun at Jace's back.
"JACE! LOOK OUT!" Ren screamed, lunging forward.