Thunder howled endlessly, as if the sky itself was calling out in rage. It never stopped pounding the earth. Rain poured down in thick sheets, slamming against the tall windows of White Manor like war drums.
Yet even that chaos could not compare to the tension inside the drawing room.
The room was silent, but no one’s mind was. Thoughts collided violently, emotions stretched tight, ready to explode at the slightest push.
"How?! How did you fail to protect him?!" Adrian’s voice tore through the room, louder than the thunder outside.
"We didn’t even leave you for a day, for goddamn sake, Edmund!"
He slamd both hands onto the table, the sound sharp and vicious. His eyes burned as he glared at Edmund with hatred.
The Leopard sat motionless, head lowered, staring at the floor as if it held answers no one else could see.
"EDMUND!"
Adrian scread his na just as lightning flashed, illuminating the room in stark white. Still, Edmund did not respond.
"Adrian, calm down," Silas said, grabbing his arm and trying to pull him back toward the couch.
Adrian yanked his hand away. "How can I calm? How? We just got him back, and now he’s gone again!"
"We can take him back again," Silas tried, his voice uncertain.
"NO!" Adrian stood abruptly and kicked the table with full force.
The glass shattered instantly, collapsing onto the floor in a storm of fragnts. Adrian ran a hand through his silver hair, breathing hard, eyes wild with fury.
"We need to get him back right now. We need to move now. Attack Dominus. Destroy them completely."
Silas did not answer. Neither did Edmund.
He stood frozen, shock weighing heavily in his chest. His mind replayed the morning like a cruel joke.
Lucien in his arms. The warmth of his body. The way he brushed his hair aside and listened to him complain sleepily. Helping him dress. Smiling at him.
And now he was gone.
How could this be real?
How could he believe this nightmare, especially when the one responsible for keeping Lucien safe was the Gilded Leopard himself?
That man was always precise. Always calculating. Always ten steps ahead of everyone else.
But when Silas looked at him now, he saw nothing but ruin.
Dark circles carved deep beneath Edmund’s eyes. His golden hair, once perfectly slicked back, hung loose and disordered.
His shoulders slumped, posture broken, as if sothing vital had been ripped out of him.
Pathetic.
The thought ca unbidden, sharp and uncomfortable.
Silas felt sothing cold settle in his chest as doubt crept in. Had he been loyal to the wrong man all this ti?
Would Lucien have been safer under Crimson Diablo instead?
The thunder roared again, rattling the windows, as if the world itself was asking the sa question.
But Edmund’s deep green eyes slowly lifted to Silas. The gaze was sharp and relentless, as if he had already found his footing again. It was the look of a man who had finished grieving and begun calculating.
Silas stiffened under that stare, feeling exposed, as if Edmund had already read the doubt forming in his mind.
"The only way to get him back is to face Dominus head-on," Edmund said calmly. "But while I was watching them, I found sothing interesting."
His voice was lower than usual, controlled and steady. He brushed his hair back, leaned into the sofa, and crossed his legs with ease.
The shift was subtle, but everyone in the room understood the aning behind it. The Leopard had returned.
"We underestimated Diablo," Edmund continued.
"He is not just the leader of Dominus. He carries another na, one that is very well known in the Blackshore."
He gestured toward the butler, who bowed and moved at once.
The staff quietly cleared the shattered glass table and replaced it with a new one as if the destruction had never happened.
The butler returned with a tray holding whiskey, crystal glasses, and a thick docunt, setting everything down carefully before stepping back.
Silas glanced at Adrian. His jaw was tight, his expression openly hostile. He clearly wanted none of this talk and even less patience.
He was a man built for action, not discussion. Still, he finally sat down, grabbed the glass once it was poured, and drank it in one harsh gulp before slamming it back onto the table.
Adrian snapped. "No riddles. Get to the point, Leopard."
Edmund opened the docunt. Photographs spilled across the pages, faces and locations marked with precise annotations.
"This intel arrived this afternoon," Edmund said evenly. "Now we know exactly who we are dealing with. He is the Red Admiral. The man who helped Mister D take his current position."
The Twinster stiffened.
"The one who defeated the Gold?" Silas asked quietly.
The Gold. Ten generations ruled Blackshore under that na. The last of them had fallen, and the new leadership erased the title entirely.
Adrian’s fingers curled slowly against his knee. The Gold was the man who had saved them once.
A con artist who had smiled warmly as he dragged them into Ouroboros and chained them with debt disguised as salvation.
Silas let out a hollow chuckle. "So he hid behind Dominus all this ti and fooled us all. That is almost impressive."
"Then what do we do?" Adrian asked. His voice dropped, heavy with reality. "We cannot go to war with Blackshore."
"He is not part of Auriete," Edmund replied. "If we eliminate him, Blackshore will not intervene."
Silas leaned back, eyes narrowing. "Unless Mister D owes him sothing. If that happens, Diablo might call in that debt."
Before Edmund could respond, the door swung open.
The sharp tap of a cane struck the floor, followed by heavy boots. Three figures entered the room. One of them radiated pure rage, his presence swallowing the space as if the air itself recoiled.
"What are you all so afraid of?" The Basilisk’s voice thundered through the room.
"If we have to destroy Blackshore, then we will destroy it. I will burn this country to the ground if necessary."
His eyes burned with fury as he scanned them all.
"I want my grandson back," he roared. "And if any of you fail him again, I will destroy Lunox and Dominus together and drag every last one of you to hell with ."
No one spoke.
No one dared.
There was no calming the Basilisk when he reached this state. His wrath and determination eclipsed even Crimson Diablo’s obsession.
At that mont, they all understood the truth.
The war had already begun.
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