Marcus Hanlon had always loathed the Company.
Every ti they sent soone to negotiate, he shut them down without hesitation. The only reason he’d ever tolerated Evan Clarke was because they were both tied to one of the Eight Great Techniques.
So when Marcus suddenly agreed to surrender, Evan knew sothing huge had changed.
There was only one explanation that made sense.
Rowan rcer had gotten to him first.
"Alright," Evan said, clapping a hand on Marcus’s shoulder. "Whatever your conditions are, just say the word."
He flicked a glance toward Victor Ball, who imdiately pulled out his phone and contacted Iris to relay the situation to headquarters.
No one wanted a violent solution.
Marcus and his inner circle were powerful. More importantly, Marcus himself was exactly the kind of asset the Company desperately needed. A man who could mass-produce mystic tools could tilt the balance of power across the entire covert world.
And technically, Marcus hadn’t broken any laws.
That was why contractors had been sent instead of strike teams.
"I have two conditions," Marcus said quietly.
"First. Chloe Dunn is under my protection. What happened that night wasn’t her fault. I will explain everything. But you are not to harm her."
Evan nodded without hesitation.
"Second," Marcus continued, voice tightening, "Quinn Thorne is the one who pushed into building the Refinent Furnace. She has a powerful network and plans to tear down the current order. My family is in her hands. I need the Company’s help to get them back."
Silence fell.
Evan exhaled slowly.
"That’s it?"
Marcus nodded.
Victor Ball checked his phone.
Iris had already replied.
He gave Evan a firm nod.
Evan smiled faintly. "The Company accepts."
Then his expression sharpened.
"Now tell us everything. Start with how Quinn Thorne took your family."
Marcus didn’t hold anything back.
The truth was transmitted straight to the board.
Within the hour, an ergency session was convened.
And by nightfall, strike teams were mobilizing toward Thorne Group’s corporate tower.
High above the city skyline, Rowan rcer appeared in a flicker of distorted air.
He hovered briefly outside the top floor of Thorne Group headquarters, then drifted down toward the glass façade.
Inside, Quinn Thorne stood by the window with a glass of red wine in her hand.
"The Company has surrounded Biyou Village," she said coldly. "Take a team and retrieve Marcus. If he’s in custody, eliminate the convoy and bring him back."
Several heavily ard mystics turned to leave.
Then Quinn froze.
Because soone was standing outside the window.
A heartbeat later, he stepped straight through the glass.
"Rowan rcer," she said quietly, eyes narrowing. "So it really is you."
Her people rushed forward to shield her.
"Leave," Quinn said calmly. "If he wants dead, none of you can stop him."
They hesitated, then obeyed.
Quinn smoothed her hair and smiled faintly.
"To what do I owe the honor?"
Rowan t her gaze.
"I like direct people. I’m here for one thing. Your Dual Ascension technique."
He paused.
"This is a trade. Na your price."
Quinn studied him for several seconds, then poured him a glass of wine.
"Your reputation does you justice," she said lightly. "Powerful and principled. I’m happy to give you what you want."
She set the glass in front of him.
"I just need ti to think of a suitable condition."
Rowan waved a hand.
The wine turned into green tea.
"I don’t drink," he said. "Tea’s better."
Quinn’s smile deepened.
She began probing him with idle conversation, trying to uncover his origins, his motives, anything she could weaponize later.
Rowan gave her nothing.
Then her phone buzzed.
She glanced down.
And went pale.
"Marcus Hanlon defected," the voice on the other end whispered.
"You’re exposed. The Company is moving on you. They’re almost there."
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