The American Hunter Association building was a fortress of glass and steel.
Mira stepped through the main entrance, Renan at her side, their footsteps echoing across the polished marble floor. Hunters in tactical gear moved past them, some glancing her way with recognition, others too focused on their own missions to care.
She didn't acknowledge any of them.
Her hand rested on the pendant beneath her coat... the one Lucien had made for her. The silver lion felt warm against her skin, a constant reminder of the man she'd thought she'd lost.
"Mira," Renan said quietly. "Are you ready?"
She didn't answer.
An agent approached... young and nervous, his uniform crisp but his hands fidgeting with a tablet. "Miss de Beaumont? Mr. Ashford is expecting you. If you'll follow me..."
"Where is he?" Mira's voice was calm but edged with steel.
The agent blinked. "Mr. Ashford is..."
"Not Ashford," she interrupted. "Lucien de Mireval. Where is he?"
The agent hesitated, glancing at Renan, then back to Mira. "He's... in one of the secured rooms. Third floor. But Mr. Ashford requested that..."
Mira was already walking toward the elevator.
Renan followed, giving the agent an apologetic shrug. "She's not really the 'wait and see' type."
The agent hurried after them. "Wait! You can't just..."
The elevator doors closed.
The third floor was quieter.
Fewer people. Reinforced doors. Security cameras tracking their every move.
Mira didn't care.
She walked down the corridor until she reached the room the agent had stammered about. Two guards stood outside, their expressions neutral but their hands resting on their weapons.
"Miss de Beaumont," one of them said. "You'll need clearance to..."
Mira pulled out her Hunter ID and held it up without breaking stride. "S-Class. Blades of Lyon. Open the door."
The guards exchanged glances. One of them muttered something into his earpiece, then nodded reluctantly.
The door unlocked with a soft click.
Mira pushed it open.
And stopped.
Lucien stood near the far wall, his back to her, hands resting on the table. He wore simple clothes... dark pants, a plain shirt... nothing like the bloodied, battered figure she'd last seen disappearing into the rift at the Dome.
But it was him.
Alive, real.
Her breath caught.
Lucien turned slowly, as if sensing her presence.
Their eyes met.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. Neither spoke.
Mira's hand tightened around the pendant, her heart pounding so loud she could hear it in her ears.
Lucien's expression was unreadable... tired, haunted, but steady. His gaze didn't waver.
"Mira," he said quietly.
The sound of her name, in his voice, after weeks of silence... it hit her like a physical blow.
She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came.
Behind her, Renan stepped into the room, his eyes sweeping the space... and landing on the figure seated in the corner.
A werewolf.
White fur. Yellow eyes. Arms crossed, watching them with quiet intensity.
Renan's hand moved instinctively toward his weapon.
"Who the hell is that?" he said sharply.
Mira's gaze snapped to the creature, her body tensing. Her hand dropped to the hilt of her short musket.
Lucien stepped forward, raising one hand. "Wait. It's not what you think."
"Not what I think?" Mira's voice was cold. "That's a monster, Lucien."
"No," Lucien said firmly. "He's human. His name is Osman. He was transformed and... trapped in another world for over a century. But he's still human."
Osman didn't move, but his ears flicked slightly. "I don't expect you to trust me," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "But I'm not your enemy."
Mira's eyes narrowed. "Prove it."
"I can't," Osman replied simply. "Not yet. But Lucien trusts me. And I've kept him alive."
Mira looked between them, her jaw tight. Every instinct screamed at her to act, to eliminate the threat. But Lucien's expressionwas calm, resolute... it gave her pause.
She didn't lower her weapon, but she didn't draw it either.
"We'll see," she said coldly.
Renan stepped closer to her side, his own hand still near his blade. "Mira, if you say the word..."
"Not yet," she said quietly.
Then she turned back to Lucien.
"You disappeared," she said, her voice tight. "Into the rift. I thought..." She stopped, forcing herself to breathe. "I thought you were dead."
"I know," Lucien said. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" Her voice cracked, just slightly. "I'm not blaming you... how could I ? It's just four weeks passed and..." She stopped for a second "you couldn't have come back sooner?"
"I couldn't," Lucien said. "I was trapped. In another world. Old Jerusalem... the real Jerusalem, taken by the Dome over a century ago."
Mira's eyes widened. "What?"
"It's a long story," Lucien said. "But I'll tell you everything. I promise."
Before Mira could respond, the door opened again.
And Marcus Ashford stepped inside.
Mira's entire body went rigid.
Her hand shot to her musket, drawing it in one smooth motion and leveling it at Marcus's chest.
"You," she hissed.
Marcus stopped just inside the doorway, hands raised slightly, his expression calm. "Mira. I know what you're thinking..."
"You murdered my family!" Her voice was a raw, broken scream.
Renan moved between them, his stance defensive. "Mira, wait..."
"Get out of the way, Renan."
"Mira, listen to me..."
"I said move!"
Lucien stepped forward, placing himself directly between Mira and Marcus. "Mira. Stop."
She stared at him, disbelief and fury warring in her eyes. "Why are you protecting him?! He killed my father! My mother! My..." Her voice broke.
"No," Lucien said firmly. "He didn't."
"I saw him!" Mira's hand trembled, but the barrel of her musket didn't waver. "I saw the mark on his arm! I saw him run! I saw..."
"You saw what a child could see," Marcus said quietly. "Not the truth."
Mira's finger tightened on the trigger.
"Mira, please," Lucien said. "Just listen. That's all I'm asking. Listen."
For a long, agonizing moment, no one moved.
Then, slowly, Mira lowered her weapon... just slightly.
"Talk," she said, her voice shaking. "But if I don't like what I hear..."
"You'll have your chance," Marcus said. "I won't stop you."
Lucien exhaled, tension bleeding from his shoulders. "Thank you."
Mira's gaze never left Marcus. "I'm not doing this for you," she said to him. "I'm doing it for Lucien."
Marcus nodded. "That's enough."
He stepped fully into the room and gestured toward the table. "Sit. Please. All of you."
Mira didn't sit. Neither did Renan.
But they listened.
And Marcus began to speak.
"Ten years ago," he said, "I went to your father's home to retrieve something. Something he had been entrusted with by an organization older than any guild, older than the Association itself."
Mira's jaw tightened. "What organization?"
Marcus rolled up his sleeve, revealing the mark burned into his forearm.
The Jerusalem Cross.
Mira's breath stopped.
"This," Marcus said, "is the mark of The Order. An organization founded seven hundred years ago by the last true Templar of Jerusalem. Its mission: to recover the Holy Grail, stolen by those who became monsters."
He lowered his sleeve. "Your father, Thomas de Beaumont, was one of us. And that night... I was there to protect him... to protect what he had."
Mira's voice was barely a whisper. "You're lying."
"I'm not." Marcus met her gaze. "A Shadow Knight came for him. For what he was protecting. And I fought it. But I failed."
Tears streaked down Mira's face, her hand shaking. "You ran. I saw you run."
"I pursued one of its servants," Marcus said. "Someone who tried to steal the key while we were distracted. I had to stop them. I had to make sure your father's sacrifice wasn't in vain."
Mira's legs trembled. She sank into the nearest chair, her musket clattering onto the table.
"I don't..." Her voice broke. "I don't know what to believe anymore."
Lucien knelt beside her, his voice gentle. "Believe this: your father died protecting something sacred. And the people who killed him... they're still out there. But Marcus didn't kill them. He's been fighting them for years. Just like you."
Mira looked at him, tears streaming down her face. "How do you know?"
"Because," Lucien said, "I've seen them. The Shadow Knights. The ones who took the Grail. The ones who created the System." He paused. "And I'm going to destroy them. All of them."
Mira stared at him, something flickering in her eyes... hope, maybe, or desperation.
"I want to believe you," she whispered.
"Then do," Lucien said. "And help me."
For a long moment, silence filled the room.
Then Marcus spoke again. "There's one more thing you need to know."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a small, cloth-wrapped object. He set it on the table and unwrapped it slowly.
Inside was half a key.
Mira's breath stopped.
"This," Marcus said, "was entrusted to my family. The other half... was given to your father."
Mira's hand moved unconsciously to her collar, where the chain rested beneath her shirt.
Marcus noticed. His eyes widened. "You have it."
Mira didn't answer. She couldn't.
Because she knew, in that moment, that everything had just changed.