It is so easy at times for a lonely individual to begin fantasising about what the people outside are saying about him and, in result, irrationally and fearfully, and sometimes angrily, fancying himself a villain." - Criss Jami (Healology)

* * * *

Clack! Clack! Clack! Clack!

The rhythmic tapping of keys echoed like the ticking of a clock marking time wasted.

Honestly, I might as well move my damn bed in here at this point, Lucas thought bitterly, his eyes fixed on the monitor in front of him, flickering with lines of dead-end data and case files he'd read a hundred times before.

The artificial blue glow painted shadows beneath his eyes, casting a hollow tiredness across his lean, sharp-boned face. He sat hunched at his desk in Team Alpha's office, posture tense with frustration, yet his fingers moved with the stubbornness of someone refusing to admit defeat. At least not yet.

He was chasing ghosts, and the walls were closing in.

Aegis. That damned name again. They'd eluded him for months now, slipping between cracks like vapour, taunting him with each silent lead, each unanswered call.

After the train-wreck that had been the meeting with Ethan in Zalfari, even their most reliable underground contacts had gone dark. Phones rang hollow. Messages remained unread. And Elijah, ever the cold and calculating tactician, had become distant, curt to the point of biting.

Aside from the "crash course" Elijah had delivered with the enthusiasm of someone forced to tutor a child, he'd barely spoken to Lucas since Zalfari. And truthfully, Lucas couldn't blame him. Elijah had every right to be furious.

They'd gambled. And they'd lost.

Contact with Ethan, and worse, an unannounced confrontation with Zalfari's new "guardians"—survivors of Blade, had put everyone at risk. Elijah had yelled until his voice went hoarse, berating both Lucas and Leonid with the sharp edge of guilt and reality: You're not invincible. One wrong move and you're dead. Or worse, compromised.

He'd heard it all. And still, here he was, digging for answers that refused to surface.

Lucas had tracked serial killers, terrorist cells, and black market dealers. He'd burned through countless nights piecing together operations that others gave up on.

But nothing—nothing—was like this.

Aegis moved like phantoms, invisible yet ever-present. No names. No faces. No patterns. Just a whisper in the dark and a digital footprint wiped clean before it was even made.

All Lucas knew—all he knew—was that they were Gifted.

That was obvious now, given the nature of their strikes. Their skills were unnatural, surgical, and devastating. Murder followed in their wake. Executions, really. Each one deliberate.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Controlled. Targeted.

And somehow, they always vanished without a trace.

Even their website, their only known method of communication, was impenetrable. Lucas had tried everything. So had Elijah. Even Louis, the ESA's most brilliant digital mind, had failed to crack the encryption, and that was saying something. If Louis couldn't do it, then no one could.

Lucas groaned and leaned back, resisting the overwhelming urge to slam his forehead against the desk. His muscles ached from tension, his fire Gift coiled beneath his skin like a caged thing, restless and angry from disuse. He pressed his palms into his eyes.

"I need a damn vacation," he muttered into his hands.

Just then, the door creaked open. Lucas looked up with dulled eyes, expecting another stack of paperwork or an exhausted agent reporting in.

Instead, in stepped Louis, a stack of files tucked under one arm and his usual too-casual look in place. His lean frame and slouched posture made him look more like a bored intern than one of the ESA's most dangerous minds.

Louis blinked at the mostly-empty office. "Elijah not around?"

Lucas sighed. "They're on break. He should be back soon. You want to wait?"

"Nah." Louis crossed the room with his usual lazy, light-footed gait, his pineapple-styled hair swaying as he placed the files neatly on Elijah's desk. "Just needed to drop these off. Tell him I stopped by."

Lucas nodded, his curiosity piqued but held in check. He knew better than to ask. Both Louis and Elijah occupied the shadows of their respective teams—intelligence, encryption, and deep network surveillance. Whatever those files were, they weren't meant for just anyone's eyes. Certainly not now.

Louis turned, but paused mid-step, frowning slightly. "What are you even doing in here alone? You guys aren't on a case right now, are you?"

Lucas gave a tired shrug and returned his gaze to the screen. "Trying to pull a miracle out of thin air."

Louis's dark eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, and froze. "…Is that Aegis's website?" he whispered sharply. "And… Wait, is that the ESA's archive program next to it? Are you seriously trying to backtrack their clients?"

Lucas leaned back with a groan, dragging a hand through his raven-black hair. "Trying. Failing. And probably wasting my time."

Louis didn't respond immediately. Lucas glanced up, and saw that he was staring, not at him, but at the corner of the room. At the sleek, unobtrusive shape of a surveillance camera built into the ceiling panel.

"I'm not asking Elijah for help. Not now." Lucas continued quietly. "He hasn't forgiven me for Zalfari. And I get it. I do. And with the mood he's been in for nearly a month, I don't think I want to ask anything of him at the moment until he's calmed down." Louis winced, knowing what Elijah is like when he's angry. "But Aegis is still on our list, so I just want to understand them. Anything."

Silence stretched between them like a live wire.

Then, without a word, Louis stepped closer. One hand came down beside Lucas's, fingers brushing the desk just slightly—casual, practiced, and perfectly angled to block any clear view from above. He leaned over, pretending to peer at the screen.

"You didn't hear this from me," he murmured, his voice barely audible.

Lucas blinked. "What?"

"I know someone," Louis said, his tone flat but charged. "Hired Aegis a long time ago. Back before they became as well-known as they are now."

Lucas turned toward him instinctively, only for Louis to hiss and step lightly on his foot.

"Don't look at me," Louis whispered through clenched teeth. "Camera in the corner. Keep your eyes forward."

Lucas stiffened and forced his gaze back to the screen, his heartbeat quickening.

"I'll give you the address," Louis said under his breath. "He might talk. No promises. But it's better than chasing shadows."

As he spoke, his left hand slid out a folded slip of paper—already scrawled with precise, tiny handwriting, and let it fall onto the desk beneath his arm. Lucas, quick as ever, slipped it into his palm and into his pocket in one fluid motion.

Louis stepped back, adjusting the strap of his bag like nothing had happened. "Let Elijah know I came by," he said aloud, voice once more light, lazy, and indifferent.

And then, just before the door swung shut behind him, he mouthed a final word: Be careful.

* * * *

Louis moved swiftly down the corridor, his boots silent against the polished floor, mind already racing.

Had he done the right thing? Drawing Lucas into this web felt like feeding kindling to a fire that could burn too bright, too fast. Aegis wasn't just a rogue faction—they were a force unto themselves.

You didn't investigate them. You survived them.

He was so lost in thought that he barely registered the figure coming around the corner.

"Whoa!"

Louis nearly collided with Jonan, who was juggling a disposable cup of what smelled like scalding coffee.

"Watch where you're going, man!" Jonan yelped, stepping back with exaggerated care.

"Sorry," Louis muttered distractedly.

Jonan's face lit up with that devil-may-care grin of his. "Actually, good timing."

Before Louis could escape, Jonan's free arm hooked around his shoulders in a too-familiar grip, steering him in the opposite direction and casually turning their backs to the hallway's surveillance camera.

"What in the Goddess's name are you doing?" Louis squawked, squirming.

"Just play along," Jonan whispered low, his voice nearly lost beneath the hum of lights overhead. "I need your help."

Louis stopped struggling, but his pulse quickened.

Somehow, he knew this wasn't going to be simple either.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.