The silence inside the council hall was suffocating.
Alistair’s words still hung in the air. "Anyone who dares bring shame to the Vayne Clan must pay the price."
For a brief moment, nobody spoke. Several elders exchanged glances. Some nodded slightly. Others remained still.
Then the Clan Leader slowly raised his hand. The gesture was small, almost casual. Yet the moment he moved, the entire hall went quiet. Even Alistair closed his mouth immediately.
The old man’s eyes swept across the room. His expression hadn’t changed since the meeting began. Calm. Unreadable. The kind of calm that came from decades of absolute authority.
"Alistair."
His voice was quiet. Yet somehow it filled every corner of the hall.
"Sit down."
It wasn’t a suggestion,
Alistair’s jaw tightened. For a brief second, something flickered in his eyes. Then he slowly lowered himself back into his seat. His hands gripped the armrests. His knuckles turned white.
The Clan Leader looked around the table once more.
"I understand everyone’s anger." His tone was measured. "Blake is injured. Jade was put at risk. These are not small matters."
He paused.
"But anger is not a strategy."
One of the older elders nodded slowly. A few others remained expressionless but were clearly listening.
The Clan Leader continued. "We have been the Vayne Clan for over hundred years. In that time, we have never acted blindly. We have never moved without information. And we have never allowed emotion to replace judgment."
His eyes briefly landed on Alistair.
"That is why we are still standing when others have fallen."
Alistair said nothing. But his expression darkened further.
The Clan Leader leaned back slightly. "This Lucas. We know almost nothing real about him. We know his name. We know he is connected to Xavier. We know he defeated Blake and Jade."
He tapped the table once.
"That is not enough."
Another elder spoke carefully. "Then what do you suggest, Clan Leader?"
The old man’s eyes settled. "We send someone to Silvermont. Someone capable of reading the situation clearly. Not to fight. Not to threaten. Simply to observe and report."
He paused again.
"Once we understand exactly who Lucas is, what his backing looks like, and how deep his connections run — then we decide our next move."
The hall was quiet for a moment.
Then one of the senior elders slowly nodded. "That is wise."
Another followed. Then another.
The Clan Leader’s gaze moved across the table until it stopped on a man sitting near the far end.
The man hadn’t spoken once during the entire meeting. He sat perfectly still. His posture was relaxed yet precise, like a blade resting in its sheath.
"Dorian."
The man looked up.
"Go to Silvermont."
Dorian gave a single nod. Nothing more.
No questions. No hesitation.
The Clan Leader returned his attention to the rest of the hall. "Until Dorian reports back, nobody makes another move against Lucas. Nobody."
His eyes paused briefly on Alistair once more.
The warning was clear.
Alistair said nothing. He simply looked down at the table. But the fury behind his eyes hadn’t disappeared. It had only been buried temporarily.
Like embers waiting for wind.
----
The night in Silvermont was quiet.
Inside the villa, the lights were low. The crystal chandelier above the living room cast a soft golden glow across the room.
Lucas sat on the sofa with his arms folded. He stared at the ceiling.
Bianca sat across from him. One leg crossed over the other. A glass of water in her hand. Her expression as calm as ever.
She had already finished her sweep of the entire villa. Every entrance. Every exit. Every blind spot. She had memorized the layout in under twenty minutes.
𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮
Now she was simply waiting.
Lucas broke the silence first.
"So. The Vayne Clan." He looked at her. "How bad is it?"
Bianca set her glass down. "Bad enough that my grandfather sent me instead of calling you tomorrow."
Lucas absorbed that. "That bad."
"The Vayne Clan is part of the oldest martial families in the region." Her voice was even. Professional. "They don’t operate like normal people. Normal rules don’t apply to them."
Lucas frowned slightly. "What does that mean exactly?"
"It means if they decide you’re a target, they won’t send police. They won’t file lawsuits." Bianca looked at him directly. "They’ll send people. Quietly. And those people will be significantly stronger than the two you fought today."
Lucas was quiet for a moment.
"Stronger than Blake?"
"Blake was young generation." Bianca’s tone didn’t waver. "Mid-tier at best. The Vayne Clan has fighters that would make Blake look like a beginner."
Lucas exhaled slowly. He wasn’t afraid. But he wasn’t foolish enough to pretend the information didn’t matter.
"And Xavier? Can he—"
"Xavier is already moving." Bianca cut him off. Not rudely. Simply efficiently. "He’ll be here tomorrow. Until then, my job is to make sure you reach tomorrow."
Lucas looked at her for a moment.
Then, despite everything, a small smile appeared on his face.
"You know, most bodyguards at least pretend to be reassuring."
Bianca picked up her water glass again. "I’m not most bodyguards."
"Clearly."
She glanced at him sideways. "And most people being guarded don’t smile when they’re told ancient martial artists might be coming for them."
Lucas shrugged lightly. "Would panicking help?"
Bianca studied him for a brief second. Something shifted almost imperceptibly in her expression. Not warmth exactly. More like reluctant acknowledgment.
She looked away again without responding.
Lucas stretched his arms above his head and leaned back into the sofa.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
It wasn’t uncomfortable silence. It was simply silence.
Eventually Lucas tilted his head toward her. "Have you eaten anything?"
Bianca blinked. Of all the questions she had expected, that wasn’t one of them. "That’s irrelevant."
"There’s a fully stocked kitchen." Lucas stood up. "And I personally think it’s harder to protect someone when you’re hungry."
Bianca looked at him. Her expression was unreadable.
"I’m fine."
"Okay." Lucas walked toward the kitchen anyway. "I’m making something for myself then."
A few minutes passed.
The quiet sounds of someone moving around the kitchen drifted through the villa.
Bianca sat very still. Her eyes remained fixed on the entrance. Her posture never relaxed.
But after another minute, she set her glass down and stood up.
She walked toward the kitchen without making a sound.
Lucas had his back to her. He was already preparing two portions.
He didn’t turn around. "Took you about four minutes longer than I expected."
Bianca stopped in the kitchen doorway. Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just making sure you don’t burn the kitchen down."
Lucas smiled but didn’t say anything.
---
Several hundred kilometers away, inside a quiet hotel room in a city neighboring Silvermont, a man sat at a desk.
Dorian.
His luggage was already packed. His travel arrangements had been made before he even left the clan hall. A car would arrive at first light.
He would be in Silvermont by morning.
He opened a plain folder on the desk. Inside were the few documents the clan had gathered on Lucas. A photograph. A university enrollment record. A brief financial summary.
Dorian looked at the photograph for a long moment.
Then he closed the folder.
He had learned long ago that documents told you almost nothing real about a person. The only way to understand someone was to see them yourself.
He would see Lucas soon enough.
Dorian leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.