The aftermath of Arclight Tower’s fire left a black scar on the city skyline. News outlets were calling it a gas leak. Some whispered about terrorists. But no one knew the truth—except the ones who bled for it.
Scarlet stood in front of the mirror in the safehouse bathroom, a towel wrapped around her hand. Her reflection stared back at her, hollow-eyed and fierce.
“Sister,” she muttered.
The word felt like poison.
Behind her, Kaydence leaned against the doorframe. “We’ve faced worse.”
Scarlet met his gaze in the mirror. “No. We’ve never faced someone who knows how I think. How I breathe. She’s not a copy. She’s my other half.”
“She’s your shadow,” he said. “But you’re the light.”
Meanwhile — Underground Circle Council
The remaining heads of the Triangle met in a darkened wine cellar beneath an abandoned casino. Five chairs were filled. One remained empty—Annora’s.
“She was reckless,” muttered the man in the fur coat. “She compromised the west quadrant for sentiment.”
The others murmured in agreement.
From the shadows, a voice interrupted.
“She didn’t die because of love. She died because she underestimated the Veil bloodline.”
Lys emerged, her face stitched with fury and grace.
She held up a vial—crimson, pulsing.
“What is that?” someone asked.
“The end of Seina Sallow,” Lys said.
The council leaned in.
Safehouse — Days Later
Scarlet mapped the city on the wall, red string connecting known Triangle locations, allies, threats, and unknowns. She barely slept.
Miro lay on the couch, arm in a sling. “She’s not going to attack straight away,” he said. “She’s theatrical. She’ll send a message first.”
As if on cue, the power cut out.
Then the screen in the corner blinked to life.
A pre-recorded video played.
Lys, seated on a throne of black stone, dressed in white.
“Hello, sister,” she said, smiling coldly. “Welcome to the final act.”
The camera panned to a captive.
It was Jasper.
Tied to a chair. Bleeding. Bruised.
“You have forty-eight hours to come to me,” Lys said. “Alone. Or he dies. And this time, there’s no fire escape.”
The screen cut to black.
Scarlet’s knuckles whitened around her knife.
“I’m going,” she said.
Kaydence stepped in front of her. “You’re not going anywhere without me.”
“She said—”
“I don’t care. You’re not dying for this.”
Scarlet’s voice trembled. “It’s not about dying. It’s about finishing it.”
Miro looked between them. “We’ll need a plan.”
The old Veil estate had long been abandoned. Ivy-choked gates, shattered windows. But the inside still breathed power.
Scarlet walked through the grand hallway alone. Her boots echoed like thunder.
Lys waited in the ballroom.
Jasper lay unconscious at her feet.
“You came,” Lys purred.
“I came to end this.”
Lys smiled. “Then let’s begin.”
The doors behind Scarlet exploded.
Kaydence. Miro. And five loyalists stormed in.
Lys laughed. “You never were good at following rules.”
She raised her hand.
From the shadows, soldiers in white masks emerged. Dozens.
The ballroom became a warzone.
Gunfire. Screams. Blood.
Scarlet and Lys fought in the center.
Blade against blade.
Sister against sister.
Kaydence reached Jasper and pulled him to safety.
Miro covered them, eyes scanning for snipers.
Scarlet’s blade finally pierced Lys’s side.
But Lys smiled through the blood.
“You think this ends with me?”
She activated a device on her wrist.
Explosives.
The estate began to collapse.
Kaydence grabbed Scarlet’s hand.
“We have to go—NOW!”
They barely escaped as the house exploded into ash and fire.
One Week Later
The Triangle was fractured. Leaderless. Running.
Scarlet stood at the rooftop garden of a new safehouse, overlooking the city.
“She’s dead,” Kaydence said.
“She’s gone,” Scarlet corrected.
He looked at her. “Same thing.”
She didn’t answer.
Because somewhere out there—she felt it—Lys Veil still breathed.
And the war wasn’t over.
Just on pause.
 The ruins of the Veil estate smoldered like a pyre for a fallen dynasty.
Ash drifted in the wind, settling on Scarlet’s shoulders like snow. She didn’t brush it off. It felt right. Like mourning.
Kaydence stood beside her, bandaged and grim. “This land is cursed.”
“No,” Scarlet said softly. “It’s just soaked in truth.”
They were standing in the foundation of her childhood, looking down at bones.
Real bones.
Buried beneath the old ballroom.
Kaydence kicked at the dirt. “How long do you think they’ve been here?”
“Long enough to become ghosts,” Scarlet answered. “My family wasn’t just powerful. They were executioners.”
She knelt and unearthed a rusted pendant—an old Veil crest.
“I used to wear this,” she whispered.
“You were a different person then.”
“Was I?”