The docks were busy.
Adrian remained on the opposite side of the street, standing beneath the shadow of an old warehouse while he studied the port. Workers moved between buildings carrying crates, pushing carts, and shouting instructions to one another. Ships rested along the river, their horns occasionally breaking through the thick London fog.
To anyone else, it looked like an ordinary morning at the docks.
To Adrian, it was a battlefield.
His eyes settled on the warehouse from his vision.
Helen was inside.
Five Nova Roma soldiers were guarding the building.
At least, that was what he had seen through the mirror.
Adrian didn't immediately approach.
He stood there for several minutes, pretending to be another man waiting for someone while his eyes carefully examined the area.
The warehouse had two entrances that he could see. One faced the main street, while another appeared to lead toward the rear loading area. Workers occasionally passed nearby, making a direct assault extremely dangerous.
Too many civilians.
Too many unknowns.
And one person he absolutely could not afford to lose.
Helen.
Adrian lowered his head and took a slow breath.
I need to do this quickly.
His spiritual senses spread outward.
The sensation was strange.
Three years ago, he would have relied almost entirely on his Seer abilities. Now the Clown potion had begun changing the way he perceived his surroundings. His balance, instincts, and awareness had sharpened, while his spiritual energy seemed easier to manipulate.
He didn't need to see through the walls.
He only needed to feel the presence of living beings nearby.
Adrian concentrated.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
There they were.
Two people were positioned on the side of the warehouse, smoking and talking quietly. Two more were outside near the main entrance, keeping watch over anyone approaching the building.
And the fifth—
Adrian's expression hardened.
Near Helen.
Exactly five.
He studied their positions again.
The two smokers were isolated from the others.
The two guarding the entrance would eventually have to enter the warehouse if they heard something.
And the fifth was standing directly beside Helen.
That meant he couldn't simply attack the building.
One mistake could get Helen killed.
Adrian needed silence.
He needed speed.
And most importantly—
He needed control.
His hand slipped into his coat pocket.
Then stopped.
No.
Using the pistol too early would create noise.
The docks were busy, but gunshots would still attract attention.
Adrian looked toward a nearby newspaper vendor.
An idea formed.
He walked toward the vendor and purchased a newspaper.
"Thank you," Adrian said casually.
The vendor barely looked at him.
Adrian continued walking until he was far enough away from the stall. He unfolded the newspaper and glanced at the headlines.
Political arguments.
Economic troubles.
Another article about the changing world.
None of it mattered.
He began tearing the newspaper apart.
One piece.
Then another.
Then another.
Soon, several small pieces of paper rested between his fingers.
Adrian glanced toward the warehouse.
The Clown inside him seemed to smile.
Paper.
Something so ordinary.
Something so harmless.
And yet—
The world had rules.
The Clown existed to laugh at them.
Adrian allowed a small amount of spiritual energy to flow through his fingers.
The pieces of paper trembled.
Their edges tightened.
The flimsy sheets folded inward, twisting and compressing until they became thin, sharp shapes.
Paper daggers.
Adrian examined one.
It looked ridiculous.
A weapon made from a newspaper.
Yet the spiritual energy surrounding it made the paper harder than it had any right to be.
Good enough.
He tucked the remaining paper daggers inside his coat.
Now he needed to get into position.
Adrian moved away from the street and entered an abandoned warehouse opposite the Nova Roma building.
The interior was dark and dusty. Broken crates were scattered across the floor, and an old wooden staircase led toward the upper level.
He climbed.
Every step was careful.
The Clown's enhanced balance made the climb easier than it should have been. His body seemed to instinctively know where to place each foot.
Eventually, he reached the roof.
Adrian crouched near the edge and looked across.
The gap between the warehouses wasn't large.
Still, one mistake would send him crashing onto the street below.
He took a breath.
Then jumped.
His feet landed on the opposite roof with barely a sound.
Adrian immediately crouched.
No one noticed.
He moved toward the rear of the warehouse and found the window he'd noticed earlier.
It was old.
The lock wasn't difficult.
A little pressure.
A quiet click.
The window opened.
Adrian slipped inside.
The warehouse was darker than the outside. Stacks of crates and containers filled the interior, creating a maze of hiding places.
He climbed down carefully, keeping close to the wall.
Then he saw it.
A large red shipping container stood near the rear section of the building.
Perfect cover.
Adrian crouched behind it.
His spiritual senses reached outward again.
The two smokers were nearby.
He could hear their conversation.
Neither seemed concerned.
One laughed.
The other took another drag from his cigarette.
Adrian slowly reached into his coat.
Two paper daggers.
He waited.
The wind shifted.
One of the soldiers turned his head.
Adrian flicked his wrist.
The first dagger flew silently.
The second followed immediately.
Both struck before the soldiers could properly react.
One collapsed against the wall.
The other stumbled backward, dropping his cigarette as his legs gave out.
No gunshot.
No shout.
No alarm.
Adrian exhaled.
Two.
Now the soldier near Helen.
He moved around the container.
The guard stood beside Helen, his attention directed toward the entrance.
Adrian raised the pistol.
For a brief moment, his finger rested against the trigger.
The memory returned.
Mike.
The warehouse.
The gunshot.
The guilt.
Adrian's expression hardened.
Not again.
But this time, he wasn't killing someone because he had no choice.
He was protecting someone.
The pistol fired.
The soldier collapsed.
Helen remained still.
Adrian immediately moved behind the door.
Two guards remained outside.
He could hear footsteps.
Someone had noticed the sound.
The door opened.
Two Nova Roma soldiers entered, weapons already raised.
Adrian waited until both were inside.
Then he moved.
Two paper daggers flew from behind the door.
The first struck one soldier before he could turn.
The second struck the other.
Both dropped.
Silence returned.
Adrian stood still for several seconds.
His heart hammered against his chest.
He listened.
Nothing.
No shouting.
No reinforcements.
No footsteps approaching.
Five.
All down.
He lowered the pistol.
Then his attention turned immediately toward Helen.
He rushed toward her.
"Helen."
She didn't respond.
Fear flashed through Adrian's chest.
He checked her breathing.
Still alive.
Relief washed over him.
She had been knocked unconscious, but she was otherwise unharmed.
Adrian quickly removed the ropes binding her to the chair.
"Helen."
He gently shook her shoulder.
Her eyelids fluttered.
Then opened.
For several seconds, she simply stared at him.
"Adrian?"
"I'm here."
Her expression changed from confusion to concern.
"What are you doing here?"
Adrian didn't answer immediately.
Helen looked at his face.
Then at the unconscious soldiers scattered around the warehouse.
Her eyes widened.
"What happened?"
Adrian looked away.
"It's complicated."
"You were supposed to be at work."
"I know."
"Then why are you here?"
Adrian finally looked back at her.
Because the truth was too dangerous.
Because every person who came close to him seemed to become a target.
Because he had spent three years trying to build an ordinary life, and the moment his past returned, it had reached directly for the one person he had promised to protect.
Instead of answering, Adrian pulled Helen into his arms.
She stiffened for a moment.
Then slowly wrapped her arms around him.
Adrian closed his eyes.
For the first time since Bishop had appeared, he allowed himself to feel the fear he'd been suppressing.
He had almost lost her.
That thought terrified him more than anything else.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
Helen pulled back slightly.
"For what?"
"For bringing this to you."
She looked at him with confusion.
"You didn't bring anything."
"I did."
Adrian shook his head.
"You can't stay in London."
Helen stared at him.
"What?"
"You need to leave."
"Adrian—"
"I'm serious."
His voice carried a firmness she rarely heard from him.
"You need to go somewhere safe. Somewhere far away from London."
"Why?"
"Because the people who took you aren't ordinary criminals."
Helen glanced toward the unconscious soldiers.
"I figured that much out."
Adrian almost smiled.
Almost.
"They came looking for me."
"And now they know about me."
He didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
Helen's expression softened.
"You think they'll come back."
"I know they will."
Adrian looked toward the warehouse doors.
He could already feel the weight of what was coming.
Bishop was still somewhere in London.
Nova Roma would not simply abandon their mission.
And behind all of it was a mystery Adrian still couldn't understand.
Why him?
Why now?
And why did the future seem to know his name?
He turned back toward Helen.
"I need you somewhere they can't find you."
"Where?"
"I don't know yet."
Helen frowned.
"You don't even have a plan?"
Adrian gave her a tired smile.
"I've never been particularly good at making normal plans."
Despite everything, Helen let out a small laugh.
For a moment, the warehouse didn't feel like a battlefield.
It felt like home.
Adrian's smile faded.
"I have to go."
Helen's eyes immediately filled with worry.
"Where?"
"I don't know."
"Then why leave?"
"Because as long as you're near me, you're in danger."
He gently placed a hand on her shoulder.
"I promised Mike I'd take care of you."
Helen looked at him silently.
"And I'm going to keep that promise."
Adrian stepped toward the warehouse entrance.
Before leaving, he looked back at her one final time.
"Get out of London."
Helen wanted to argue.
But something in his expression stopped her.
He wasn't asking.
He was terrified.
Not for himself.
For her.
Adrian opened the door and stepped into the fog.
The Fool had survived another trap.
But he had learned something far more important than how to defeat five soldiers.
His enemies had found his weakness.
And Adrian had finally realized the price of staying close to the people he loved.
Sometimes protecting someone meant having the courage to walk away from them.
He disappeared into the London fog, leaving Helen behind.
For now.