The storm hadn't stopped since midnight.
By morning, branches littered the courtyard, windows rattled from the wind, and the once-pristine halls of Ashbourne Manor carried a new tension — one that crackled in the air like lightning just waiting to strike.
Mila hadn't told Elias about the feather.
Not yet.
Some instinct warned her to hold that card close.
Instead, she focused on the contract they'd signed. On the war they'd started. And on finding the traitor inside the house.
She was done waiting for danger to come to her.
She'd hunt it now.
---
Elias led her into the old archives, a forgotten wing sealed behind a sliding mirror wall in the west corridor. Dust blanketed everything. Shelves stretched to the ceiling. Thick volumes lined with gold-threaded spines.
"This is where my father kept records the rest of the family didn't want anyone to see," Elias explained. "Blackmail. Transactions. Executions."
Mila raised a brow. "So a murder library."
Elias gave a humorless smirk. "Essentially."
They combed through files, looking for anything connected to Iris, or the recent attack, or the strange symbols etched around the estate.
It was Mila who found the page that chilled them both.
A list of "active agents."
One name stood out.
Rowan E.
Miss Rowan.
---
"I trusted her," Mila hissed as they stalked back toward the main wing.
"She's loyal to the Ashbourne legacy, not me," Elias said darkly. "She was my grandfather's handler for decades."
As if summoned, Rowan appeared at the top of the grand staircase, calm as always.
"Is there something I can help you with, Master Elias?" she asked smoothly.
Elias didn't respond.
Mila stepped forward. "How long have you been spying on us?"
Rowan's eyes barely flickered. "You're upset. Perhaps a cup of tea—"
"Cut the act!" Mila snapped. "You've been feeding information to the man locked in your basement! You let someone into my room — left a rose, left a threat—"
"I have done what this house required," Rowan said sharply. "What your presence threatens is not just Elias's life, but the balance we've maintained for years. You think this is about love or protection? This is a war, girl. One you don't understand."
Elias stepped beside Mila. "Then let us understand. All of it."
Rowan looked between them, then slowly reached into her sleeve.
Mila braced herself, expecting a weapon.
Instead, Rowan pulled out a small velvet pouch.
She handed it to Elias without a word.
He opened it carefully. Inside was a ring — old, iron, with an engraved phoenix curling around a black stone.
His brow furrowed. "This was my grandfather's."
"He left it for you," Rowan said. "Told me to give it to you the day you chose war over blood."
Elias stared at the ring for a long moment.
"What does it do?" Mila asked.
Rowan's eyes narrowed. "It binds him. The magic in this estate is older than you can imagine. That ring is a key… and a leash."
Mila stepped closer. "So we can control him."
"You can," Rowan said. "But the leash cuts both ways."
---
Later that night, Mila found herself alone in the courtyard garden — the one with the white roses and stone fountain. It was the only place that felt remotely safe now.
She ran her fingers along the petals of one flower, remembering the one left on her window. The hidden note. The whisper from the walls.
Every sign pointed to something ancient moving again in the house — and Mila didn't think it would stop at her.
A rustle in the hedges caught her attention.
She turned, alert.
Nothing.
She backed away slowly—
And a masked figure lunged from the dark.
Mila reacted on instinct.
She ducked the blade swipe, grabbed a loose brick from the fountain ledge, and smashed it into her attacker's arm.
The masked intruder hissed, staggered, then recovered fast.
Another swing. Mila blocked with her arm — pain flared, but she stayed upright.
She dropped to the ground and kicked his knees out from under him.
The figure fell — and Mila ripped the mask off.
It wasn't a stranger.
It was one of the guards Elias had trusted. A man named Lorne.
His eyes were wild, his mouth twisted with hate.
"You ruined everything," he growled. "We were finally close to freeing him. And now he's given the ring to you."
Mila blinked. "You're working with Elias's grandfather?"
"He promised a new order. One where bloodlines mattered again. Where outsiders like you didn't taint the legacy."
Rage burst in her chest.
She grabbed the dagger hidden in her boot and pressed it to his throat.
"Say 'taint' one more time," she said, voice low and dangerous.
Lorne bared his teeth. "Kill me. It won't stop him. He's already waking."
Before Mila could respond, a gunshot rang out.
Lorne's body went limp beneath her.
Elias stood a few steps away, pistol smoking in his hand.
He crossed to her, pulled her up, and cupped her face.
"You okay?" he asked, eyes dark with worry.
Mila nodded slowly. "Yeah. Just tired of being the hunted."
Elias looked down at the corpse. "Then let's go hunting."
---
That night, they returned to the war room.
Elias placed the phoenix ring on the table. The moment it touched the surface, the flames in the lanterns rose high — unnatural, golden white.
Symbols lit up on the walls.
A voice echoed through the chamber.
"You think you can chain a god, boy?"
It was the voice of Elias's grandfather.
Dark. Smooth. Terrifying.
Mila stood firm. "You're not a god. You're just a man who got too comfortable in the dark."
The voice laughed. "And what are you, Mila Hart? A girl with debt and desperation. You don't belong in this house."
"Maybe not," she said. "But I'm not leaving."
The flames flickered, then died.
Silence fell.
Elias looked at her.
"You just challenged a ghost of a man who murdered for sport," he said.
Mila shrugged. "Well, I've been broke and alone before. This is scarier, but not by much."
A smile pulled at the edge of his lips.
"You're either fearless," he said, "or completely insane."
Mila smirked. "Maybe both."