Thursday – 5:17 AM – Portside Storage Facility, Lower East Side
The unit number wasn't marked.
Vincent followed Adriana down the metal corridor lit by flickering fluorescents. Her pace was quiet, deliberate. He'd asked where they were going. She hadn't answered. Just said: "You need to know who I used to be, before she finds you first."
At the end of the hallway, she punched in a six-digit code. The lock disengaged with a hiss.
Inside was a single steel crate. No furniture. No documents. Just a locked weapons case and a photo pinned to the wall—a girl with a defiant grin, arms slung around Adriana.
"She was never supposed to come back," Adriana whispered. "Not after what she did."
Vincent turned toward her. "Zorina?"
Adriana shook her head. "My sister."
Adriana's Flashback – Five Years Ago
Location: Bucharest – Private Estate of Valentin Bogdan
"I said stay behind the line, Alex!" Adriana hissed, blood still drying on her boots.
Her older sister—wild-eyed, laughing—stepped over the training boundary anyway, knife in hand, adrenaline in her veins like a drug.
"You're too soft," Alex said, voice mocking. "Always waiting. Always thinking. That'll get you killed."
"I was following orders."
Alex sneered. "And what good are orders when Father dies?"
Adriana froze. "He's not going to—"
"—He's mortal, Adri. And the minute he's gone, they'll split the family like wolves. You think this Red Court fantasy means anything to the real monsters out there?"
Adriana stepped back, spine rigid.
Alex's expression shifted. Pity. Regret. Then cold resolve.
"I'm not waiting for death to find us," she said. "I'm going to find them first."
And that was the last time Adriana saw her sister.
Until now.
-
Present Day
Saint Helena Academy – North Courtyard.
Vincent leaned against the sculpture garden's stone edge, phone vibrating in his palm. He checked the text.
Unknown number: You're not safe with her. You never were.
Another ping.
Ask her about Bucharest. About "Clemente."
He stared at the screen. Clemente?
Before he could respond, Zara plopped onto the bench beside him, biting into an apple.
"You look like someone shoved your moral compass into a blender."
"Adriana has a sister," he said flatly.
Zara froze mid-bite.
"…Well. That explains the wind shifting."
"You knew?"
"I knew there was a reason Adriana refused every Red Court inheritance ceremony. Something she was waiting for. Or someone."
Vincent turned the screen toward her.
"Do you know who Clemente is?"
Zara read the message. Her face paled. "You need to ask her. Tonight."
"Why?"
"Because if that name is back in circulation—your days of being the crushable, harmless tutor? Are over."
-
Adriana's Room.
Thunder cracked against the horizon.
Adriana sat at her desk, staring at a sealed manila envelope she'd retrieved from the storage unit. Inside: the last known surveillance image of Clemente, taken outside a chapel in Palermo. Her father had circled it in red ink and scrawled one word across the corner:
"LIAR."
Vincent knocked once, stepped in.
She didn't turn.
"Why didn't you tell me you had a sister?"
Adriana closed her eyes. "Because she's not my sister anymore."
"Zorina's moving pieces," he said, stepping closer. "Tristan's still missing. Zara says Clemente's name is back. And I got a warning today that didn't come from her."
Adriana looked at him then. "You think Alex is involved."
"I don't know. But someone's betting you'll fold if they come for me."
A long silence stretched between them.
Finally, Adriana stood and crossed the room. Not with her usual grace. But like someone too tired to pretend she wasn't carrying weight. She held out the envelope.
Vincent opened it.
His eyes scanned the photo, then stopped at the red-scrawled word.
"Clemente lied to your father?"
"He lied to everyone."
"And what does your sister have to do with him?"
"She followed him," she whispered. "Even after we knew."
Vincent looked up. "Knew what?"
Adriana hesitated.
"He's the reason our mother died."
-
Elsewhere
The camera feed flickered to life.
Zorina crossed her arms, watching the two teens on screen through the drone feed—standing too close. Sharing too much.
She didn't like it.
But someone else did.
A second figure stepped into the room behind her.
Alex Bogdan.
Hair braided tight. Cold eyes. And a silver chain around her wrist that once belonged to their mother.
"She told him," Alex said, not looking away from the monitor.
Zorina raised a brow. "And that's… a problem?"
Alex's lips curved upward. Not a smile. Something sharper.
"No. It's perfect."
She leaned forward and typed a single command into the interface.
"Clemente Protocol: Initiate."
-
Saint Helena Grounds
Vincent's phone buzzed again.
Unknown number. But this time, a video.
He played it.
The footage was grainy, timestamped two hours in the future—yet unmistakable.
Adriana. Kneeling. Blood on her hands. Her voice breaking as she whispered a name.
"Vincent…"
And then—gunfire.
The screen cut to black.
Below it, a final message:
The clock starts now. Twelve hours. Save her… or destroy her.