The rain had stopped, leaving Oakhaven draped in a suffocating, silver mist that clung to the jagged remains of the hotel’s glass facade. Inside the ruined suite, the silence was more violent than the explosions that had preceded it. Hunter stood clutching the golden locket, the ink of his father’s betrayal searing into his palm. His world was collapsing—not from the Void-Blight or the GHC, but from the realization that his entire life had been a choreographed lie.
Willow stood by the threshold of the balcony, her silhouette framed by the violet lightning flickering in the distance. She looked like a queen surveying the ruins of a lesser kingdom.
"Willow," Hunter rasped, taking a step toward her. The locket trembled in his hand. "This note... my father... he orchestrated the rejection. H
