The message still burned on Jack’s phone.
Your mercy is predictable. That’s how we knew you’d choose it.
He stood still for a moment, the sun painting the sky in hues of amber and blood. Sarah leaned in closer, eyes searching his face.
“Who sent that?” she asked.
Jack’s lips tightened. “Victor hinted about a group before—something bigger than Emily or the Wilsons. I thought it was just paranoia.”
Sarah frowned. “You think he was talking about this?”
Jack nodded slowly. “The Shadow Council.”
The words sounded ridiculous out loud. Like a bad spy novel. But the cold churn in his stomach told him it was very real.
Later that night, Jack moved through the back alleys of Harmonfield in a black hoodie, the city’s pulse echoing around him. No security, no entourage. Just instincts, sharpen
