Alex let himself into his parents’ sprawling mansion, the heavy oak door creaking shut behind him, the foyer’s marble floor gleaming under a chandelier’s cold light. The air was thick with the scent of polished wood, a sterile opulence that felt more like a museum than a home. The staff’s glances—some curious, others disdainful—followed him, their whispers a familiar sting. They knew him as Russell Tormane’s wayward son, the wizard who’d shunned wealth for the S.P.A.’s gritty leash. He ignored them, his boots echoing on the tiles, his jaw tight with purpose. “Where’s my father?” he asked a young maid, her honesty a rare certainty in this house of secrets. The mansion was too vast to search, its halls a maze of gilt and shadows. “In his study,” she said, her voice low, her eyes darting to avoid the butler’s glare. “Alone?” Alex pressed, his voice sharp. He couldn’t risk other wizards—or worse, non-wizards—overhearing. The mystery ward was Ethan’s secret, and Ethan’s safety hung on discretion. “Yes. Your mother’s out tonight.” Her words were a relief, sparing him his mother’s theatrical scorn. “Good. Thanks.” Alex strode toward the study, the corridor’s plush carpet muffling his steps, portraits of stern ancestors glowering from the walls. He pushed open the study’s mahogany door without knocking, the scent of leather and old books hitting him like a wave. Russell Tormane looked up from his desk, his silver hair glinting under a brass lamp, his tailored suit as sharp as his frown. “What do you want?” he demanded, his voice a low growl, power radiating from the room’s dark paneling and towering shelves. Alex sat in a leather armchair without invitation, refusing to let the room’s grandeur—or his father’s authority—cow him. “Have you ever seen this ward before?” He slid several sheets of paper across the desk, each bearing a fragment of the sigil he’d sketched in the driveway, the pencil lines jagged from haste. He’d broken the ward into parts, a precaution against accidental casting. Russell’s frown deepened, his fingers tracing the papers, the desk’s polished surface reflecting his scowl. “This is incomplete.” “I couldn’t photograph it. This is what I remembered.” Alex’s voice was steady, a half-truth to shield Ethan. Even if he did remember it all, he’d never hand his father a loaded weapon. “Where did you see it?” Russell’s eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing, a wizard seeking leverage. “An S.P.A. mission. I can’t give details.” Alex leaned back, the chair creaking. The less Russell knew, the safer Ethan remained. “I’m the head wizard. You answer to me,” Russell snapped, his fingers tightening on the papers. “I answer to Winters. Talk to him.” Russell wouldn’t. He wanted nothing to do with the S.P.A., and Winters was one of the few men who wasn’t afraid of him. “Who cast it? Or can’t you tell me that either?” Russell’s voice dripped with sarcasm, his eyes glinting with suspicion. “I don’t know who it was.” Another half-truth—Ethan’s grandfather was the likely source, but Alex wouldn’t risk exposing him until he understood the ward’s origins. Russell studied the sketches, his frown etching deeper lines into his face. “I can’t tell you much. I’ve never seen anything like it. Old magic, probably forgotten. Maybe some gypsy passed it down.” He slid the papers back, his rings glinting. “Let me know if you find out who cast it. We don’t want unknown, dangerous wizards running around.” “Of course,” Alex said, his voice neutral, pocketing the papers. Only known dangerous wizards were allowed, and only if they belonged to Russell’s inner circle, a hypocrisy Alex swallowed bitterly. Russell leaned back, his chair creaking, his gaze shifting to a ledger on his desk. “Since you’re here, let’s discuss the $500 you spent last month. Given that it was withdrawn from an ATM in the red-light district, I can only assume what for. I let you use your trust fund despite your betrayal, but this doesn’t look good for the family. If the tabloids catch wind…” Alex’s jaw tightened, irritation flaring. “It’s not what you think. It was an emergency. Nick had been hurt and was feral. I paid people to let him feed so he didn’t go on a rampage.” That trust fund was from his grandparents. Russell had no business dictating how he spent it. Alex didn’t fight it because his dad usually let him spend it how he wanted, and he couldn’t afford to fight the lawyers his dad used. “Do you think I care if one vampire gets staked?” Russell challenged, his voice cold, his eyes glinting with disdain. “No. And you don’t care about the dozens he’d have killed, especially there. But it wouldn’t look good for Russell Tormane’s son to let his partner slaughter people because his billionaire dad wouldn’t loan him $500. It was paid back, wasn’t it?” Alex’s voice was sharp, his hazel eyes locked on his father’s, refusing to yield. “It was.” Russell’s tone softened, a false concern creeping in. “I just worry about your reputation.” Alex bit back a retort. Russell cared only for how Alex’s actions reflected on his empire, not his son’s well-being. “Are you still with Amy?” Russell asked, his voice deceptively casual. Alex stood, the chair scraping the floor, his patience snapping. “You worry about tabloids but don’t read them? Don’t worry about Amy.” He turned to leave, the study’s heavy air pressing against him, his relationship with Amy a sanctuary Russell couldn’t touch. “Shall I say hi to your mother?” Russell called, a taunt in his voice. “Why not?” Alex didn’t stop, his shoes thudding on the carpet, his mother’s cold indifference no better than his father’s manipulation. --- Alex drove through the city’s neon-lit streets, the S.P.A. base a distant goal, his car’s engine a low hum against the night’s pulse. He wove through traffic, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror, watching for paparazzi. Their cameras were a constant threat, ready to plaster his face across tabloids or, worse, tail him to a bust, exposing the S.P.A.’s operations. Alex thought about Ethan’s uncles. How old were they? Based on John’s clothes, they’d been dead for several decades. Their ability to show up in the daytime supported that. But they could also interact with the physical world, which would take longer. And Ethan had moved their anchors twice within a few years. When the S.P.A. had brought Jessica’s anchor, it had taken her a year to recover. The uncles didn’t seem to need that kind of recovery time. They were likely several centuries old. That might explain why the S.P.A. wanted them put to rest. But it still didn’t explain why the record was incomplete. And with Ethan being half werewolf, he didn’t want to risk asking about it and drawing attention to Ethan. His thoughts drifted to that ward. Most of the wards were a little advanced for a “dabbler”. But that could be easily explained by the fact that Ethan’s grandfather had known a wizard. And even though they weren’t supposed to share the knowledge, it sometimes happened. Or he’d copied the spells without the wizard’s knowledge. But that ward wasn’t the kind that a dabbler copied. And it was rare that Russell didn’t recognize a spell. He hadn’t bought his way into the leadership of the wizards. He had worked and studied to become the most powerful. Alex had too, but he’d never dethrone his father as head wizard. Russell had kept some disciplines hidden from him. So, while Alex might not recognize the type of magic the spell used, Russell should. And since he didn’t, he wouldn’t rest until he’d learned what it was. The only question would be whether he told Alex or not. It would take a while for him to find anything, so Alex had time to figure out how to get the information. Alex glanced in the rearview mirror. How long had that car been following him? Too long, it seemed. He needed to get back and keep an eye on Nick. He turned the corner and cast an illusion spell to make his car look like a different model. He then made a few turns to ensure he wasn’t followed and went home.