Lost Contact

As Bald Eagle heard this, his sense of foreboding grew stronger.

"Call Lil Twelve!"

Dark Falcon, noticing Bald Eagle's grave expression, quickly pulled out his phone and dialed Cynthia's number. Like Bald Eagle's call, it was also unreachable.

"It's not going through," Dark Falcon said, looking up at Bald Eagle. The two exchanged a knowing glance, and a clear realization dawned on them.

Without exchanging a word, they both stood up and hurriedly made their way out of Buckingham Palace.

Dark Falcon started the car, and Bald Eagle tossed his gear into the vehicle before sliding into the passenger seat with smooth agility.

As the car sped away, Bald Eagle pulled out his phone and dialed Tristan's number.

In the council hall.

At the large conference table sat a diverse group of people. At the head were Old Mr. Ford and Tristan. Next were the members of Freemasonry, followed by Tristan's uncles and the heads of various branch families.

The meeting was nearing its end.