Doubt

Morning came with an unsettling stillness. The warmth of the shelter's fire hadn't chased away the weight pressing on Ariel's chest.

She barely slept after the attack. None of them had.

Frank wasted no time. The moment they left their quarters, he marched straight for Lazarus.

The meeting chamber was just as they had left it—too elegant, too carefully arranged for a world that had long since collapsed. Lazarus sat at the head of the wooden table, sipping from a cup of something dark and steaming. He looked as if he had been waiting for them.

"Frank," Lazarus greeted, his smooth voice carrying an air of amusement. "You look troubled."

Frank didn't bother with pleasantries. "Someone broke into our quarters last night. Armed. Trained. They went for Ariel."

Lazarus set his cup down, expression turning sharp. "That is… troubling news."

"Isn't it?" Frank crossed his arms. "You run a tight operation here. How does someone slip through your security?"

Lazarus exhaled slowly, as if considering the weight of Frank's words. Then he stood. "This is unacceptable. If an assassin walks among us, I will not tolerate it." His golden-ringed eyes flickered toward Ariel. "You were attacked, yet you are still standing. Impressive."

Ariel didn't like the way he said it. Like it was a test she had unknowingly passed.

Frank's tone darkened. "She cut him. Left arm. If they're still here, they'll be easy to find."

Lazarus smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Then let's not waste time."

With a single motion, he summoned one of his attendants—a tall, silent man who moved like a shadow. "Gather everyone in the shelter," Lazarus commanded. "I want them assembled immediately."

The order was carried out with stunning efficiency. Within minutes, the entire shelter's population was gathered in the courtyard. Humans, magic users, and enhanced individuals alike stood in wary silence as Lazarus addressed them.

"We had an intruder last night," he announced, his voice carrying over the assembled crowd. "A coward who lurked in the shadows, attacking our guests. I will not abide such betrayal in my home."

A ripple of murmurs passed through the group. Some looked genuinely concerned. Others… less so.

Lazarus's eyes gleamed. "The attacker was wounded," he continued. "Left arm. I expect them to step forward. If not—" his fingers twitched, and the very air seemed to shudder around him. "I will find them myself."

Ariel tensed, watching the crowd closely. Some of the people looked nervous. A few shifted, adjusting their sleeves or glancing at one another. But no one stepped forward.

Lazarus waited a beat longer, then exhaled through his nose. "Interesting," he murmured. He turned to Frank. "It seems your attacker was not one of mine."

Frank's expression remained unreadable. "Or they're hiding very well."

Lazarus nodded slightly. "If that is the case, they won't hide for long."

Ariel wasn't sure she believed him.

As the crowd dispersed, a woman approached Violet.

Ariel recognized her immediately—the same guard who had been stationed at the entrance when they arrived. The one with the scar running along her cheek.

She moved with quiet confidence, her dark eyes locking onto Violet with an intensity that made Ariel's skin crawl.

"You don't belong with them," the woman said softly, her voice just loud enough for Violet to hear.

Violet blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"You see it, don't you?" The woman gestured around them, at the supernatural individuals freely moving through the shelter. "A place where we're not treated like outcasts. Where we're not feared. You could have that here. You could belong."

Violet hesitated. Ariel saw it—the flicker of something in her expression.

Doubt.

The woman leaned in slightly. "Think about it," she whispered. Then, with a small smirk, she turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Ariel narrowed her eyes.

They were trying to recruit Violet.

And, judging by the way she stood there, brows furrowed, fingers twitching slightly, it was working.

She made a mental note to keep an eye on him.

Meanwhile, Frank and Lazarus had moved on to another topic. One far more strategic.

"The way I see it," Frank was saying, "a partnership between our shelters is only useful if it strengthens both of us. And that means resources."

Lazarus's golden eyes gleamed with interest. "Go on."

"We need access to more resource sites," Frank continued. "Old world supplies, lycan dens, wolf nests. You've got people trained for supernatural extraction. We have people trained for old-world salvage. We pool that expertise, we both come out stronger."

Lazarus steepled his fingers. "A reasonable request. But securing those sites is no small task. What are you offering in return?"

Frank didn't hesitate. "Weapons technology. Our engineers have been refining old-world firearms, enhancing them for use against supernatural threats. You've got magic—we have hardware. Together, we're unstoppable."

Lazarus smiled slowly. "I do like the sound of that."

Frank nodded. "Then we start negotiations. Tonight."

Lazarus leaned back, pleased. "Agreed."

As the conversation continued, Ariel cast one last glance at the retreating figure of the masked woman.

She didn't know what was more dangerous.

The assassin who had come for her in the night.

Or the seeds of doubt being planted in Violet's mind.

O