The Wolf at the Door-

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound was soft. Measured. But in the silence of the room, it might as well have been thunder.

Keiran's breath slowed. His muscles tensed.

On the other side of the door, Kennedy was waiting.

A predator at the threshold.

Vael's fingers twitched near his belt, where a hidden blade lay strapped. Selara had already slipped into the shadows by the window, barely visible against the dim candlelight.

The three of them locked eyes.

A silent decision.

Keiran stepped forward.

Click.

He turned the handle and pulled the door open.

Kennedy stood there, framed by the dim torchlight of the hallway.

His usual grin was there, sharp as ever, but his eyes—his eyes were watching too closely. Calculating.

He knows something.

Keiran leaned against the doorframe, forcing himself to look relaxed. "Didn't take you for the type to visit."

Kennedy chuckled. "Didn't take you for the type to break the rules."

A beat of silence.

Keiran's fingers curled against the wood.

"I don't know what you mean."

Kennedy tilted his head. "That so?"

He stepped forward. Keiran didn't move.

From behind him, Vael's breathing was even, controlled. Selara was utterly still.

Kennedy's gaze flickered inside the room—then back to Keiran.

"There was a mistake last night," Kennedy murmured.

Keiran didn't blink.

"A miscount," Kennedy continued. "Someone stayed behind. And yet, this morning, when we counted again, the numbers were correct."

A slow smile crept up Kennedy's face.

"Strange, isn't it?"

Keiran met his gaze, forcing his voice to remain even. "Sounds like a clerical error."

Kennedy's grin widened.

Then, suddenly—he laughed.

A genuine, amused laugh.

"Oh, Keiran," he sighed, shaking his head. "You're good. You're really good."

His eyes gleamed as he leaned in slightly.

"But not good enough."

Keiran didn't move.

Kennedy tapped a single finger against Keiran's chest.

"I like you," Kennedy mused. "You've got a spine. That's rare here."

A pause.

"But spines?" Kennedy whispered, voice turning colder. "Spines snap."

The candle flickered.

Keiran's throat was dry.

Then—

Kennedy stepped back.

The tension in the air didn't fade. If anything, it thickened.

"You should get some sleep, Keiran," Kennedy said cheerfully. "Wouldn't want you too tired for work."

A wink.

Then he turned, strolling down the hallway.

Keiran shut the door.

Locked it.

Then exhaled.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

Then Vael muttered, "Well. That was subtle."

Keiran pushed a hand through his hair. "He knows."

Selara moved away from the window, arms crossed. "Not everything. If he did, he wouldn't be playing games."

Keiran shook his head. "Kennedy plays with his pray before he kills it."

Vael scoffed. "We should've taken him out."

Keiran shot him a look. "That would only prove we're guilty."

Silence settled over them again.

Then Selara murmured, "We don't have time."

Keiran glanced at her. "What do you mean?"

She looked at him, eyes serious.

"Armon."

Keiran's jaw clenched.

"He's already suspicious," Selara continued. "Kennedy's watching us. We need to move before we lose our chance."

She turned to Vael. "You need to control your fire."

Vael tensed. "I can control it."

"Not enough," Selara said sharply. "Not to take on Armon."

Keiran exhaled, rubbing his temples. "Then we move up the timeline."

Vael frowned. "How soon?"

Keiran exhaled slowly, fingers curled into fists. The tension in the room was suffocating.

Selara paced near the window, arms crossed. Vael leaned against the wall, eyes narrowed in thought.

Keiran finally spoke. "We move tonight."

Both of them turned to him.

"We test the tunnel."

The evening turned to night. A thick mist clung to the streets, swallowing every trace of movement.

The streets were asleep, bathed in cold moonlight. The town stretched in silence, guards stationed at key points, their eyes sharp even at this hour.

Keiran, Vael, and Selara moved like whispers through the alleyways, avoiding lantern light, careful to step only where the dirt wouldn't betray them.

Reaching the edge of town was the easy part.

Getting to the factory was harder.

A single road connected the town to the factory. No cover. No shortcuts. Just an open path, patrolled by guards.

Keiran muttered, "We need a distraction."

Vael smirked. "I have one."

He raised a hand, and in the distance, a small burst of flames flickered behind a house. It was nothing major—just enough to cast a glow, to catch the eye.

And it worked.

The nearest guard turned, stepping away from the road, attention pulled toward the light.

In that instant, the trio sprinted. Silent. Swift. Invisible.

They reached the factory wall and pressed against the cold steel.

Selara let out a shaky breath. "We're in."

Now for the hard part.

The factory gates were locked tight. Heavy chains. Thick iron. Impenetrable.

Keiran's grip tightened. "This isn't going to work."

"I told you," Vael whispered, leading them further down the side of the factory, where old crates and barrels were stacked haphazardly. "We make our own entrance."

He crouched, pressed a hand to the metal wall.

His finger traced a slow, deliberate path—fire following his movements, searing into the steel.

Selara watched in silent awe as the metal warped and darkened, softening like wax under Vael's touch. With a light kick, the section gave way.

A small opening—just enough to crawl through.

Keiran smirked. "Show-off."

Vael grinned. "Always."

One by one, they slipped inside. Keiran was the last, pausing just long enough to drag a few crates over the hole, concealing it from the outside.

No way back now.

The factory loomed around them—empty, silent, abandoned for the night. The only sounds were the occasional creak of settling metal, the distant hum of machines cooling down after a long day's labor.

They moved carefully, avoiding any open spaces, navigating through the darkness like they had done it a hundred times before.

Keiran led the way, heading toward the stairwell leading underground.

The air grew colder as they descended.

And then, finally—

The tunnel door.

Keiran reached into his coat, pulled out the key he had risked everything for.

A slow, metallic click echoed in the silence.

The door creaked open.

And instead of a welcome—

They were met with silence.

The air inside the tunnel was thick with dust and silence. The dim, flickering lights barely illuminated the long stretch of road ahead, casting jagged shadows along the cracked walls. Vehicles, rusted and abandoned, sat to the side, their tires deflated, their windshields clouded with grime.

Keiran, Vael, and Selara stood just beyond the threshold, their breaths quiet but their bodies tense. The tunnel stretched forward, dark and uncertain.

No guards. No alarms. No movement.

Yet something about it felt… wrong.

Keiran took a slow step forward, his boots barely making a sound against the concrete floor. Vael and Selara followed closely behind, their eyes darting to every shadow.

"Why does it feel like we're walking into a trap?" Selara whispered.

"Because it might be one," Keiran muttered.

They carefully approached the abandoned vehicles. Vael placed a hand on the hood of one, feeling for any warmth—any sign that it had been used recently. Cold. Long abandoned. But when he peeked through the cracked window, he froze.

"Something's off," he murmured.

Keiran and Selara leaned in. Inside the vehicle, the seats were covered in dust, but the dashboard was wiped clean, as if someone had touched it recently. The glove compartment was slightly ajar.

Someone had been here.

Keiran felt unease clawing at his mind. He turned his attention to the walls, running a hand over the cold metal surface. Something's not right.

"Wait," he whispered. "We need to check for anything hidden—traps, alarms, anything."

Selara nodded and pulled out a small piece of chalk from her pocket. She marked the ground near the entrance, leaving a symbol only they would recognize.

Vael crouched, inspecting the floor. A small metal groove ran along the tunnel's length. It looked like an old rail system, but something about it felt unnatural—almost as if it had been deliberately covered up.

"There's something beneath us," Vael muttered.

"Don't push our luck," Keiran said. "Let's keep moving."

They kept their steps light as they moved further in. The tunnel curved slightly, leading them past more abandoned vehicles and storage crates covered in thick dust. Then—

A door.

It was barely visible, rusted into the wall like it had been forgotten by time. Keiran hesitated before gripping the handle and pulling. It groaned, reluctant to move.

Inside was a small control room—ancient machines and panels flickered weakly. Old blueprints were scattered across the table, brittle and yellowed. Selara grabbed one, her eyes scanning over the faded ink.

"This tunnel leads deeper than we thought," she whispered. "There's a junction further in—like a crossroad."

Keiran looked over her shoulder. The blueprint showed multiple paths diverging beyond this tunnel, leading to different locations. Some were marked with strange symbols—warnings, perhaps.

But before they could examine further—

A faint noise.

Not loud. Not sharp. But unmistakably real.

A shuffle. A breath. A presence.

Keiran, Vael, and Selara froze.

It came from further down the tunnel.

The three of them exchanged glances. They had been careful. Hadn't made much noise. So then—

Was something already waiting for them?

Keiran's grip on his coat tightened. "We need to go. Now."

Vael took one last look at the blueprints before stuffing them into his coat. Selara quickly erased their chalk mark by the door. They moved swiftly but silently, retracing their steps.

As they neared the exit, Keiran stole one last glance back. The tunnel was empty, still as death.

But he couldn't shake the feeling—

Something was watching.

And whatever it was, it knew they were here.