— Sir, the Council is ready to begin its meeting. — Zane says after knocking on the open door of Mr. Sutherland's office.

— Thank you. Do you have everything with you?

— Yes sir.

— So let's go.

They walked through the Atlantis Hotel lounge, heading straight for the elevator, hundreds of eyes following their steps. The citizens of Berkshire were aware of the impending, well-announced war in the North, and how close it was coming to the city, but they also knew how hard Brock was trying to keep everything under control.

They trusted the Sutherland family so much that they kept working. They tried not to let their fear show.

As soon as the double black doors were opened by Zane, all murmurs ceased, as the Council members stared at Brock.

— It’s good to know that all we needed to see some old familiar faces was a lunatic coming our way with an army of mercenaries after all. — Brock greeted them sarcastically as he sat down in his chair opposite everyone else, with Zane standing beside him. — I hope to have this sorted out by the end of the day, if possible.

—What is he doing here? He doesn't belong in this room. — Susan Byrd hissed.

— This, Mrs. Byrd, is a decision I must make. In light of recent events, Zane will be my personal assistant for the time being.

—What recent events? Caelan is quiet and- — an older man, far away from him, asked as he adjusted his glasses.

—Yesterday, in an attempt to find Tyr Thornfell, three of my men were also ambushed and severely injured.

— We got some footage from a camera that, unbelievably, was still working… — Zane finishes his explanation as he turns on a projector to show the council.

The scene was frightening.

At least forty wolves attacked the men at once.

The attacks were brutal.

— Isn't that Casey? — asked another member.

— Yes. Those were Casey, Barlow, and Damion. — Zane replied. — Tyr has been missing for over a week.

— I got in touch with an old friend of mine down South and heard some interesting news. — Brock took a sip of water. — It seems that your husband, Mrs. Byrd, not only stole a large sum of money from my company, but he also tried to bribe Josiah, the leader of Mendraria, into giving him protection. From me. That must mean something, don’t you think, Mrs. Byrd?

— I… What… What nonsense are you making up? My husband never-.

— Your husband embezzled nearly two hundred million last year alone. That’s how he got his family that mansion, as well as the fancy car, clothes, and his… — Zane pointed his fingers at the older woman. — Diamonds.

The projector began to show the members all the documents, photographs, and countless pieces of evidence. Slowly, the murmurs began.

— And there's more. It was confirmed that his daughter had hired a former soldier, a famous sniper, to kill Moon Bexley, out of pure jealousy for never having had a chance with Gray Sutherland.

— Listen here, boy-

— And now, as you can all see here, this is you, Mrs. Byrd, having a conversation with Caelan Cerdaville two weeks ago. I can’t say I know what you two were talking about, but… Such a meeting should have been announced to this council. Oh, I almost forgot… This clip here is you trying to frame me yesterday. — Zane finished his speech, returning to his place next to Mr. Sutherland.

— Where did you get that?

— Dafoe is a great man, Mrs. Byrd. Incorruptible. — Brock stood up, walked towards his seat, and placed a copy of all the legal evidence and forms. — As of this moment, Mrs. Byrd, your family is exiled from the South and the East. You are no longer welcome here in Berkshire or any other city that is allied with us. Sketch is ready, there at the entrance, waiting for you. She will accompany you to Lora, where you will meet your husband and daughter, and from there, you will be guided to the borders. — Brock spoke calmly. — Your mansion will be transformed into a shelter, a home for those in need. All the clothes inside that place, jewelry, and cars will be sold to raise money that will be used to build what this city needs most right now. Zane. — he turned to the man, nodding at him.

— Right. Although you are exempt from the punishment of exile, some of you are no longer part of this council. As I say your name, please step down from your position and leave this room. — Zane takes a sheet of paper from his briefcase and begins to read, name after name, people begin to step down from their chairs.

Some accept defeat in silence, knowing better than to say that even though they are no longer members, they still have the safety of their hometown. Others curse loudly, remaining impassive, proud, and unable to admit their mistakes.

— What now? — a familiar voice asks at the door. — You told me to be quiet. I was very quiet. You told me not to go after my friends, and I fought myself not to. Now you asked me to come and here I am. — Gus’s voice was loud, full of anger. — What now?

— Now, son, let's get ready. — Brock leaned back in his chair, looking at the boy.

— I'm a dynami, I'm ready since-

— Not physically, Gus. — Arthur’s voice could be heard behind them, breathless as always. — Mentally. You have to know everything. We can’t make any mistakes from now on.

— Go ahead. Speak, now.

Zane chuckled, gathering his things.

— I'll be upstairs. See you.

Gus stared at Arthur for a few moments.

— I’m waiting.

— Improve your attitude… Here… — Arthur threw him a dark blue folder. — Read this. Everything you need to know is in there. I'm not going to explain anything to a stubborn, ungrateful, and somewhat irritated guy. — Arthur left, pushing him aside.

Gus clenched his fists as he watched Arthur walk away, his chest burning with anger and something else, something he insisted on ignoring.

“How can he be so annoying?”

The folder in his hands was almost forgotten in the whirlwind of feelings that consumed him. But irritation wasn't the only thing there.

— You think you can just throw that crap at me and walk away like that? — Gus snapped, his voice thick with something he couldn’t name.

Arthur stopped his body tensing as if he had expected this. He turned slowly, his eyes shining with a mixture of frustration and something deep.

— What did you say? — Arthur asked, his voice deep, each word sounding like a challenge.

Gus took a step toward him, his heart racing wildly. The air between them felt thick.

— I want to know what the hell I did to you for you to treat me like that. — Gus retorted.

There was something else there, something he could no longer contain.

Arthur stepped forward, closing the distance between them with a swiftness that made Gus’s stomach churn. They stood so close that Gus could feel the heat emanating from his body, and Arthur’s ragged breathing echoed against the skin of his neck.

— And what are you going to do, Gus? — Arthur growled softly, his eyes darkening.

Gus tried to respond, and tried to maintain control. It was as if every cell was being pulled toward Arthur. He could smell Arthur's skin, and his mind gave in a little more.

— Don't provoke me… — Gus whispered, his voice hoarser than he intended, his eyes fixed on Arthur's, who didn't back down, as if he had been waiting for it.

Arthur laughed softly, without humor.

For a second, Gus didn't know whether to advance or retreat. His breathing was ragged. They were both trapped in that moment, a mixture of anger and fear holding them back.

Then, as if something finally snapped, Gus pushed him away, harder than he intended, and the two of them were left staring at each other, the tension still vibrating between them, stronger than ever.

— Just read that shit, Gus.

Without saying anything else, he turned and walked away.

— Come back here, you son of a-

— It's my son, Rothery. Don't call him names.

— Excuse me, sir.

— What was that, exactly? — Brock crossed his arms, eyes fixed on the younger man.

— It was nothing, sir… I'll read this as quickly as possible. Excuse me… — Gus tried to walk quickly, bumping into several chairs and even tripping at the door.

Brock laughed at the sight. It was rare for someone to still be intimidated by him.

— If it's what I think it is, that's quite a gossip for my wife… — Brock muttered, laughing. — Oh, Reese will love it too…

— Sir, I have some news.

—Always a shadow, huh, Dafoe?

— If there is a better way to live, then please tell me.

— What was it this time?

— It seems that Huxley has been shot and is being treated by a doctor in Mendraria. The doctor's methods are… somewhat unique. But he is strong. He will survive.

— A shot? — Brock tilted his head. It wouldn't make sense, but… Ada?

— Ada.

— Why?

— Lady Patricia is alive. And emanating hatred.