Chapter 9
Hernandez stepped into the dimly lit room, closing the door behind him with a heavy thud. The air was thick with the scent of blood and sweat. At the center of the room, tied securely to a wooden chair, was the female assailant.
She looked up as he entered, a smirk curling on her split lip. “How the tables have turned,” she said mockingly, her voice smooth despite the bruises forming on her face.
Hernandez’s eyes darkened. “Atropos.”
The name carried weight—familiarity, resentment, and something deeper.
Atropos tilted her head, feigning innocence. “Ah, so you do remember me.”
He stepped closer, his fists clenched. “How did you cross the Great Barrier?” His voice was sharp, each word edged with fury. “How did you find Wang? How many of you were there?”
Atropos chuckled. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Hernandez struck her across the face, the sound echoing off the stone walls. Her head snapped to the side, but when she turned back to face him, her grin remained.
“You’re wasting your time,” she whispered.
Hernandez’s patience was wearing thin. “Damn it Atropos, Why are you doing this?”
"Doing what?"
He leaned in, his voice now a low growl. “Why are you following a false king? He has no mantle, no legitimacy. He is nothing.”
Atropos spat blood onto the floor, then laughed. “False king?” she sneered. “You sound like a druid, babbling about destiny and legitimacy.”
Hernandez growled. “You’re a Lycán! Your loyalty should be to the true ruler, the one chosen by the mantle.”
“The mantle?” Atropos scoffed. “A relic. Power decides the throne, not some outdated ritual.”
The argument escalated.
Before Hernandez could lash out again, a voice cut through the tension.
“Sorry to interrupt your torture,” a young woman said dryly.
Hernandez turned to see Isabella leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.
“Not now,” Hernandez snapped.
“There’s an emergency,” Isabella said.
His jaw tightened. “What emergency?”
Isabella simply turned and walked away. Hernandez exhaled sharply, throwing one last glare at Atropos before following her out of the room.
In the hallway, he caught up to Isabella. “Well?”
She stopped, glancing at him over her shoulder. “Kenny’s gone.”
The words sent a chill through him.
Hernandez’s voice dropped into a snarl. “What?!”
“He’s not in the house,” Isabella clarified. “No one saw him leave.”
Hernandez’s fury flared. “Who let him go?”
“Nobody.” Isabella shrugged. “He wasn’t a prisoner.”
Hernandez stormed through the halls, heading straight for Adisa’s quarters. When he found her, she was calm as ever, sitting by a burning candle.
“He’s gone,” Hernandez growled.
Adisa barely looked up. “I know.”
Hernandez bristled. “And you just let him leave?”
She finally met his gaze, her expression unreadable. “He will find his way.”
“Find his—” Hernandez cut himself off, exhaling sharply. “He is not safe.”
Adisa tilted her head. “Then you should go after him.”
Hernandez bit back his anger and turned on his heel, storming back toward the interrogation room where Atropos was still tied to the chair—
Or rather, she should have been.
The chair was empty. The ropes dangled loosely, cut.
Hernandez cursed under his breath. He spun around, barking orders as he ran through the halls. “Lock down the house! She couldn’t have gotten far!”
But after a thorough search, one thing became painfully clear—Atropos was gone.
And that meant Kenny was in danger.
Hernandez wasted no time. He left the mansion and headed straight for the only place he knew Kenny should have gone—his uncle Orvin’s house.
The ride through the town was tense, his instincts on high alert. By the time he arrived, the house was quiet, the lights dim. Hernandez knocked firmly on the door.
It was Orvin who answered. His face was weary, lined with concern. But the moment he saw Hernandez, his expression shifted to guarded curiosity.
“Hernandez?”
Hernandez stepped inside, scanning the room quickly. “Sorry to ask, have you seen Kenny?”
Orvin’s brow furrowed. “No, I thought he's still missing!”
A pit formed in Hernandez’s stomach. “Yes, unfortunately”
Orvin paled. “You haven't found him?”
"I'm sorry, no"
"So, why are you here?" Orvin asked emphatically
"Well, we found the lair where Kenny was being held, but we found only one of the assailants there, and he's dead."
Orvin gasped
"It's actually promising, it means it's likely Kenny escaped, perhaps on the run from the other assailant"
"Oh OK, what can I do now?"
Hernandez rubbed his hand together. “I need to know—if Kenny were free, where would he go?”
Orvin hesitated, rubbing his chin. “He has nowhere. His parents are dead. They used to live in the next town over, but he hasn’t been back since…” His voice trailed off.
Hernandez nodded. “OK, thank you, I will keep you updated.”
Orvin was still trying to process this when a voice cut through the air.
“He’s probably dead,” Nikolina said flatly.
Orvin turned sharply. “Nikolina!”
She's been sitting in the corner of the room, barely looking up from the drink in her hands. “What?” she said lazily. “If he was taken, there’s little chance he made it out alive, he is no that smart.”
Orvin’s hands clenched at his sides. “We don’t know that.”
Nikolina smirked. “Keep telling yourself that.”
Hernandez ignored her, turning back to Orvin. “If he does come back here, tell him to stay put. And if you hear anything—anything at all—you let me know.”
Orvin swallowed hard. “Of course.”
Hernandez gave him a nod, then stepped out into the night.
Kenny was out there, alone.
And so was Atropos.
That meant time was running out.