Page 102 of Cursed

“Of course, Father,” Bastian replied. “It’s been too long since you sent us into a Sage’s nest…”

“Discretion is paramount,” Lucian snapped. His pale gaze pierced through us. “Messana is crawling with rats who are loyal to the Council. We cannot afford errors.”

Valen spoke next, his voice low and steady. “What if he refuses, Father? What if he has protections in place?”

“Then you will break them,” Lucian replied, his tone flat and unyielding. “Your skills are sufficient. Do not let his defenses lull you into complacency. And remember: failure is not an option.”

The weight of his ultimatum settled over my shoulders.

“Understood,” I said finally, forcing the words past my lips as tension coiled tighter around my throat.

Valen nodded, as did Bastian, and I could see the eagerness in my youngest brother’s eyes.

He was always hungry to flex his dark powers—especially where the Sages were concerned.

“We won’t disappoint you,” Bastian said. “He’ll never see us coming.”

“Good,” Lucian said in a voice that was full of dark satisfaction. “It must be done before dawn. Prepare yourselves accordingly.”

He rested his elbows on his desk, fingers steepled in front of him. The ominous red glow of the orb at his shoulder painted his moonlit hair a sickening shade of crimson and deepened the hollows in his angular face.

I approached the desk and held out my hand for our instructions.

Lucian’s gaze held mine for a moment before he selected one of the parchment scrolls on his desk and set it into my hand.

A fat, black wax seal, marked with the Romano seal, was affixed to the scroll. An official command. I snapped it with my thumb and unrolled the parchment.

“It contains all necessary information for your mission,” Lucian said, not bothering to elaborate further. The stoic line of his mouth didn’t waver as he added, “Remember, we do not exist in the mercy of time. This task has the utmost priority over everything else.”

I nodded, re-rolled the parchment, and tucked it into my jacket pocket. Everything from a target’s name to their preferred breakfast was likely inked on that page with sharp precision.

Valen’s dark eyes narrowed minutely as he watched me put away the parchment. His swift shifts from brotherly camaraderie to calculating wariness were unnerving, but I knew I could count on him when it mattered.

Bastian was already turning on his heel, moving towards the exit of the study. His steps were quick and light, not his usual careless saunter. There was an eagerness in his pace that left tendrils of unease curling in my gut.

Valen and I followed Bastian’s lead, and the door swung closed behind us and the ominous thud of it echoed through the hallway as we strode toward the foyer.

“Are the bikes ready?” Bastian asked, without looking back over his shoulder.

“Of course they are.” Valen clearly wasn’t in the mood for whatever Bastian was trying to do.

But Bastian laughed. “Don’t get pissy, I’m just asking.”

“When have the bikesnotbeen ready?” Valen growled.

We didn’t have time for this. “Shut up, both of you.”

Bastian chuckled as he flicked his wrist and gestured toward the front door. It swung open without hesitation and we stepped out of the house and into the gathering darkness. Clouds swirled over the estate and hid the colors of the sunset, but that wasn’t new.

It was always dark here.

Lucian liked it that way.

At least it wasn’t raining.

As promised, the bikes were ready—tuned and gleaming—Valen spent all his time in the garage for a reason.

I gathered my belongings with a mechanical precision. Each item I tucked away into my bag had a purpose—we would need more than magic to bind a Sage… especially a member of the Council.

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