The tavern had been quiet for exactly twenty-three minutes since Lucian played the recording.

No one had moved much. Cora stood by the window, her hand still on her sword, her eyes fixed on the square below. Mason had stopped cleaning his gun and was just holding it, his knuckles white. Derek sat on the edge of a cot, his staff across his knees, his ghosts hovering closer than before, like they could feel his fear.

Dr. Blackwood had materialized near the door, his translucent face turned toward the wall, listening.

"We should leave," Derek said. "Now."

Cora didn’t turn. "And go where?"

"Back to Ashford. We have the recording. That’s what we came for."

"That’s not all we came for."

Sera looked up from her gun. "What else is there?"

"Voss. She’s still out there. If we leave now, we lose her."

Mason shook his head. "We don’t even know if she’s still in town."

"She was here an hour ago."

"People move."

Cora finally turned. Her face was tight, frustrated. "So we just run? We have proof of a conspiracy to tear down the Veil and we just... leave?"

Lucian stood. He’d been sitting in the corner, back to the wall, eyes closed. Now he opened them.

"We leave when I say we leave."

Cora’s jaw tightened. "And when is that?"

"Now."

He walked to the door. The others followed.

---

The street outside was empty.

The merchants were gone. The vampires had retreated. The only light came from a few lanterns hanging outside closed shops, their flames guttering in the cold wind.

Lucian led the way, keeping to the shadows, his footsteps silent. The team stayed close—Cora at his right, Mason at his left, Sera and Derek behind. They moved fast but not rushed, their breaths fogging in the air.

"The sewer entrance is at the east end of town," Lucian said. "We get there, we follow it out, we rendezvous with the van."

"How far?" Derek asked.

"Ten minutes."

"Ten minutes is a long time."

"Then don’t waste it talking."

They turned a corner. The street ahead was wider, lined with buildings that looked abandoned. Windows were boarded. Doors were chained. A single lantern hung from a post at the far end, its light weak and flickering.

Derek’s ghosts drifted behind them, their cold presence a comfort and a warning.

Then one of them screamed.

Not loud—a sharp, short sound, like a bird caught in a trap. Derek spun. The ghost—one of the newer ones, a woman he’d summoned at the Springs—was flickering, her form unstable, her eyes wide.

"What’s wrong?" Derek asked.

The ghost pointed.

At the end of the street, standing in the shadow of the lantern, was a demon.

Not a thrall. Not a half-blood. A full demon, tall and broad, its skin the color of rust, its horns curving back from its temples. The same demon from the meeting. The one who had spoken in a voice like a bell.

It was looking right at them.

No—not at them. At the ghosts.

Its eyes tracked their movements, followed their flickering forms. Its mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

"Voss said you’d come," it said. Its voice was low, resonant, carrying across the empty street. "She said the ghosts would be the first thing I’d see."

Derek’s blood went cold. "It can see them."

"All demons can see spirits," Dr. Blackwood said. "But this one... this one was looking."

The demon raised its hand.

Behind it, shapes moved in the shadows. The vampire lord, his pale face emerging from the dark. The werewolf alpha, his yellow eyes glowing. The witch, her green robes trailing on the ground. The revenant, its bandages rustling. And others—lesser demons, thralls, mercenaries.

"They prepared for us," Cora said.

"Of course they did," Lucian replied. "Run."

---

They ran.

Cora was first, her phase carrying her through a stack of crates that blocked the alley. Mason followed, his gauntlets glowing as he pulled heat from the air. Sera fired a bolt behind her—not aiming, just slowing the pursuit. Derek’s ghosts swarmed around him, a shield of cold and panic.

The demon didn’t chase. It watched.

The vampire lord was faster.

He appeared in front of Cora, his hand reaching for her throat. She phased through it, spun, and kicked his knee. He stumbled, but didn’t fall. His speed was unnatural, his movements jerky and smooth at the same time.

"Left!" Sera shouted.

Cora ducked. A bolt whistled past her head and struck the vampire lord in the shoulder. He hissed, but didn’t stop.

Mason raised his hand. A wall of heat blossomed between them and the pursuing pack—not fire, just pressure, just enough to slow them down. The werewolf alpha snarled, his fur singed, but he pushed through.

"That won’t hold them," Mason said.

"Didn’t need to hold them," Lucian said. "Just slow them."

They turned another corner. The sewer entrance was ahead—a grate set into the ground, rusted and heavy.

Cora reached it first. She grabbed the bars, pulled. Nothing. "It’s locked."

"Move."

Lucian’s blade came down. The lock shattered. Cora lifted the grate.

"Go."

She dropped into the dark.

---

Derek was last.

His ghosts swarmed around him, slowing the werewolf alpha, freezing the vampire lord’s feet to the ground. But the demon—the one who had seen them—hadn’t moved. It stood at the end of the street, watching.

"You’re making this harder than it needs to be," it called.

Derek didn’t answer.

He sent Dr. Blackwood toward the alpha. The ghost materialized in front of the beastkin, solid enough to block his charge, cold enough to make him recoil. The alpha snarled, swiped, but Dr. Blackwood was already gone.

"Keep running," the ghost said.

Derek ran.

He reached the grate, dropped through, and landed in cold water up to his knees. The others were ahead, their footsteps splashing through the dark.

Behind him, the demon’s voice echoed down the tunnel.

"Three months. Tell your masters. Tell them we’re coming."

Then the grate slammed shut.

---

They didn’t stop until the water was up to their waists and the tunnel had branched twice.

Mason raised a hand, a small flame flickering to light, casting shadows on the wet walls. Sera was reloading, her hands steady. Cora leaned against the wall, breathing hard. Derek stood apart, his ghosts gathered close.

"That was too close," he said.

"Too close is still alive," Cora replied.

Lucian was already walking. "We’re not out yet. Keep moving."

They followed him into the dark.

Behind them, the town of rogues and outcasts grew smaller, the sounds of pursuit fading. But the demon’s words stayed with them, cold and heavy.

Three months.

They had three months to prepare. Three months to warn the Guard. Three months to stop the Veil from falling.

And somewhere above, in the shadows of the alley, Voss watched them go and said nothing.