Kali was relishing the palpable tension in the room, everyone had a terrified look on their face; even the elders were paying the utmost attention to her brother. There was no need to demand attention—something about the presence of the pair of siblings commanded it effortlessly. No one dared to move, to breathe too loudly, or to even exchange glances. It wasn’t just fear—it was something deeper, a primal instinct screaming at them to obey.

But then, the chilling silence was shattered. Someone had entered the warehouse. The air grew heavier as every person in the room tensed, their quiet breathing the only sound left. In an instant, Kali flicked off the lights, immediately plunging them into darkness, just as their contingency plan dictated. Shadows swallowed them whole, their presence now nothing more than ghosts in the dim space.

Most of them hoped the intruder would assume they had wandered into an abandoned building and leave. But that hope was dashed when a sudden clatter echoed through the space, followed by a stifled sob. Whoever had entered wasn’t just lost—they were afraid.

Agatha hesitated, torn between sending someone to politely remove the intruder or intimidating them into leaving. But with the elders present, she couldn’t afford to be lax—they would see it as a weakness and question her authority.

Orpheus and Cerberus understood this all too well and took matters into their own hands.

They knew exactly what needed to be done—instill just enough fear to ensure the intruder never returned, without leaving him completely traumatized. Agatha bit back a laugh. They always worried too much about her. She was grateful when her brother, concealed in the warehouse’s shadows, deepened his voice into something rough and menacing as he demanded the stranger identify himself. Even the elders flinched at his tone, much to her amusement.

A trembling figure crawled out from behind a stack of crates near the door, eyes squeezed shut in terror. “Ah—I-I—my name is D-Do-Donovan Jones,” the boy stammered. “I—I stumbled in here by accident. Please, please let me go.”

Agatha exchanged a glance with Koray. There were strict protocols in place for dealing with intruders, especially those with malicious intent. And, unfortunately for this poor soul, they had no choice but to follow them.

As per protocol, one of the younger members would make initial contact, thus Cerberus stepped out of the dark meeting room, his mere presence enough to send another wave of panic through the already trembling boy.

Without a word, he crouched down, fingers gripping the boy’s chin just firmly enough to make him flinch. His eyes bore into Donovan’s, cold and unreadable. “Let me think about that,” he said with a small laugh of relief, already certain the intruder posed no real threat and could be handled easily.

He returned to Kali and Orpheus, to seek an answer—should they eliminate the potential risk or simply let the dainty boy go? But it didn’t take long for everyone, even the elders, to realize that this “Donovan Jones” hadn’t actually seen or heard anything important.

His sheer panic made it clear—he was too overwhelmed to process whatever was happening within the shadows. If anything, he seemed more like someone who had watched one too many crime thrillers and had let his paranoia fill in the blanks.

Even though Agatha thrived on the attention of her subordinates, she despised moments like this—when they expected her to make a decision that would define someone’s fate, and they weren’t part of The Dauntless Shadows.

Being ruthless wasn’t her passion, despite what some assumed. Yet, as the debate quieted and all eyes turned to her, she noticed the faint flicker of disappointment in some of the elders’ gazes. Did they truly expect her to give the order so carelessly? To spill blood over something so trivial?

She gave a subtle nod—calm, decisive. Cerberus understood immediately, releasing his grip just enough to signal mercy.

Some of the elders looked almost dissatisfied, as if her restraint had diminished their entertainment for the night. Agatha wanted the Earth to swallow them whole. Those who had argued that the boy needed to fear for his life—had they actually dared to question her authority?

They needed the reminder, not Donovan.

He only had to learn once never to return. A firm warning would suffice.

Rübezahl, one of the few elders she actually respected, had insisted that the most effective punishment wasn’t physical, but psychological. A lesson that would stick, unseen—a whisper in the dark, a feeling that he was never truly safe. Agatha had silently thanked him for the suggestion. Why waste blood when fear could haunt him for far longer?

With a flick of her wrist, she passed the matter over to Rübezahl, watching as he gave quiet instructions to Cerberus and Orpheus. A game of shadows and silence, nothing more.

And then, after what must have felt like an eternity for Donovan, the stillness shattered.

A voice rang out from the darkness—cold, deliberate.

“That’s a hard no. My boss won’t let you go, Donovan Jones.”

The silence stretched, suffocating, and for a second, Agatha thought the boy might actually faint. But instead, he bolted—nearly crashing into the heavy warehouse door in his desperate escape.

Agatha couldn’t help but giggle, the thrill of intimidation still buzzing beneath her skin. There was something entertaining about people’s reactions when they were truly scared, that wide-eyed moment of pure panic. But as she watched Donovan disappear into the night, a flicker of guilt brushed against her amusement.

Did he really deserve that?

She dismissed the thought just as quickly. The others didn’t give her the chance to dwell on it anyway. As soon as Donovan was gone, murmurs rippled through the room, voices dripping with impatience. Back to business.

The midnight air had begun to creep in, a chill seeping through the warehouse. Rübezahl adjusted his coat, subtle but telling. That was enough of a reason for Agatha to end things. With a casual wave, she dismissed the meeting, cutting off any further discussion.

Still, not everyone got to leave just yet.

As people shuffled toward the exit, Agatha’s sharp gaze lingered on Orpheus and Cerberus—just for a second, just enough to make it clear. Then, stifling a yawn, she turned to her brother. “Stay back. We need to talk.”

Koray exhaled, already knowing exactly what she was about to say. He leaned slightly closer, his voice calm but certain. “I don’t think he could have heard anything, Agatha.”

She hated moments like this. The uncertainty, the loose ends. But she also hated how much of her own enjoyment had been wrapped up in the spectacle. Still, that didn’t mean she’d ignore the small detail only she had noticed.

“I know, I know. But I am still allowed to worry,” she sighed. “He was scared, he must have known we aren’t exactly doing legal stuff. Plus, what if he recognized me? I’ve seen him on campus!”

Koray patted her head in the same reassuring way he had when they were kids. Agatha always claimed to hate it, but he knew it still worked just as well as it had back then. “We could see him,” he reminded her, his voice calm. “But you know our parents made sure no one can see inside when the lights are off.”

“I guess… If he had, he’d probably be wondering why his beloved Agatha was here,” she said with a nervous laugh, using humor to mask her unease. Some time ago, she had mentioned to her brother that a guy on campus always seemed to be watching her group of friends. Koray had dismissed her worries with a teasing remark—that the guy probably had a crush on her, and the joke had stuck ever since.

“…And how he could save her from the dark warehouse they both stumbled into,” she added, playing along, though her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“That’s the guy who’s crushing on you? He’s so—” Koray paused, his expression unreadable. Agatha couldn’t tell if he was intrigued or if something was bothering him again. “—dainty. And you’re so authoritative. Not a great match.”

Agatha giggled, unsure if he was genuinely judging or just searching for a fancier word. “You know that’s not the point, Koray.”

The fact that she used his name didn’t go unnoticed—she was more concerned than she let on. Sensing this, Orpheus quickly shifted gears. “Oh, but don’t worry, I know how to make you feel better! Caelus—wait, I’m supposed to use his code name—Cerberus mentioned Donovan had a stamp from The Star Fall,” he said with a smirk. “We can spike his drink, make him forget all about this little incident. Not even his fear will linger.”

Agatha closed her eyes, nodding slowly as she wrestled with the thought of just finishing the job and killing him off. Why had Donovan wandered into the warehouse, right when the elders were there?