The wind on the cliffside was sharper now, colder than it had been three months ago when the four of them last stood here. Back then, they'd walked away with the satisfaction of knowing the A.A.S. Academy was gone for good. Now, that satisfaction felt fragile — like glass you could see through but not trust to hold weight.
Leo leaned against the rusted railing, scanning the horizon. Below, the ocean rolled in slow, dark swells. Ava stood beside him, silent, her hands buried in her jacket pockets. Jack sat on a low wall behind them, chewing on a protein bar and pretending he wasn't watching every movement they made. Eleanor stood further back, her phone pressed to her ear.
She hung up. "Another hit."
Leo turned. "Where?"
"Berlin," she said. "One of our resistance contacts. Found dead in a safehouse. No signs of forced entry, no camera footage, and only one bullet to the heart."
"That's the fourth one this month," Ava said.
"Fifth," Eleanor corrected. "And it's not random."
Jack finished his bar and tossed the wrapper into the wind. "I told you this was coming. We tore the Academy apart, but we didn't erase everything it built. Somebody's cleaning house — and not for us."
Leo felt the unease settle in his gut. "Who?"
Eleanor's eyes were cold. "Black Division."
---
He'd heard the name before — in whispers in the Academy corridors, in coded messages that the instructors didn't think the trainees could read. The Black Division was a shadow within the shadow: a faction so secret even most of A.A.S. didn't know it existed.
"Thought they were just a rumor," Jack muttered.
Eleanor shook her head. "I wish they were. They're ex-A.A.S. who thought the Academy was too soft. They went rogue years ago. No oversight, no rules. Just contracts and kill lists."
"And now they're targeting our people," Ava said.
"Not just ours," Eleanor replied. "Anyone who worked with the Academy in the past — allies, enemies, informants. They're erasing the past. Wiping the slate clean so they can take control of what's left."
---
That night, they met in the bunker. The air inside was damp, lit only by the low hum of emergency lights. Maps and data feeds flickered on the central screen, showing dots that marked the locations of the recent killings.
"Berlin, Hong Kong, Lagos, Buenos Aires, and now London," Eleanor said, pointing to each dot. "Different continents, same M.O. — one shot to the heart, clean extraction, no trace."
Jack leaned back in his chair. "Sounds like they've got one hell of a sniper."
"It's not just one person," Leo said. "The timing doesn't match up. Some of these hits happened hours apart on opposite sides of the world. This is a coordinated unit."
Ava's eyes narrowed. "Which means they've rebuilt faster than we thought."
---
They got their first lead two days later.
A resistance scout intercepted a coded transmission in Marseille. Most of it was encrypted beyond recognition, but one phrase came through clearly: Phoenix Ash.
Leo sat forward. "What's Phoenix Ash?"
Eleanor's expression hardened. "An old A.A.S. contingency plan. We never knew the full details — just that it was meant to 'reset' the playing field if the organization ever collapsed."
Jack crossed his arms. "Reset? Sounds like a nice way of saying 'burn everything down.'"
"Exactly," Eleanor said. "If the Black Division's activating it… we're looking at something big."
---
The Marseille lead took them to an abandoned warehouse on the docks. The place smelled of rust and saltwater. The floor was littered with shattered crates and old fishing nets.
"Clear left," Jack said quietly, sweeping his rifle across the shadows.
Leo moved ahead, knife in hand. Ava covered the rear, her pistol steady. Eleanor stayed in the middle, scanning for movement.
They found him on the second floor — a man in a torn leather jacket, slumped against a wall, bleeding from a chest wound. His eyes widened when he saw Leo.
"You… you're him," the man rasped.
Leo crouched. "Do I know you?"
"They said… you'd come. She said you'd understand."
"Who?"
The man's bloodied hand reached into his jacket and pulled out a small, scorched metal pendant — a black hawk engraved with a single word: Seraphine.
Leo froze.
"She's… waiting for you," the man whispered, and then his head slumped forward.
---
The others were watching him.
"Seraphine?" Ava asked.
Leo's mouth was dry. "She's my mother."