Chapter 2
That Night
After Jack left, silence fell over the house like a heavy curtain. The laughter and noise from earlier seemed like a distant memory.
Felin sat hunched in his chair, fingers interlocked, staring at the flickering lantern flame as if searching for answers inside it.
Across the room, Melin lay on the floor, eyes fixed on the ceiling, thoughts racing.
The words of Jack's father—Fedrick—still echoed in his mind, but what haunted him more was the chain he had glimpsed around Fedrick's neck.
A golden chain with a lion symbol etched into its pendant. It was the exact same chain his father once wore—the very chain Felin had told them was one of a kind.
Melin sat up slowly, his heart hammering. He turned toward his father.
"Dad… can I ask you something?"
Felin's gaze shifted. His voice was calm, but his eyes sharpened. "Go ahead."
Melin swallowed hard. "Did you ever own a gold chain… with a lion carved into it?"
The reaction was immediate. Felin's face tightened, his hands stilled mid-motion. For several seconds, he said nothing. Finally, his voice came low and strained.
"…Why are you asking that?"
"I saw it," Melin said, his words tumbling out. "Jack's dad. He was wearing it. Around his neck, when we left the hotel. You told me it was unique, but it looked exactly the same."
Felin's chair creaked as he rose to his feet. He paced once, twice, then stopped, breathing heavier now.
His voice trembled. "Are you certain, Melin? Not just similar—you're absolutely sure?"
"I'm sure," Melin replied, his fists clenched. "It was clear as day."
Felin turned away, his shoulders stiff. Memories came flooding back the blood-soaked halls of the Red Cult, the night he stole that chain when he fled, the screams of betrayal echoing in the dark.
That chain wasn't just jewelry. It was proof of his past. If Fedrick had it now, it meant only one thing: the cult hadn't forgotten.
"Listen to me, son," Felin said, voice low but urgent. He turned, his eyes burning with a mixture of fear and rage. "You must stay away from that man.
Jack may be your friend, but his father… his father is dangerous. That chain—" he touched his own neck unconsciously "—it belonged to me.
If Fedrick has it now, then he knows who I am. He knows we're alive."
"But Jack—" Melin started.
"I'm not saying stop being his friend," Felin cut him off sharply. "But be cautious. Jack may not know his father's truth, but the sins of the Red Cult… they never wash away."
At that same moment, Fedrick sat in his private office. The room was dimly lit, thick with the scent of cigar smoke. He turned the golden chain in his hands, the lion emblem catching the light.
It wasn't just an ornament. It was a trophy—and a warning.
He opened a drawer, revealing an old, faded file. Felin's face stared up from the photograph clipped inside, younger but unmistakable.
Fedrick traced the image with his thumb, his eyes cold.
"So…" he murmured to himself. "Your son is friends with my son. Fate does love irony."
He leaned back in his chair, lips curling into a smile that carried no warmth. "This time, you won't escape me, Felin."
The next morning, Felin gathered his three sons. The air was heavy, tension thick enough to choke on. He looked at each of them in turn, his expression grave.
"There are truths I've kept hidden from you," he began. "Truths about who I once was… about what I ran from."
Celin frowned. "Father, what do you mean?"
Felin's voice cracked for the first time. "I mean we may no longer be safe here. We may have to leave everything—again."
Melin stepped forward, fists clenched, determination blazing in his eyes. "No, Father. Let me handle this. I'll find out what Fedrick knows. I'll protect us."
Felin's heart twisted with pride and dread. He placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "You're brave, Melin. But bravery without caution is death.
The Red Cult destroys everything in its path. Never underestimate them."
Melin didn't flinch. "Then I'll find a way to stop them. No matter what it takes."
The Flight
Before dawn, San-Jamb City was already alive with whispers and shadows.
The air was heavy with the smell of smoke and oil from the markets.
Inside a small, hidden apartment, Felin moved with urgency.
He stuffed their belongings into a worn leather bag, his heartbeat echoing like a drum in his ears. They couldn't stay. Not with Fedrick so close. Not with the cult already sniffing their trail.
"Wake the others," he told Melin. His voice was steady, but his eyes betrayed the storm raging inside.
Within minutes, Celin and Kelin stood groggy but ready.
Their mother leaned on Felin's arm, her silent presence grounding him. Melin looked back once at the place they had called home, his chest tightening.
He clenched his fists and followed.
They slipped into the alleys, avoiding the main streets, the hotel district, and the crowded markets.
Felin's old instincts guided him through back routes, hidden paths known only to those who once lived in the shadows.
But San-Jamb City had changed—and so had the Red Cult.
What Felin didn't know was that the hunt had already begun.
An informant's eyes had spotted them. A signal had been sent.
By the time they reached the railway yard, the morning air was alive with sirens. Motorcycles roared in the distance, tires screeching. Red flares cracked the sky, casting an ominous glow over the streets.
Felin's eyes widened. He pulled his children close.
"They've found us. RUN!"
They sprinted across the gravel and broken fences, weaving through rusted shipping crates.
Melin held his mother close, shielding her as bullets cracked in the distance.
Bang!
A warning shot split the sky.
"Keep going!" Felin roared. His decision was already made. "I'll lead them away!"
"No, Dad!" Melin cried, reaching out.
But Felin had already bolted, his feet pounding against the dirt, his figure swallowed by the fog.
He ran with the desperation of a man who had outrun death once before. Vaulting over crates, weaving through broken walls, he pushed his body to the limit.
For a fleeting moment, hope surged. Maybe—just maybe—he could lose them.
Then he turned a corner
And froze.
Five men in red hoods stood waiting, blocking his escape. Their leader stepped forward. Fedrick.
"Well," he said softly, almost amused. "After all these years, the lion finally returns to his den."
Felin's chest heaved, but his eyes burned with defiance. He didn't resist as two men shackled his wrists, chains biting into his skin.
"You thought you could vanish forever?" Fedrick whispered close to his ear. "You should've stayed buried."
Felin met his gaze without flinching. "You'll never touch my sons."
Fedrick smirked, his voice like poison. "We'll see."
Melin's heart shattered as he caught one last glimpse of his father, swallowed by the mist and the shadows of the cult.
He wanted to chase after him, but Celin grabbed his arm with desperate strength.
"No! Don't! He did it to save us!"
Tears blurred Melin's vision. His chest burned with fury, grief, and something deeper. "I won't let them win," he swore under his breath. "I'll bring him back… even if I have to tear the Red Cult apart with my own hands."
The brothers guided their mother through a forgotten tunnel beneath the tracks, escaping into the countryside.
Felin's plan had worked. His family was safe—for now.
But he was gone.
And the only way to save him was to step into the heart of the Red Cult itself.
To Be Continued…