The Millfield Town Hall, by day a sleepy bastion of bureaucracy, transformed by night into a fortress of secrets. At 7:45 PM, its main doors were locked, the lobby dark. A single, discreet side entrance, usually reserved for deliveries, stood slightly ajar, emitting a sliver of yellow light.
From the shadows of the bandstand across the town square, Alex watched. Jenkins was a deeper patch of darkness beside him, his breathing slow and even. They had spent the day in a state of exhausted, wired readiness, cleaning gear, checking weapons (Jenkins had retrieved a second, smaller crossbow from another cache), and honing their fragile, desperate plan.
The plan was simple to the point of insanity: bear witness.
They couldn't storm the meeting. They couldn't stop it. But they had to know what was decided. Sheriff Walker's burner phone was a live wire in Alex's pocket, a direct line to whatever limited help she could provide from inside the system.
A black SUV with tinted windows glided to a stop at the side entrance. Jason Carver emerged, not in tactical gear but in a dark, expensive overcoat. He looked like a visiting executive, not the commander of a failed paramilitary operation. He was followed by a single aide—a woman with a severe bun and a leather portfolio. They disappeared inside.
Five minutes later, Mayor Vance's personal sedan arrived. The mayor himself scurried out, his usual bluster replaced by a nervous, furtive energy. He adjusted his tie under the streetlight and hurried in.
Finally, just before eight, a vehicle that made Alex's pulse quicken appeared: the Blackwoods' vintage, black sedan. Sebastian got out from the driver's side, his posture regal and grim. He opened the rear door for Kiera.
She stepped out into the sodium-vapor glow. She wore a tailored coat, her hair swept up. She looked every inch the nobleman's daughter attending a dreary civic function. But even from this distance, Alex could see the rigidity in her spine, the way her eyes swept the square not with curiosity, but with the assessment of a soldier scanning a battlefield. Her gaze passed over the bandstand, paused for a microsecond, and moved on. She had seen them.
Sebastian placed a guiding hand on her back—a gesture that could be paternal or custodial—and ushered her inside. The door closed behind them with a soft, definitive click.
"The lamb to the slaughter," Jenkins muttered, his voice thick with disgust.
"Or the wolf in the fold," Alex countered, hoping it was true. "She's not going in without a plan."
"Let's hope hers is better than ours," Jenkins grunted, already moving. "Come on. Time to listen."
Their way in was not through a door. It was through the town's forgotten veins. Jenkins led Alex around to the back of the building, to a rusted, ground-level grate covering a storm drain. With a practiced twist of a crowbar from his pack, he popped it open. The smell that wafted out was of damp earth and slow decay.
"The old steam tunnels," Jenkins whispered, dropping into the darkness. "They connected the major buildings back when the town thought it was going to be a resort. Mostly collapsed now. But this stretch runs right under the council chamber."
Alex followed, lowering himself into the icy, ankle-deep water. Jenkins produced a small, red-lens flashlight. The beam illuminated a brick tunnel, low and narrow, strung with ancient cobwebs and crumbling pipes. They moved in a crouch, the only sounds the slosh of their steps and the distant, ominous drip of water.
After fifty yards, Jenkins stopped. He pointed upward. A cast-iron grate was set into the tunnel's ceiling. Above it, faint, muffled voices filtered down.
Mayor Vance (nervous, conciliatory): "…deeply appreciate Veritas's continued commitment, Jason. The grant for the water treatment plant is a godsend. And the… understanding… about our unique local sensitivities…"
Carver (smooth, professional): "Of course, Richard. We're partners. Partners help each other manage… liabilities. Speaking of which, last night's incident in the northeast sector was regrettable. It demonstrates the volatility of the unchecked… ecology."
A heavy pause.
Sebastian Blackwood (voice like cold velvet): "Incident? I was informed it was an unauthorized expedition that encountered wildlife. The forest has always been unpredictable."
Carver: "It was an attempted extraction of a dangerously mutated subject, Sebastian. One that was thwarted by armed locals. This isn't 'wildlife.' This is a biohazard scenario spiraling beyond the control of your… traditional methods. The wards are failing. My team's initial analysis of the eastern post site shows catastrophic failure. The others won't last the winter."
Another pause, longer this time.
Kiera (her voice clear, controlled, cutting through the tension): "Your team's 'analysis' involved destroying the post. You're not measuring a failure, Mr. Carver. You're engineering one."
A beat of stunned silence. Alex could imagine Carver's sharp smile.
Carver: "Perceptive, Miss Blackwood. But the result is the same. The old barriers are obsolete. You're trying to hold back the tide with a sieve. I'm offering a levee. A permanent, scientific solution."
Sebastian (a warning edge in his tone): "Your 'solution' requires my daughter as a blueprint."
Carver: "It requires cooperation. Kiera's unique physiology is the key to understanding the curse's mechanism. With her voluntary participation—a series of non-invasive scans, tissue samples taken under controlled conditions—we can develop targeted suppressants. Not just for your family, but for any unfortunate 'strays' like the Greene woman. We can end the threat. Not contain it, end it."
The offer hung in the air, seductive and monstrous.
Mayor Vance (eagerly): "You could… cure them?"
Carver: "We could neutralize the transformative expression. Permanently. They could live normal, safe lives. The forest could be just a forest again. Millfield would be free."
It was the ultimate sales pitch. Safety. Normality. Freedom from fear. All for the price of Kiera's autonomy and the Covenant's total access.
Sebastian (quietly, the struggle audible): "And the guarantee? The guarantee that once you have what you need, my family is left in peace? That the… specimens… are treated with dignity?"
Carver: "You have my word, and the binding contracts of the Veritas Foundation. We are scientists, not barbarians. We seek understanding and mitigation. Kiera would be a partner in this research, not a subject."
Liar. Alex's hand clenched around a cold pipe. He'd seen the look in Carver's eyes in the hollow. It was the look of a collector assessing a rare insect, ready to pin it to a board.
Kiera: "And Lily Greene? What is your 'mitigation' for her?"
Carver's voice lost its polish, turning clinical. "The Greene subject represents an acute, feral progression. Study would be invaluable, but the primary goal would be humane pacification and the extraction of the infectious agent for study. To prevent further spread."
Humane pacification. A sterile phrase for murder.
The silence from above was profound. Alex could almost feel Sebastian's agony, the weight of centuries of guardianship warring with the promise of an end to the pain.
Sebastian, his voice breaking with a terrible finality: "Kiera… the choice… must be yours. The burden has always been yours to carry. I cannot… I will not force you."
He was abdicating. The patriarch, broken by the pressure, was passing the terrible decision to his daughter. It was both an act of love and a profound betrayal.
For a long moment, there was no sound from Kiera. Then, her voice came, calm, clear, and utterly devoid of emotion.
Kiera: "I will consider your proposal, Mr. Carver. I require time. And I have conditions."
Carver (victory, carefully muted): "Name them."
Kiera: "A complete cessation of all field operations in the Blackwood Tract until an agreement is finalized. No more drones, no more teams, no more destruction of the wards. You will provide your current research on the curse, all of it, for my review. And you will halt all pursuit of the Greene subject. She is under the protection of the Blackwood family until a… solution… is found."
She was playing. Stalling. Buying time with the only currency she had: herself.
Carver (after a calculated pause): "A moratorium on field ops is reasonable, pending our partnership. The research data can be provided. But the Greene subject is a public safety risk. She must be brought in."
Kiera: "Then we have no agreement. You cannot have one without the other. My cooperation is contingent on your restraint. Otherwise, you're just another hunter with fancier tools."
The threat was elegantly delivered. Push me, and I become as feral as the one you want.
Another pause. Carver was reassessing. He hadn't expected such steel.
Carver: "Very well. A temporary cease-fire. Seventy-two hours. You have until the end of the week to give me your answer. During that time, my teams will stand down, and the Greene subject will be left alone—provided she remains within the Tract and causes no harm. After that, the offer changes."
The ultimatum was set. Seventy-two hours.
Mayor Vance (relieved): "So we have a path forward! Good, good. Sebastian, Kiera… this is for the best. For everyone."
The meeting was breaking up. Pleasantries were exchanged, footsteps moved toward the door.
Under the grate, Jenkins touched Alex's arm. His face in the red light was etched with grim satisfaction. "She bought you three days, boy. Three days to find a lost girl and maybe pull a miracle out of your ass."
They retreated back down the tunnel, the voices fading above them. Kiera had thrown herself on the wire, using herself as a bargaining chip to create a window. A tiny, closing window.
As they emerged into the cold night air behind the town hall, Alex's burner phone vibrated once. A text from Walker: "Meeting adjourned. Carver not happy but compliant. Vance is elated. Sebastian looks like a ghost. Kiera… unreadable. What now?"
Alex looked at the dark bulk of the Blackwood forest, then at the lights of the town that had just agreed, in all but name, to sell its soul. He typed back: "Now we hunt. Not for the Covenant. For Lily. We have seventy-two hours to find her before the wolves and the men decide her fate for her."
The real race had just begun. And the finish line was a choice—for Lily, for Kiera, and for the soul of Millfield itself—that was now hurtling towards them with the speed of a falling moon.