A firm knock echoed against the door. Jane barely had time to say "Come in" before Max and Lydia stepped inside.
Max's gaze swept over Jane, assessing her condition. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice light but carrying a hint of concern.
Jane sat up straighter and stretched her arms. "Great," she said with a small, confident smile.
Eva scoffed from her corner. "Yeah, I bet," she muttered, arms folded as she leaned against the wall, still silently fuming about the sheer amount of holy energy Peter had burned through earlier.
Jane chose to ignore her.
Max, oblivious to Eva's irritation, chuckled. "So, what's the plan now?"
Jane raised an eyebrow. "Plan?"
Max gestured vaguely. "Well, they've retreated for now, but it's only a matter of time before they make another move. Lydia suggested we take on another job in the meantime."
"What about you guys?" Lydia chimed in, tilting her head slightly. "Don't you still have classes or something?"
Jane sighed, rubbing her temples. "Yeah, it'd be really inconvenient to lstay right now. But what if they attack again while we're gone?"
"That's the tricky part," Max admitted, his usual carefree expression dimming slightly. "But we'll keep in close contact with the ministers. If there's any sign of another invasion, we'll be notified immediately."
Jane considered it for a moment before nodding. "I'll run it by Peter first."
"Fair enough." Max clapped his hands together. "In the meantime, how about a little exploring? This place has some cool spots."
Jane perked up. She had spent long enough lying in bed—her body craved movement. "Yeah, why not?" She swung her legs over the side and stretched lightly before standing.
"I've seen enough of this place," Eva muttered, making it clear she had no interest in a sightseeing tour.
Jane smirked. "Suit yourself." She motioned toward the door. "Lead the way."
Max grinned and started walking, his excitement evident as he talked about the mansion's hidden charms. Jane followed closely behind, while Lydia trailed a few steps back, moving slower than usual.
As they turned down a long corridor, Max glanced over his shoulder and frowned. "Lydia, what are you doing?"
Lydia didn't immediately answer. Her fingers moved swiftly over her phone screen before she finally slipped the device back into her pocket and smiled. "Just checking the time," she said casually.
Max raised an eyebrow but didn't press. "Well, hurry up, then. We don't have all day."
Lydia nodded and quickened her pace, catching up with the group.
***
Lamia's lips curled into a satisfied smile as she read the message on her screen. Without a word, she lifted her gaze and met Daeva's eyes from across the dimly lit room. A silent understanding passed between them.
Daeva, ever the picture of beauty and grace, returned the smile—a radiant, almost hypnotic expression that could make anyone forget their troubles. She then turned her attention to the man slumped in the chair before them, his head buried in his hands.
He was a president—a man who had once ruled with confidence but had since fled his country in disgrace. Shame weighed heavily on his shoulders, pressing him deeper into his seat. He had abandoned his people, taking only his wife, children, and grandchildren with him, unable to imagine his nation standing a chance against the Atlantian Legacy. The burden of his choice clung to him like a second skin.
Daeva hummed softly as she moved toward him, her steps unhurried yet deliberate. The melody was haunting, wrapping around the room like a whispered promise.
"Don't worry, sir," she purred, her voice rich and velvety, each syllable sinking into his ears like a lullaby. "Your moment will come."
The man's breath hitched. His tired, bloodshot eyes lifted to meet hers—and in an instant, they clouded over, as if a fog had rolled into his mind.
"You made the right decision," Daeva continued, her words weaving through his thoughts like silk.
His fingers twitched, his grip on doubt loosening. For the first time since he had fled, he exhaled deeply, as if surrendering to something inevitable.
***
Jane, Max, and Lydia were making their way back to the room when they spotted Peter approaching from the opposite direction. His eyes locked onto Jane, concern evident in his expression.
"Are you okay? You should be resting," Peter said, his voice edged with worry.
Jane gave him a small, reassuring smile. "I'm fine. I just wanted to stretch my legs a bit."
Peter didn't look convinced, but before he could press further, Max snickered. "Relax, Pete, she's not weak."
Peter arched a brow. "Oh? And which two people were unconscious just a few hours ago?"
Max's smirk disappeared. "Low blow," he muttered.
Peter sighed. "Sorry."
A brief silence settled between them before Peter spoke again. "Still… it was impressive how you held your own until we arrived."
Max narrowed his eyes. "Are you patronizing me?" He scoffed but then shook his head. "You know what? Doesn't matter. Thanks for coming—I probably would've died otherwise."
"I've already scheduled a full spa week for you after we get back tomorrow," Lydia added casually.
Peter blinked in surprise. "Wait… you're leaving tomorrow?"
"Oh, right, you wouldn't know," Jane said. "We're leaving too."
Peter frowned. "We are? What about these people? What if they're attacked again?"
Jane's expression softened. "We can't predict when they'll strike next. It could be months from now. Or they might even shift their focus to another country—maybe even our own."
"So… we just abandon them?" Peter's voice was quiet, conflicted.
Jane chuckled. "Who said anything about abandoning them?" She flashed him a knowing smile.
***
"So, if you sense an incoming attack or anything even remotely suspicious, call me immediately," Jane said as she handed a card with her number to the oldest minister.
The minister took it hesitantly, his wrinkled fingers gripping the card as he frowned. "I don't understand… You're leaving? Is it the money? Because if it is, we can pay more."
Jane quickly shook her head. "No, it has nothing to do with money. We just have something else to attend to."
A murmur spread through the room, and a diabolist scoffed. "So we're supposed to rely on how fast it takes you to get here?"
"We don't even know what kind of abilities they'll come with next time," another added, frustration creeping into his voice.
Eva crossed her arms, looking unimpressed. "Big thoughts coming from someone who's nowhere to be found once the attack begins."
The diabolist stiffened, offended. "Excuse me?"
Eva tilted her head mockingly. "Why don't you focus on your disappearing act? Or maybe pick a better hiding spot this time—since that's what you'll be doing anyway."
Max tried to suppress a laugh, but his shoulders shook as he struggled to keep a straight face.
Jane sighed and turned to Eva. "Stop."
Eva merely shrugged. "No, I just find it strange how they're acting like they'll be holding the fort until we arrive. Last I checked, Mask was the only real line of defense."
Lydia nodded rapidly in agreement, while the diabolists and roots shot Eva glares of pure irritation.
The ministers exchanged wary glances, eyeing the surrounding diabolists with unease.
"It doesn't matter," Peter said, stepping in to smooth things over. "What matters is that we're willing to return at the first sign of trouble to help."
The old minister exhaled heavily, nodding in reluctant understanding. "I see… When are you leaving? I'll transfer your payment now."
"There's no need," Jane interrupted before he could reach for his phone. "You'll need all the money you can get to rebuild."
The minister looked stunned. "How… No, I can't expect you to work for free."
Even Eva raised an eyebrow, surprised. She had always considered Jane the type to chase money above all else.
Jane simply smiled. "After everything is over, and if you have money to spare, you can pay us then."
Peter turned his gaze away, but a small, soft smile played at his lips.
The old minister hesitated, going back and forth with Jane in protest, but in the end, he reluctantly agreed to her terms.
Watching this unfold, Max sighed in relief. Good thing I had the foresight to request payment in advance. He had already been paid.
***
The next day, the minister arranged for a private jet to take them out of the country, but they refused. Instead, they chose to leave discreetly. The Hoods departed by air, while Mask took a car, ensuring they made multiple stops along the way to shake off any potential trackers.
By the time they arrived home, the evening sky had darkened. Peter offered to walk Jane to her house, while Eva wasted no time heading straight home.
As they walked, Peter hesitated for a moment before speaking. "About what I said during the mission… I still want you to reconsider."
Jane glanced at him, puzzled. "What are you talking about?"
"Your safety," Peter clarified. "It really bothers me to leave you alone during missions. I know you can handle yourself, but the enemies we're facing now are stronger. I'm just... scared." His voice was low, sincere—he wanted her to understand how much it terrified him to see her hurt, bleeding, dying.
Jane smiled, but it was a self-deprecating one. "I know I'm not as powerful as you or Eva, but I have to contribute somehow. I can't just sit back and stay away whenever things get dangerous. I don't want to be the weak link in the team."
"You wouldn't be," Peter insisted. "You'd just be safer."
Jane kept her smile but didn't respond. They walked in silence the rest of the way until they reached her home.
As she was about to say goodnight, Peter spoke again. "Just so you know… no matter what you do, you'll never be odd or an outcast to me." He hesitated before adding, "Or Eva."
Before Jane could reply, a cold voice cut through the night.
"Jane."
She flinched. Turning toward the house, she saw her father standing in the doorway, his thick brown hair neatly combed, his stern face unreadable.
"See you tomorrow, Peter," Jane said softly before stepping inside.
Peter nodded and turned to her father. "Good evening, sir."
Mr. Thorne didn't even glance at him before slamming the door shut.
Peter sighed and turned away, making his way home.
***
Inside the house, Jane moved quickly, hoping to slip away to her room unnoticed.
"Stop right there!"
Her father's sharp command froze her mid-step. She flinched but turned to face him.
"You didn't come home yesterday," Mr. Thorne said, his voice tight with disapproval. "Were you with that boy?"
Jane's jaw tightened. "Why do you care?" she shot back.
His eyes darkened with anger. "Don't you dare use that tone with me. I raised you better than that."
Jane scoffed. "Yeah, right."
"What you do is not just your business," he continued coldly. "Not while you live under my roof, eat my food, attend classes paid for with my money, and take an allowance from me. If you think age alone makes you an adult, think again."
Her hands clenched into fists. She had saved enough to move out—to buy her own place and live apart from her family. But they didn't know that.
"Until you can do all of that without my support," Mr. Thorne pressed, "you will obey my rules and answer me with respect. Do you understand?"
Jane swallowed back the bitter retort on her tongue. Truthfully, she was afraid of her father.
"Yes, sir," she muttered.
"Where were you?"
"On a trip with my friends."
"In the middle of the semester? Was that boy with you?" His voice edged with fury.
"It was me, Eva, and Peter," she clarified.
Mr. Thorne's face hardened further. "You three just decided to go on a trip in these troubling times? Without informing anyone?"
"I didn't think anyone would notice," Jane said flatly. "No one at home ever cares about what I do."
"Well, congratulations. That changes today." His tone was like steel. "I want a copy of your class schedule. From now on, every time you're not at home, you will report your exact location and when you'll be back."
Jane's eyes flashed with fury. "You're going to monitor me?"
"Yes."
"You must be joking."
Mr. Thorne stepped forward, his presence looming. "Am I?" His voice was ice-cold.
Jane instinctively took a step back.
"What's going on?"
A tired, gentle voice broke the tension.
Mrs. Thorne stood in the hallway, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
The fire in Mr. Thorne's gaze immediately softened as he turned to his wife. "It's nothing, dear. Go back to bed."
Jane didn't waste the opportunity. She turned and hurried to her room, shutting the door behind her.
Mrs. Thorne looked between her husband and the empty hallway, frowning. "Did something happen?"
Mr. Thorne shook his head. "No, my dear. Everything is fine." He placed a hand on her back and guided her away.