Rian stood in a cramped room packed with screens, Lena at his side and two uniformed guards fidgeting nervously around them.
The restaurant's security camera hub had gray walls and a chilly vibe that smelled like metal and wires.
Screens flickered with black-and-white footage, showing every corner of the place—from the entrance to the now-empty tables.
Lena leaned over one screen, scowling as she pointed at the replay they'd just watched.
"Look here," she said, voice firm but simmering with anger. She jabbed a finger at the corner Rian had flagged for the dart. "Someone was there, right? So how'd they get that close without anyone spotting them?" She crossed her arms, spinning toward the guards with a glare that could slice through steel. "Either there's a blind spot that jerk exploited, or one of your staff helped. No other way around it."
One guard, a tall guy with short hair and a badge reading 'Gómez,' raised his hands like he was trying to tame a wildcat.
"Miss Blaze," he said, respectful but jittery, "I swear, this restaurant's top-notch. No one on staff would pull something like that. We vet everybody before they're hired." He scratched his neck, glancing at the other guard for backup.
The second guard, younger with a trimmed beard, nodded fast.
"That's right, miss," he chimed in, voice a little shaky. "The cameras catch almost everything. If someone slipped in, it was a slip-up, not a sellout." He bent toward the screen like he'd prove it, but his face stayed tight.
Lena huffed, rolling her eyes.
"A slip-up in a place like this," she muttered, dripping sarcasm. "How convenient." She turned back to the screen, fingers tapping the table's edge as the footage rolled on.
Rian, quiet 'til now, sidled up to the younger guard at the controls.
The guy was rewinding the clip, pausing every few seconds to dissect it.
Rian frowned, leaning in for a better look.
"Why're you all arguing so much?" he asked, voice low but blunt. He pointed at the screen, tracing a path through the shadows along the corner. "That person moved right there. Check the shadows."
The guard blinked, thrown, and gave him a sideways glance.
"The shadows?" he echoed, tilting his head.
Then he squinted at the screen, following Rian's finger.
"Don't see anything off…" he mumbled, but he tweaked the controls and slowed the video down.
There it was.
In the footage, something shifted faintly in the shadows—barely noticeable at normal speed.
A hooded figure slipped out of the dark near the window, raised a small tube, and fired the dart at Lena.
Then, quick as it appeared, it melted back into the shadows, gone like it'd never been there.
"Holy hell!" the guard yelped, freezing the frame right on it.
Rian straightened up, scratching his neck.
"Seriously… why make a fuss over something this obvious?"
The guard gawked at him, wide-eyed and clearly floored.
"Sir?" he said, voice pitching up, "this ain't normal. Nobody catches that on the first go at full speed." He spun back to the screen, rewinding to double-check. "It's like they teleported or something."
Lena, who'd been ear-on from across the room, stepped over.
"Then it's a pro," she said, her tone sharp now. She crossed her arms tighter, glaring at the frozen figure on-screen. "Dig deeper. I want to know what outfit this creep's with."
"Yes, Miss Blaze," Gómez replied, nodding quick. "We're already looping in the authorities. This won't slide." He clapped his buddy on the shoulder, nudging him to hustle.
Right then, the door banged open, and Marcus Blaze strode in with heavy steps.
His brown jacket was a bit rumpled, and his white beard looked wilder than usual. His eyes swept the room before landing on Lena.
"Lena!" he boomed, voice filling the space. "Thank the stars you're okay."
Lena eased up a touch at the sight of him, letting out a short breath.
"Grandpa," she said, softer now. "It's under control. A coward's cheap shot, but they bolted." She nodded at the screen, where the hooded figure stayed locked in place. "We're combing the footage."
Marcus frowned, stepping closer with hands in his pockets.
"Leaving you alone was a screw-up," he muttered, voice low and heavy with guilt. He scratched his beard, shooting the guards a hard look. Then he raised his voice, commanding. "You hunting the bastard yet? I don't want excuses."
The younger guard stepped up, bowing slightly.
"Yes, Mr. Blaze," he said, respectful but steady. "We've called the cops and nearby guilds already." His hands shook a bit as he spoke, clearly rattled by the old man's vibe.
Marcus grunted, nodding slow.
"Better be," he said, voice like a low rumble. Then he swung his gaze to Rian, leaning against the wall, scratching his neck with a chill look.
Lena jumped in.
"It was Rian," she said, pointing at him quick. She pulled the dart from her pocket and held it up for her grandpa, cradling it carefully between her fingers. "He grabbed this before it hit me. If he hadn't, I'd be flat out right now."
Marcus raised a brow, eyeing the dart close. It was small, silver, with a wicked-sharp tip gleaming under the room's light.
Then he looked at Rian, tilting his head.
"Heck of a catch, kid," he said, impressed but curious. He crossed his arms, stroking his beard with one hand. "Not just anybody pulls that off without blinking."
Rian shrugged, face unchanged.
"Just saw it coming," he mumbled, scratching his cheek again. "No big deal."
Marcus let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head.
"No big deal, he says," he repeated, amused. Then his face sobered, and he stepped closer. "Hey, Rian," he said, dropping his voice a notch. "Sorry for dragging you into this mess. Mind sticking with us a bit longer? I wanna talk."