Illaria Point of View

I stepped into the interrogation room, the door swinging open with a soft creak. The heavy air inside seemed to close in around me, thick with tension. Devon, still sitting at the table, looked up, his face a mask of frustration and confusion. He wasn't the only one. The entire room seemed to pulse with the weight of the moment—Asmund, or whatever he was calling himself now, had just dropped a bombshell, and nobody knew what to do with the pieces.

But that was where I came in.

I didn't waste any time. I walked straight to the table, making eye contact with Devon first, then letting my gaze slide to Asmund, who was sitting there like he was just waiting for the world to end. Maybe that was the problem—he was already sure it would.

Devon looked like he was on the verge of cracking, his hands resting stiffly on the table, jaw tight. I could tell he was trying to make sense of everything that had been thrown at him, but there were too many moving parts. Too many unknowns.

"Devon," I said, my voice low but sharp. "You're looking at this all wrong."

His brow furrowed as he looked up at me, his lips twitching. "Illaria, now's not the time—"

"No, now is the time," I interrupted, stepping closer and setting down a thick folder in front of him. "You've been chasing the wrong damn ghost."

His eyes narrowed as he glanced at the folder, clearly unsure of what was coming next. "What are you talking about?"

I exhaled through my nose, shaking my head, feeling a wave of frustration creeping up my spine. "You've been focusing on Asmund. And yeah, maybe he's been the one in the spotlight, but you're missing the bigger picture." I let my gaze rest on Asmund, who was watching me with a bemused smile, like he thought he had all the answers. Like he thought he was untouchable.

"What's bigger than him, Illaria?" Devon's voice was strained, desperate for clarity. He was caught in the whirlwind of the mess, still trying to grasp hold of something solid.

I met his gaze, and for a second, I almost felt bad for him. Almost. "I'm talking about them," I said, my finger lightly tapping the folder. "I've been watching Asmund for months now. I've had my doubts about him. You know that, right? But it wasn't just about him. Not really. There were more, Devon. Much more. And I've been working on catching them."

I saw the flicker of disbelief in his eyes, like he couldn't quite process what I was saying. "You've been tracking down the Architects? All of them?" He asked, voice tight with something between awe and suspicion.

I nodded. "Yeah, all of them. Every last one. I started piecing things together after Asmund slipped up one too many times. He didn't even realize it, but I could see the cracks, the tiny inconsistencies. It didn't take long before I knew something was off. So I started digging."

Devon leaned back in his chair, staring at me like I'd just pulled a rabbit out of a hat. "You're telling me you've been working on this for months, and we're the ones just figuring it out?"

I shrugged, leaning casually against the edge of the table. "You weren't looking in the right places, were you? I mean, I get it—Asmund's a smooth talker. He has this way of getting under your skin, making you think he's the one pulling all the strings. But it was never just him." I turned my gaze to Asmund, my voice lowering. "You were just the start, Asmund," I said, almost a whisper. "But I'm not here for you."

Asmund's smile faltered slightly, but he recovered quickly, the usual arrogance creeping back in. "You think you can stop this? You think you can just walk in and solve it all in one go?" he sneered, leaning forward in his seat.

I didn't even flinch. "I didn't say I was stopping it. But what I can do is make sure you and your buddies don't get to decide how it all plays out."

The room fell into silence, thick with tension, and I let it hang there. Devon was still staring at me, processing. His eyes were wide now, realization dawning on him.

"You've caught them?" he asked, the disbelief evident in his voice.

"Caught all of them," I said, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. "I wasn't playing the same game you were, Devon. I've been keeping my eyes on all of them, and I knew exactly when to strike. The trap's already been set, and they're all locked away. You don't need to chase them down one by one. They're all sitting comfortably in one of my secure locations."

The shock on his face was palpable. "Wait... what? You've already done that?" He ran a hand through his hair, clearly struggling to wrap his mind around it. "How—how did you even—?"

I picked up the folder, slowly, and flipped it open. "It's all about knowing who you're dealing with. I knew Asmund wasn't working alone. And once I started looking, the patterns were all there. Little slips, little signs. I kept my distance, let them think they were in control. But while they were out there, I was putting together a plan."

I slid the list of names across the table toward him. There they were: all the Architects, neatly organized in black and white, each one marked with a specific location. Some of them had been under my radar for longer than I cared to admit, but once I realized who they were, it was easy to track them down.

Devon looked over the list, disbelief and something else—maybe a hint of awe—flickering across his face. "This... this is insane, Illaria. How? How did you even—"

I let out a long breath, trying to suppress the weariness I could feel settling into my bones. "It's simple. You don't just focus on the target. You watch the web. Watch how the pieces fit together. I knew that if I kept digging, I'd find the rest of them. And eventually, they made a mistake. They always do." I sat back, letting the weight of my words settle in. "I laid the trap, and now they're caught. All of them."

There was a long silence, and I could feel the eyes of the authorities behind the mirror, watching, waiting. I didn't care about them. They were nothing but ghosts, the same as the ones I was hunting. But Devon... Devon was different. His eyes met mine, and I saw the shift. The respect.

"I didn't expect this," he said, his voice tight with something I couldn't quite place. "I thought we were out of options."

"You were," I said softly. "But I wasn't."

I turned to face Asmund, who was still sitting there, defiant, though I could see the hint of frustration in his eyes now. "You've got no cards left to play, Asmund. You can sit there all day with your smug little smile, but it doesn't change a damn thing."

He sneered at me, but there was no fire in it anymore. "You think you've won?"

"No," I said, my voice sharp as I met his gaze. "I don't think I've won. I think you've lost."

I turned back to Devon. "So yeah, I've done my part. The rest of it is yours to figure out. The countdown's still going, and I don't have a clue how to stop it. But what I do know is that you don't have to chase ghosts anymore. You've got all the pieces. Now you just have to make them fit."

He nodded slowly, almost thoughtfully, as if he were already piecing the plan together in his mind.

I stood up, grabbing the folder and slipping it under my arm. "I've done the hard part, Devon. The rest is your headache now. But don't forget—you're the one who's going to have to stop the reset."

I gave one last look at the room, then turned toward the door. Asmund's eyes were still on me, that unshakable defiance lingering in his gaze, but it didn't matter anymore. The game had changed. And for the first time, he was on the losing side.

"Good luck, Devon," I said, letting the words hang in the air. "You'll need it."

I paused by the door, hearing the soft shuffle of footsteps behind me. I glanced at the others in the room—Faris, Mairead, and the rest of the team. Their eyes were wide, a mix of awe and disbelief. They weren't quite sure what had just happened, but the shock was there. I could see it in the way they glanced between me and Devon, the way they processed what I'd just handed them.

"Take care of things," I said, nodding toward each of them. "We've got one less Architect to worry about, but the countdown is still ticking."

I turned back to Devon and, in a sudden, impulsive motion, I kissed him—just a soft, fleeting kiss on his cheek. I felt the warmth of his skin against mine, his breath hitching slightly, but I didn't wait for any response.

The door clicked shut behind me, and I walked down the hallway, the weight of everything pressing down on me. It was over for now. At least the hard part was. But as I made my way toward the exit, my thoughts drifted.

I just hoped this whole chaos ended soon. Because the moment this was all over, I planned on making more of an effort with Devon. No more running from it.

And, I don't know, maybe I'd pray to God that Devon somehow miraculously gains the power of romance... because if that's what it takes for him to finally get his act together, then...

I'm all in.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Hello Sweeties,

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Lady Prim