UNKNOWN

He leaned against the wall in the dimly lit corridor of Hell's Angels, watching the ebb and flow of the club's nightlife through the narrow hallway. The music pounded against the walls, the bass vibrating beneath his feet, but his thoughts were far from the party. His gaze was fixed on Mae—Seraphina—as she slipped out of the bar where she had met Frank. She was moving quickly, almost nervously, like she could feel the weight of someone watching her.

And someone was.

He remained in the shadows, out of sight, his presence unnoticed by Mae. He had always been good at blending in when he wanted to, at disappearing into the background. It was a skill he had honed over the years, first in the village, and now here, in this new life he had built for himself. He watched as she turned a corner and disappeared into the night, her movements betraying the tension she was trying so hard to hide.

He knew that tension all too well. Mae had been on edge for weeks, ever since she had started asking questions, ever since the threats began. He had seen it in her eyes when they spoke, in the way her voice trembled when she tried to sound strong. She was scared, and fear was a powerful thing. It made people unpredictable, desperate.

He turned away from the window and made his way down the narrow hall toward his office. The familiar thrum of the club faded as he closed the door behind him, sealing himself off from the noise. He needed to think, to process everything that had been happening over the past few days. The pieces were moving faster now, and Mae's growing unease was pushing things toward a tipping point.

He sat down at his desk, the soft glow of the desk lamp casting long shadows across the room. His office was quiet, a sanctuary from the chaos outside. It was here that he did his best thinking, his most careful planning. There were no distractions, no interruptions. Just him and his thoughts.

And tonight, his thoughts were on Mae.

He opened a file on his desk, flipping through the pages of notes and reports. Mae had been in Los Angeles for months, but it was only recently that she had drawn the attention of certain people. People who were interested in what she could offer, in the potential she held. They were watching her now, and she knew it. The question was, how much longer would she try to fight it before she gave in?

The knock on his door was quiet but firm, and He glanced up, his expression unreadable. "Come in."

The door opened slowly, and one of his associates stepped inside, his face pale in the dim light. He looked nervous, as they always did when they came to him with information about Mae. They didn't fully understand the connection between him and her—no one did—but they knew enough to tread carefully.

"She met with Frank tonight," the man said, standing just inside the doorway, hands clasped nervously in front of him.

He nodded slowly, his expression betraying nothing. "And?"

"They talked about Hell's Angels, about the people behind it. Frank's nervous. He's starting to tell her more than he should."

He leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of him. "Let him talk. Mae's smart, but she's still trying to figure it out. She's not there yet."

The associate hesitated, glancing toward the floor. "What if she does figure it out? What if she gets too close?"

He eyes darkened slightly, though his voice remained calm. "She won't. Not yet."

The man shifted uncomfortably. "And Father Charlie? He's been spending a lot of time around her. People are starting to notice."

He gaze flickered for a moment, his expression hard to read. "Father Charlie knows how to handle himself. Leave him out of it for now."

The associate looked uncertain but nodded, stepping back toward the door. "Understood."

He waved him off, his attention already returning to the file in front of him. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving him alone in the silence of his office once again.

He glanced down at the pages spread out on his desk, his eyes lingering on Mae's name. She was in deep, deeper than she realized. And yet, she kept pushing forward, kept trying to uncover the truth, as if she could somehow escape the web that had been spun around her.

But there was no escape. Not for Mae.

He stood and walked over to the window that overlooked the club's dance floor. The lights flashed below, casting eerie shadows across the writhing crowd. From up here, it all looked so distant, so disconnected from the reality of what was happening behind the scenes. The people down there had no idea what kind of power was at play, no idea of the forces that controlled everything they thought was just fun and games.

Mae was different, though. She was starting to see it, starting to understand that there were bigger things happening. But she was still so far from the truth. And as much as he hated to admit it, a part of him almost admired her for it—for her determination, for the fight she still had in her. Even after all these years.

But the fight wouldn't last forever. It never did.

His gaze hardened as he turned away from the window. The game was moving faster now, and soon, Mae would have to make a choice. She could keep pushing, keep trying to find her way out, or she could accept the inevitable.

Either way, she was right where he wanted her.