Chapter 12 - Whispers of Betrayal, Echoes of Blades

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Argent’s eyes narrowed, suspicion darkening her tone. “It’s a yes or a no.”

“Let’s do the raid tomorrow instead,” Hound countered firmly. “I told my baron tonight, and I happen to be a woman of my word.”

“We can’t do it tonight. This is the reason you want to work with me—because I see things you can’t. Trust me on this,” Hound insisted, his voice calm but resolute.

Argent’s frustration boiled over. “What did you see in there? Every last detail.”

Hound sighed and explained everything he had seen, leaving no vision unspoken, every detail meticulously recounted.

“I’ll update my baron and we’ll continue from there,” Argent decided, turning on her heel to leave.

“No, you won’t,” Hound said sharply, steadying himself as he stepped closer.

Argent froze mid-step, disbelief etched across her face. “What are you saying? That we change plans and leave him out of the loop?”

“I’m telling you to follow the script. Just as I saw it,” Hound replied firmly, his tone unyielding.

“What you saw are fragments! Pieces of a puzzle, not the whole picture,” Argent shouted, her voice cutting through the tense air. “What you’re suggesting—that we go behind his back—is treason. You do realize that, right? Starting a war with the barons isn’t something we walk away from.”

“You tell him, and I’m out,” Hound said coldly, his voice like a blade. “I will not die because you want to prove to your little daddy what a good girl you are.”

Argent’s composure shattered. Her braids began to unravel, each strand moving like a serpent ready to strike. Fury ignited in her eyes as she took a menacing step forward. “I’ve been far too lenient with you,” she hissed, her voice venomous. “Let me remind you—since you seem to have forgotten—I am your superior, and you will treat me as such!”

The tension crackled between them like static electricity. Hound stood his ground, but suddenly, the tattoos on his face began to burn. Not a physical heat, but a searing pain that tore through his very soul. The invisible tear-shaped marks he had once chosen now glowed as if etched with fire.

He staggered, clawing at his face, his wails of agony echoing in the lair. The burning sensation spread across his body, unbearable and relentless. His legs buckled, and with one final scream, he collapsed.

When Hound opened his eyes, he found himself lying on a couch, his head pounding. Argent sat silently beside him, her expression unreadable. Across from him was Blanc, the quiet confidence of his presence filling the room. Next to Blanc stood a man—another Seer, judging by the branded mark on his face. The man’s fear was palpable, his body trembling as sweat poured down his pale skin.

Blanc leaned forward slightly, his voice low and deliberate. “How trustworthy are your visions, Hound?”

Hound shifted his gaze to Argent, his blood simmering with restrained fury. “We’ve deviated from the original timeline,” he admitted. “Everything I calculated before is useless now. You weren’t supposed to find out until the mission was complete.”

“Argent told me everything I needed to know,” Blanc replied, his words sharp and measured. “Her loyalty is commendable, but yours? Yours is in question. So tell me, Hound—can I trust you?”

Hound met Blanc’s eyes, his voice steady despite the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “I bear the mark of a Seer, don’t I? My soul is branded. That should be enough.”

Blanc’s lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. “Then proceed with your plan, just as you saw it. I will play my part, just as I did in your vision.” He gestured to a maid who approached with a chemical gas mask. “Twenty percent concentration ether. Use it to realign this timeline with the original one. Make it work.”

Hound took the mask silently. As he and Argent left the room, the sound of the branded man’s screams echoed behind them, piercing and relentless. They didn’t look back.

The air outside was heavy with awkward silence. The tension between them lingered like a storm cloud.

“Hey,” Argent broke the quiet, her voice softer than usual. “Back there at the lair, that was uncalled for. I’m sorry.”

Hound didn’t respond. His focus was sharp, his mind already shifting gears. “Our first stop for the night is the bar,” he said curtly. “Tonight, we set everything up to align with my vision. Tomorrow, we raid.”

The bar was a cacophony of flashing lights and pulsating music. It took thirty long minutes of waiting in line before they reached the bouncer. The pat-down was thorough, every inch of their bodies searched. When they finally stepped inside, Argent joked, “Was there an alternate vision where I beat him up for grabbing my ass?”

“Nope,” Hound replied, his gaze locked on his target. “In every single one, you just took it. Like the good girl you are.”

Argent started to respond, but Hound was already weaving through the crowd, his movements deliberate. The air was thick with sweat and desperation. Women danced against one another, men loitered against walls hoping for attention, and the flashing lights painted the chaos in technicolor.

Upstairs, in a private section, Lucas lounged among bottles and women, laughter and debauchery surrounding him. His carefree demeanor shifted the moment he spotted Hound approaching.

Hound sat across from him, his expression unreadable. Argent stood to Lucas’ side, blocking him in.

“Come to join the fun, eh?” Lucas said, feigning nonchalance as he slung an arm around the woman beside him. “With the pretty assassin, no less. I didn’t know you had it in you, dog.”

“All of you, leave us,” Hound said flatly, his gaze locked on Lucas.

Lucas’ friends burst into laughter, mocking his tone. “All of you, leave us!” they echoed, their laughter grating.

Without another word, Hound reached into his shoe and drew a dagger—the same one he had used to kill Puck. He relaced his shoe with meticulous patience as Lucas and his entourage continued their drunken banter, oblivious to the danger.

The blade moved in a flash. It pierced the eye of the man closest to him, the steel driving cleanly into his brain. Blood gushed as the man’s body crumpled lifelessly to the floor. The laughter stopped.

Hound withdrew the blade with deliberate force, his movements calm and precise. He turned his gaze back to Lucas, his voice low and cold.

“Private sections stay true to the name,” he said, “I love it. No one can hear you scream.”