"Supreme, please wait a moment."
Standing before the luxury villa, Selena suddenly spoke, her voice calm but firm as she stepped slightly ahead and halted Ryan just before he crossed the threshold. Dressed in black and holding a parasol that shielded her from the daylight, she looked every bit the disciplined warrior—focused, composed, and unwilling to cut corners.
Ryan paused and turned his head, a faint trace of curiosity crossing his face as his eyes landed on her.
"What is it, Selena?"
Her expression didn't waver in the slightest. "Please allow my people to conduct a full security sweep first. We need to ensure the premises are safe before you enter."
Even though following Ryan hadn't been her original choice, Selena was not the type to act half-heartedly. Now that she had accepted her role, she executed her responsibilities with absolute seriousness, treating his safety as a matter of priority.
Ryan let out a small, almost amused breath and waved a hand dismissively. "That won't be necessary."
With his current abilities, especially his enhanced hearing, he had already scanned the entire structure. There were no unusual movements, no concealed breathing patterns, no hidden threats lurking within the walls. Everything inside the villa was quiet, almost too quiet.
If he activated his vision further, he could confirm even more—no hidden explosives, no surveillance devices, nothing remotely suspicious. It all aligned with common sense. After all, this was his first time coming here, and he hadn't exactly accumulated enemies who could predict his movements with such precision.
Selena, however, didn't budge.
"Your safety comes first, Supreme. Please allow me to do my job properly," she insisted, her tone firm but respectful. "It won't take long."
Ryan studied her for a second, noting the stubbornness behind her calm exterior. Then he gave a small shrug, conceding without further resistance.
"Alright. Go ahead."
A few minutes wouldn't make any difference to him.
Without wasting time, Selena turned slightly and gave a subtle signal. Four of her men immediately moved out, entering the villa with efficient, practiced coordination. The remaining two stayed behind, positioning themselves nearby alongside Selena, forming a quiet perimeter around Ryan.
It was worth noting that, aside from Selena herself, the others were all human—carefully selected and absolutely loyal individuals under the control of her faction. This arrangement had been specifically requested by Ryan.
Living surrounded entirely by vampires? That was a scenario he had no interest in entertaining.
And yes, Selena herself was a vampire—but there were differences even among them. That distinction mattered more than most would realize.
"Isn't this a bit over the top, Hank?"
Raven leaned slightly toward Hank, lowering her voice as she glanced around at the armed escorts. It was clearly her first time being guarded like this, and the novelty hadn't quite worn off.
Hank adjusted his glasses, visibly uncomfortable with the situation. "Raven, maybe we should talk about this later… preferably inside."
He wasn't used to discussing people while standing right in front of them—especially when those people were the ones assigned to protect them. It felt awkward, almost inappropriate.
Even now, his mind was still struggling to process everything.
How had Ryan, of all people, suddenly become the Supreme of an entire undead tribe? The title alone sounded absurd, yet here they were, living inside it like it was perfectly normal.
While Hank's thoughts spiraled, the four men who had entered the villa quickly returned. One of them gave a subtle nod to Selena, confirming that everything inside was secure.
Selena turned back toward Ryan and stepped aside, her posture shifting into a respectful gesture.
"Supreme, you may enter now."
Ryan nodded and led Hank and Raven inside.
The interior of the villa was just as extravagant as its exterior suggested—wide open spaces, polished surfaces, and a design that blended luxury with a kind of understated elegance. Sunlight filtered through large windows, casting soft reflections across the room.
As soon as they stepped inside, Selena and her team dispersed without needing further instruction. Each of them moved to a designated position, quietly taking up guard duties without interfering with Ryan's space.
They knew exactly where they stood.
"Wow… Ryan, is this really where we're living now?"
Raven's voice burst out almost immediately, her excitement impossible to contain. She spun slightly in place, taking in the surroundings with wide eyes, clearly impressed by the scale and comfort of the villa.
Hank, while equally astonished, maintained a more composed demeanor. "Raven, this is Ryan's residence. We're just… staying here temporarily."
Ryan let out a small laugh as he walked further into the room, clearly unconcerned with the distinction.
"No, Hank. This is our home."
He gestured casually toward the upper floor. "Go ahead, pick any room you like."
That was all the encouragement Raven needed. She grabbed Hank by the arm and practically dragged him away, both of them heading upstairs with a mix of curiosity and excitement.
Ryan watched them go for a moment before turning and making his way toward the balcony.
Stepping out, he was greeted by a quiet courtyard filled with greenery—flowers, trimmed hedges, and a layout designed for both beauty and privacy. Sunlight poured in from above, warm and steady, a stark contrast to the cold, shadowed environments he had been dealing with recently.
For a brief moment, everything felt calm.
This villa would serve as his temporary base.
And from here, he would begin the next phase of his journey.
…
At the same time, far from the quiet comfort of the villa, tension filled a conference room deep within CIA headquarters.
The long table was surrounded by officials—high-ranking figures from multiple departments, including several familiar faces who had previously attended top-level defense meetings. At the head of it all sat Director Hansen, his expression stern as his gaze locked onto the woman seated at the far end.
Moira.
"Mora," Hansen began, his voice low but sharp, "tell us exactly what happened in Cuba. And more importantly—who destroyed the fleets of the United States and the Soviet Union?"
Every eye in the room shifted toward her, the weight of expectation almost suffocating.
Moira blinked, her expression shifting into one of confusion. "Cuba? Director, I'm not sure what you're referring to. Have I been there recently? I… don't remember anything."
The room froze.
Hansen's brow furrowed deeply. "Don't remember? What kind of answer is that? Are you telling me you've lost your memory?"
Given the stakes of the situation—and the presence of so many high-level officials—this was the last response he had expected.
Moira, however, nodded with unsettling sincerity. "I believe so. My memory from the past few days is completely blank. I don't know what happened."
This time, Hansen didn't respond immediately.
Instead, something clicked in his mind.
A memory surfaced—of a particular mutant with the ability to manipulate minds, to alter thoughts, even erase memories entirely. The possibility formed quickly, and once it did, it became difficult to dismiss.
If someone had orchestrated the destruction of the fleets, it made perfect sense that they wouldn't leave behind witnesses.
Moira should have been eliminated.
The fact that she was still alive suggested something else entirely.
Her memory had been wiped.
Hansen's expression darkened as he explained the situation to the others, outlining the existence of a mutant capable of such feats. The logic was simple, and the officials present were more than capable of following it.
No one argued.
It fit too well.
"Yes… memory erasure," Hansen muttered before looking back at Moira. "If that's the case, then what do you remember?"
He didn't expect much.
Moira frowned slightly, concentrating. "Just fragments. Random images, really. Trees… sunlight… and a kiss."
A collective reaction rippled through the room, several officials visibly losing patience.
"Unbelievable," someone muttered under their breath.
Out of everything that could have been remembered, those were the fragments she brought back?
Completely useless.
Whatever hope they had of uncovering the truth was fading fast.
The investigation had reached a dead end.
The truth of what happened in Cuba—how two superpower fleets had been annihilated—was slipping into darkness, buried beneath missing memories and unanswered questions.
And worse, the consequences were already unfolding.
"So what do we tell the public?" one of the officials finally asked, breaking the silence. "The entire country has been waiting for an explanation."
There was a brief pause before a military leader spoke, his voice firm and decisive.
"The truth."
The word hung in the air, heavy with implication.
"We tell them the truth."
Everyone understood what that meant.
Whether or not mutants were truly responsible no longer mattered. The public needed an answer, something to direct their anger toward, something to make sense of the disaster.
And mutants were the only viable target.
Moira's expression tightened as she spoke again. "The truth? You mean claiming that mutants destroyed the fleets? That hasn't even been confirmed. How can that be considered truth?"
The military official didn't even look at her.
"Director Hansen," he said calmly, "control your agent."
Hansen exhaled slowly before turning toward Moira.
"Agent Mora, you're dismissed. There's nothing more for you here."
And just like that, she was removed from the conversation.
.....
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