The icy wind sweeping through the alley had calmed, but the tension still hung thick in the air. Gabriel wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand, his eyes fixed on Jane.
— You gonna tell me what you're doing here? You after my soul too? he asked, wary.
She didn't answer right away. Her gaze shifted toward the spot where Sera had vanished.
— No, relax. But we can't stay here, she said simply. Follow me.
Gabriel didn't move.
— I don't know what you're planning, but I don't trust you.
— This isn't about trust, Gabriel. It's about survival.
She took a few steps forward, but stopped when she realized he was still standing there. With a sigh, she turned back to him.
— Fine… I'll tell you what's really going on in this school. But first, follow me.
He hesitated, then finally followed her, always keeping a few steps between them.
The hallway was empty, lit only by the flicker of a single neon light. Gabriel's footsteps echoed behind Jane's, steady but deliberately distant. He made no effort to hide his distrust. She, on the other hand, walked with calculated confidence, as if she always knew exactly what she was doing… or never questioned herself.
They stopped in front of an ordinary-looking door, marked with a small brass plaque: Literature Club. Jane opened it without a word.
Inside, there were tables, bookshelves, and the smell of old paper. But Gabriel quickly realized it was only a façade.
Jane crossed the room and pressed on a small raised detail in the corner of a bookshelf. A sharp click, and an entire section of the shelf swung open, revealing a narrow passageway.
— After you, she said with a faint smirk.
Gabriel hesitated.
— I'm not walking into a place I don't know first.
— You really have control issues, don't you? she teased.
— No. I just don't like offering my neck.
Her smile widened slightly before she stepped inside first.
The hidden room was larger than he'd expected. Dim lighting, long shelves filled with grimoires, a large black wooden table. Around it sat several other people—three young men and two women—dressed simply but carrying an unmistakable air… the kind of gaze that weighed, measured, remembered.
— This is Gabriel, Jane announced, taking a place beside him. He's under my protection.
A quiet murmur passed through the room.
— Seriously? one of the men asked, a guy in his twenties with neatly combed black hair.
— Very seriously, Jane replied without taking her eyes off Gabriel.
She stepped toward the wall, where a crest hung: a circle of onyx slashed through by a crimson claw.
— The Literature Club, at least on paper. In reality, we are the Onyx Claw Clan. A demon clan. And… I'm its president.
Gabriel didn't answer, his gaze sliding over the carved symbols on the walls.
— So, what's the plan? I join your little club and pretend I don't see what's going on in this school?
— No, she shot back, her tone sharp. You listen, you understand, and then you decide. But first, we settle something.
She pulled out a chair and sat down across from him, fingers interlaced.
— We're gonna play a game. Three questions. You can ask me three. I have the right not to answer one of them. Deal?
Gabriel crossed his arms.
— Fine.
— First question?
— Why was my eye burning during the fight?
Jane froze for a moment, her confidence wavering slightly.
— I don't have much information… But I think it's connected to your clan.
— My clan?
— Yes. The Hunta clan.
The name echoed strangely in the room. A few members exchanged quick glances.
— Never heard of it, Gabriel said flatly. I've been on my own for a long time. Never knew anyone from my family.
— That's normal, she said calmly. The Hunta don't live together for long. They're… hunters. Beings capable of sensing the weakness in their prey, entering a state of absolute focus, and striking their target without hesitation. Some say their eye ignites when they face an opponent they deem worthy.
Gabriel frowned.
— So you're saying I'm one of them.
— Not saying. I'm telling you. Tonight, that was the eye of a Hunta.
A tense silence followed. Jane held his gaze, and for the first time, he didn't look away.
— Second question? she asked.
Gabriel leaned back in his chair, choosing his words.
— Who really sent you to find me?
A small smile tugged
— Good question. And that one… I'm
choosing not to answer.
A short, ironic laugh escaped Gabriel.
— Figures.
— Third and last, she said, leaning forward, elbows on the table, her face only inches from his. Make it count.