The room in the Brooklyn Brew café felt suffocating, the air thick with uncertainty. Alastor's eyes were locked on his phone screen, the video still playing in an endless loop. His pulse quickened as the haunting message repeated in his mind: They're coming for your family. You'll be next. And then, at the end, the name: Levanzo.
His heart skipped a beat. It wasn't just a random threat. It was a name. The name of someone tied to the cult—and perhaps someone even more dangerous.
Mr. Thompson, standing at the edge of the room, glanced at Alastor, his brow furrowing with concern. "What did it say? Who was it?"
Alastor's gaze flickered up from the screen, his face pale. "It's not just a warning. It's a threat. They're after someone close to me—someone I care for." His eyes drifted toward Mr. Thompson, the weight of the unspoken truth hanging heavily in the air.
Mr. Thompson's lips tightened. "It's me, isn't it?"
Alastor didn't respond immediately. The confirmation was painful. Mr. Thompson had been a constant in his life, someone he trusted implicitly. To know the cult was targeting him was a sharp blow, one that Alastor wasn't sure how to process.
"I—" Alastor started but was interrupted by the sudden ringing of a phone on the table.
Derek reached for it, his fingers brushing the device before he stopped. "It's them. They know we're onto them."
The phone rang again, louder this time, and the urgency in the room intensified. But before anyone could react, Mr. Thompson's voice cut through the tension. "Wait, Alastor," he said, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "How do you know this message is for you? How do you know they're after someone close to you? What makes you so sure?"
The room fell silent, everyone turning to Alastor, waiting for an answer.
Alastor felt their eyes on him, and for a moment, he couldn't bring himself to speak. The truth was too dangerous to reveal, too personal. He clenched his jaw, trying to steady his racing thoughts. The name "Levanzo" on the screen—something about it felt like a piece of his past, a key to unlocking everything. But how could he explain that without exposing too much of his history?
His gaze shifted away from Mr. Thompson's questioning eyes, his fingers tightening around the phone in his hand. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat. And then, in a weak, surprised, and almost terrified voice, he whispered, "Levanzo."
The room went still.
Everyone froze for a moment, their eyes widening at the name that escaped his lips. Rachel's breath hitched, and Mr. Thompson's face shifted from confusion to realization. Derek and Emily exchanged quick glances, their brows furrowing in concern.
"What... what did you say?" Mr. Thompson asked, his voice quiet, as if the name itself had weight in the air.
Alastor's face was drained of color as he looked around at the others, his gaze frantic. He swallowed hard, trying to steady his racing heart. "Levanzo," he repeated, his voice shaking. "It's... it's the name from the video. It's the one who—"
Before he could finish, Jack's voice cut in, his face suddenly registering a flash of recognition. "Wait... Levanzo?" He turned to the others, his voice sharp with realization. "That's the name of the symbol we saw at the abandoned warehouse! The one on that wall, the one we couldn't figure out."
The tension in the room spiked again, but this time it was different. Rachel and Emily exchanged a quick, knowing glance. The symbol at the warehouse—it had meant something. And now, hearing that name again, it clicked. The pieces were starting to fall into place.
Rachel took a step forward, her voice shaky but firm. "The symbol... that was connected to the cult, wasn't it? What does that name even mean? Who is Levanzo? Why do you look so... terrified?"
Alastor's eyes flickered between the group, his mind racing. He could feel the weight of their questions, the pressure to explain everything that had been left unsaid. But the truth was dangerous—too dangerous to speak all at once. He could feel the walls closing in.
The urgency in the room built as everyone waited for him to explain further, but Alastor remained silent for a moment, his thoughts swirling in a storm of memories and fear.
Rachel stood frozen, her face pale as she stared at the phone in Alastor's hands. Then, a sudden chill swept through her. The message on the screen. The words your family—Rachel and her brother—and the words you will be next—aimed directly at Mr. Thompson. The realization struck her like a hammer.
Her brother. The cult had killed him. But why? Why him?
Her heart raced as everything began to make sense. The message was not just about Alastor, not just about Mr. Thompson—it was about her, too. She wasn't just an innocent bystander in all of this. Her brother had been targeted because of his connection to her—and now, they were after her family again. They were coming for Mr. Thompson next.
Her breath hitched, her hands trembling as the full weight of the truth crashed over her. The cult wasn't just after them for revenge or some random act—they were targeting them because they had a deeper connection to the cult's twisted agenda. It had always been about family. Her family.
Rachel's voice trembled, barely a whisper, as she turned to Mr. Thompson. "They… they killed my brother, didn't they? It was because of our family. And now they're coming for you. You're next." Her eyes brimmed with tears, but she fought to keep her composure. The realization of her brother's death being a deliberate act, a move in some greater game, tore through her.
Mr. Thompson's expression faltered for a moment, the anguish in his eyes betraying his usual stoic demeanor. He stepped closer to Rachel, his voice strained. "I never wanted any of this to happen, Rachel. I'm so sorry. I didn't want you to be caught in this mess."
But Rachel shook her head sharply, the grief turning to anger. "I don't care about apologies right now. My brother is dead, and it's because of the people you're connected to. And now they're coming for all of us."
Alastor, feeling the weight of the room's gaze, met Rachel's eyes briefly before looking down at the phone in his hand. It felt like too much to bear, yet he knew they needed to press on. The name Levanzo still haunted him, lingering like a dark shadow that had yet to fully reveal its significance.
Before anyone could respond, Derek's voice broke through the silence. "What if this is all part of their plan? What if they're trying to lead us somewhere? Make us make a move that works in their favor?"
Emily nodded slowly, her eyes calculating. "We can't let them dictate the terms. But we also can't rush in blindly."
Rachel, her voice now cold with resolve, spoke up. "We need to act now. They're not going to stop. They're coming for us, and they'll destroy everything we care about if we don't do something." Her fists clenched, the raw emotion evident in her eyes. "I won't stand by and let them take any more of my family."
Alastor glanced at the others, his mind racing with the implications of everything that had just come to light. Levanzo. His thoughts flickered to the past—the dangers he had faced, the enemies he had encountered. This cult was no longer just some distant threat. They were too close, and they knew too much.
"We need to get to the bottom of this," Alastor said firmly, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside him. "If they're targeting Mr. Thompson, they're playing a bigger game. We need to be ready for whatever's coming."
Rachel nodded, her expression hardened. "We will be. But they won't break us. Not this time."
The tension in the room remained, but Rachel's words seemed to snap them all into focus. Whatever came next, they would face it together. But Alastor couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to this—something still left to uncover, something tied to the name Levanzo and the shadows of his own past.