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My heartbeat turned erratic when a lean, medium-height man dressed in black jumped inside through one of the tall windows, without making a single sound.

Fear struck me alive when his eyes found mine in the darkness.

I waited for him to come at me. To touch me. To kill me. But instead, he put his index finger to his mouth and said, “Stay quiet and follow me.” He had a thick Asian accent, and his face was hidden beneath an unusual mask. The dull light flickering through the window caught the hard edges of the mask. Its large eyes, sharp teeth, and menacing face looked ominous. “I’ll get you out of here,” he promised.

My eyes widened. Life recently told me not to trust anyone, but at the moment, I nodded, leaping to my feet. It felt better to trust a man who wore a devil mask. Because men who didn’t wear masks turned out to be devils anyway.

Soon, we were bounding through the wide hallways that connected the barn to the main house. Our entrance roused the men guarding the place, and they stirred to their feet.

“Who the fuck…?” One of the men came toward us with an angry face, but the masked man didn’t even give him the chance to finish the sentence. He effortlessly plunged his blade into the man’s throat without missing a beat. And in less than three minutes, the other four men fell to the floor, all dead.

Shocked, I followed the man as the farm stirred awake, the commotion in the air getting louder and louder. He fought more men on the way, rescuing more people the farther we went.

The masked man joined three other men dressed similarly to him, and it wasn’t long before they rounded up the head farmers and slaughtered them, leaving no one behind.

It all happened so fast that it was almost fascinating to watch.

They led us captives outside and covered us in blankets and instructed us to stay put while they burned the entire place down, along with the dead bodies. While some cried and others withered in the fear of the newcomers, I felt something else altogether. I stood and walked over to the first man who promised to get me out of here.

The fresh smell of grass and the cold night air laced with the smoke felt like freedom for a moment. But it only reminded me of the truth of my life and how I ended up here.

“Why are you burning this place?” I asked him.

There was a certain calm to his eyes as he regarded me intently. “To not leave a trace,” he replied. “You’re Bellerose, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” I didn’t recall ever telling him my name. It was clear these people knew a lot more, but they didn’t look like cops. As far as I knew, cops didn’t wear devil masks.

“We were able to get your sister and cousin to safety,” he said.

I stilled. “Ari and Ella? They’re okay?”

“Yes, a friend of mine saved them,” he continued in his deep, low tone. “Someone will soon take you to them.”

My eyes widened in hope. They weren’t bad people after all. “What about Snow?”

He shook his head. “Snow is gone.”

My hope deflated into nothing, and the same dark cloud covered me once again. It hurt my chest to know that my innocent baby sister wasn’t here anymore.

It wasn’t long before they placed us victims in a local motel for the night. I didn’t want that label. I didn’t want to be called a victim. Why should I be a victim?

The next morning, a woman called Shonda came looking for me. I didn’t know who she was. All I knew was that she worked with the man who saved me. The man I overheard his friends call Akiyama.

She didn’t say where we were going, but she brought me new clothes, then made me shower and eat breakfast.

“Do you know where we are?” she asked hours later, just as the sun set over a massive city, surrounded by the ocean, towering with tall skyscrapers and fancy buildings.

I shook my head.

I had never been outside Grimoire, so I’d never seen anything so big. But my mind was so numb as to even feel anything except the rage in my veins. There wasn’t even a second that passed by since that day when I hadn’t been plagued with the flashing images of my mother’s death. The images were so vivid that it felt like I was reliving it over and over again.

“This is the Twins.” Shonda’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

Twin City.

I recalled Father speaking about it once. He said it held some fascinating legacy.

“After your sister and cousin were rescued, our organization placed them here with new identities,” Shonda continued. “You’re given one too. We’ve also provided you with enough money to last for a while. Since we still don’t know the nature of the crime committed against your family, it’s best if you don’t disclose your true identity.”