The shift in the atmosphere was so subtle that Vas almost missed it. Moments ago, the crowd's attention had been drawn to Zola's magnetic presence. Now, something had changed. It was difficult to describe, but the feeling was unmistakable. Someone wasn't looking at Zola as a person anymore; they were seeing her as prey.

Vas felt a wave of unease, but he knew it was exactly what they were hoping for—a sign that the right people had taken the bait. His pulse quickened as he scanned the crowd, and then he saw him: a young man, light-skinned with sharp features, approaching Zola. He was wearing an orange cap emblazoned with a circular logo, black sunglasses with reflective orange lenses, and a black hoodie covered in vibrant graphics. His expression was playful, almost boyish, as he stuck out his tongue and pinched it between his fingers in a teasing gesture.

"Hey, you look like you're having fun," the man said, flashing a grin as he approached Zola. "But how about we kick it up a notch?"

Zola, never one to shy away from a challenge, matched his energy with ease. "I'm always up for more fun," she replied with a flirtatious smile, her voice smooth, teasing.

"Then follow me," the man said, with a wink.

Vas's muscles tensed as he watched Zola fall into step with the stranger. This was it—the moment he'd been waiting for. Silently, he began to follow them through the crowd, moving with practiced precision, dodging people as they swayed to the music. The pounding bass covered the sound of his footsteps as he closed the distance between them. He kept his head low, using the shadows and flashing lights to mask his presence.

The man led Zola to a secluded area, toward the backstage doors of Mad Radio. Vas's unease deepened. The fact that this guy had access to the backroom meant that the club was involved—this was bigger and more dangerous than he'd initially thought.

As they slipped past the backstage doors, Vas stayed close, his movements fluid as he maneuvered through the narrow, dimly lit hallway. He couldn't afford to lose them now. They wound their way through the maze of corridors until they reached the back of the building.

Once there, the man leaned casually against a wall and turned to Zola, his playful demeanor never fading. "So, here's the deal," he began, his voice light but with an undercurrent of something darker. "We call ourselves the Light Cavalry. Our goal? To bring people's deepest wishes to life. Help them get the attention of someone... very powerful. Ancient, you could say."

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Zola raised an eyebrow, playing along, though Vas knew her well enough to catch the sharp focus in her eyes. She wasn't just listening—she was studying him, calculating her next move. "Ancient, huh?" she replied, her voice still playful. "And who exactly are we trying to get the attention of?"

The man chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Oh, we don't say the name. Let's just say it's someone you don't want to piss off. But, with your... charm," he gestured to Zola, his eyes sweeping over her in a way that made Vas's fists clench, "you'd be perfect to help us draw in some big eyes."

Zola tilted her head, her smile never faltering. "Sounds tempting, but what guarantees do I have that I won't get caught in whatever mess you're stirring up?"

The man's grin widened, a predatory gleam flickering behind his orange-tinted glasses. "That's the beauty of it. Tonight, one of our biggest problems is going to be taken care of. We've got... someone on our radar who's been poking around too much, writing things they shouldn't. After tonight, we'll have a lot more freedom."

Vas's stomach twisted as the man's words sank in. Someone writing things they shouldn't. His mind immediately flashed to the Scribes, and then, to Elliot. Elliot.

His heart raced. This wasn't just some vague threat—they were planning something, and Elliot might be the target. Vas edged closer, hiding in the shadow of a large crate, his ears straining to catch every word.

Zola's voice was casual, but there was a sharpness beneath it now. "And who exactly are we talking about?"

The man smirked, clearly enjoying the game he was playing. "You know... guides. People who think they can write about things they don't understand." He paused, waiting for Zola to react, but she kept her expression neutral. "Don't worry about it. After tonight, they won't be a problem."

Zola leaned forward slightly, her voice a little lower now. "You seem pretty confident. What makes you so sure?"

The man pushed off the wall and stepped closer to her, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. "Let's just say we've got everything in place. By tomorrow morning, they'll be out of the picture."

Vas clenched his teeth, his mind racing. He couldn't let this happen. Elliot had no idea what was coming, and the danger was too close now. He needed to act fast, but he couldn't blow his cover—not yet. He pulled back slightly, reaching for his CipherSync, his fingers trembling with the urgency of the situation. He typed a quick message to Lily, his eyes never leaving Zola and the man as they continued their conversation.

Vas: "They're planning something big tonight. Elliot's in danger. I'm following them now. Be ready."

He sent the message, his pulse hammering in his ears. Whatever was about to happen, he couldn't let them get away with it.

Zola, meanwhile, was still working the man, her smile disarming and her voice sweet. "I might be interested in joining, but I need more than vague promises. If I'm putting myself out there, I want to know I'm not walking into a trap."

The man laughed, clearly enjoying her game. "Don't worry, sweetheart. By the end of the night, you'll see exactly what we can do."

Vas gritted his teeth, slipping back into the shadows as they started to move again. He had to get closer—he had to figure out exactly what they were planning before it was too late.

The night had just taken a deadly turn, and Vas knew there was no room for error.

While Vas continued to observe the situation with Zola, a growing sense of unease gnawed at him. He tried again to reach Elliot, but there was no response. The silence on the other end only amplified his anxiety. Something was wrong—he could feel it in his bones.