Chapter 126

Damian Cross secured the silver mask over his face with slender fingers, his presence instantly becoming unreadable.

Aria Bennett gave a knowing nod. His identity as an A-list actor couldn’t be exposed—not when they were hunting a ruthless blood mage tonight.

The moment they stepped into the Blackwell family garden, a bone-chilling draft swept over them. Aria narrowed her eyes, spotting tendrils of black mist slithering between the flower beds.

"Master Aria!" Victor Blackwell and his mother hurried forward, their gazes flickering uncertainly to the masked man.

"Colleague from the Special Response Division," Aria said briskly.

Damian gave a curt nod, his voice deliberately lowered. "Standard procedure."

Aria strode to a corner and dug out two blood-red stones from a flowerpot. Their surfaces were etched with sinister patterns, cold enough to burn at the touch.

"Is this what’s been causing the trouble?" Victor paled.

"Miasma stones." Aria wrapped them in talisman paper. "Prolonged exposure drains vital energy."

After clearing every cursed stone from the house, the living room’s temperature finally normalized. Aria suddenly turned toward the entrance. "No point hiding now."

The doors and windows flew open without wind, flooding the space with icy air. A hunched figure materialized, her wrinkled face framed by greasy gray hair.

"You?!" Moira Blackwell shot to her feet, nails digging into her palms.

Aria’s sharp eyes caught the tangled threads of fate between the two women. "You know each other?"

"Know her?" Moira’s voice shook. "Her name is Liora Quinn. She was my father’s—"

"Lover?" The crone let out a shrill laugh. "That faithless bastard Logan Price deserved worse!"

Her skeletal finger jabbed at the family portrait. "If he hadn’t rejected me, I wouldn’t have married that monster!" Her sleeve slipped, revealing grotesque scars along her wrist.

Aria’s pupils constricted. The scars formed an occult sigil—a sacrificial mark.

"So you used blood magic to kill the Blackwells?"

"They deserved it!" Liora Quinn’s eyes turned bloodshot. "Logan would rather die than acknowledge me. I’ll wipe out his entire bloodline!"

She yanked her collar down, exposing a crimson curse mark over her collarbone. Aria’s face darkened—a death hex sealed with kin blood.

"You sacrificed your own child?"

"It was dying anyway." The old woman cackled wildly. "Better to use it for vengeance!"

A gale howled through the room, chandeliers swinging violently. Aria flung out talismans, her voice sharp. "You’ve taken more than four lives!"

"Of course." The crone licked her lips. "Practice makes perfect." She ripped open her coat, revealing a lining stitched with countless knotted strands of hair.

Each knot represented a murdered soul.