Chapter 26: License Plate!!

The car rolled quietly through the still streets. After dropping Becky and Rose off at their apartment, where the two sleepily said their goodnights, Miles turned toward Celina’s neighborhood.

As they approached a quieter road near her home, Celina leaned forward and pointed.”Stop here… I’ll walk from this point.”

Miles slowed the vehicle. “How will you go?” he asked, raising a brow.

Celina gave a mischievous grin. “I’ll jump the wall again.”

Miles couldn’t help but chuckle. “Reckless.”

She stepped out and gave him a small wave. “Goodnight, Miles.”

He watched her until she safely reached her backyard wall, hopped over it with ease, and vanished into the shadows beyond.

Then, with a quiet sigh, Miles turned the wheel and headed home.

The house was silent when he arrived. Everyone was asleep. Miles moved quietly through the front door, removing his gear with practiced ease and heading straight to his room. No debriefing tonight. No planning. Just… sleep.

Morning sunlight poured through the half-open curtains.

BANG!

The bedroom door flew open, and a pair of small feet thundered inside.

“Big brooo!” Hope’s voice chimed. “Wake up, wake up!”

Asher jumped onto the edge of the bed. “It’s almost breakfast time! Mom made pancakes!”

Miles groaned softly, eyes squinting at the digital clock.

8:23 AM.

He sat up slowly, running a hand through his hair. “No time for a run today,” he muttered under his breath, stretching as he stood.

With the twins still excitedly bouncing around, he trudged toward the bathroom, the sound of their laughter chasing him down the hallway.

A new day had begun.

Morning – Celina’s Residence, Dining Area

Sunlight streamed in through the tall windows as Celina quietly stirred her spoon in a bowl of cereal. Across the table, her father—Victor Wraithbourne—sat with a stern expression, scanning the morning paper, but his eyes weren’t really on the headlines. They were on her.

Then, calmly but firmly:

“Where were you last night?” Victor asked without looking up.

Celina’s hand froze mid-stir. “Umm… I was asleep, Dad.”

Victor folded the newspaper slowly and set it aside. His eyes locked on hers.

“When did you learn to lie like this?”“I know you weren’t in your room. I checked.””I know you jumped the backyard wall. Again.””And I know the Paradise Club was reduced to ashes last night.”

Celina’s shoulders tensed. Her eyes dropped. “…I’m sorry.”

Victor’s voice grew colder. “Do you understand how reckless that was? What if something happened to you? What if things had gone wrong?”

He leaned forward, arms on the table.

“The more important question is—who dropped you home last night?”“Who was driving that car?”

Celina hesitated. “You know?”

Victor narrowed his eyes. “The security cameras picked up the plate when it dropped you off near the wall. I ran the number. 77777.”

He leaned back slowly.

“Do you even know what that plate number means?”

Celina blinked, confused. “It’s… just a number? Right?”

Victor’s tone dropped, dark and grave.

“Only one group uses that number. A number the underworld fears.”“They call themselves The Graveyard.”“A collection of killers—assassins, mercenaries, ghosts.”“Their emblem is the grim reaper… and their signature is silence.”

Celina’s spoon slipped into her bowl. Her breath caught.

“Graveyard… grim reapers… killers…” she whispered, replaying the flashes of last night—tactical gear, silent communication, fire, precision.

Victor’s voice snapped her back.

“Now tell me the truth.” “Who was in that car with you?”

Silence fell.

Celina looked up at her father, panic mixing with something else—loyalty, conflict… awe.

But the question still hung in the air, and her answer would change everything.

Celina stared down at her half-eaten breakfast. She couldn’t lie anymore.

Her voice barely rose above a whisper.

“…Dad. It was Miles.”

Victor’s head tilted, confused. “Miles…?”

Then his brow tightened. A pause.His voice came again—low, cautious:

“Wait… You don’t mean Miles Sterling, do you?”

Celina hesitated—then nodded. “Yes, Dad. Miles Sterling.”

The fork slipped from Victor’s fingers and clattered on the plate.

His entire face changed—eyes wide, stunned. He leaned back, breath caught in his throat.

“…Miles Sterling…”

He whispered the name like a ghost had just walked through the room.

“He was kidnapped when he was six…”“After his father—Edward Sterling, my friend—died in that accident…”

He stared blankly for a moment, like he’d just seen a ghost walk out of the past.

Celina reached over, gently touching his wrist.

“Dad? Are you okay?”

Victor swallowed, voice thick with emotion. “I… I thought he was dead.”

A long pause.

Then his eyes met hers again—more focused now, filled with questions.

“Tell me everything. How did you meet him?”

Celina nodded and explained—carefully.She told him about the day at Star Harbor Square, the first meeting, her request for a bodyguard, the strange coincidences, and how he’d always been silently watching out for her.

But she didn’t mention Reaper Entertainment

, or his tactical gear, or anything about his wealth.

She told just enough for the picture to form—but not enough to reveal the whole painting.

Then, with lowered eyes, she described last night—the chaos at the club, the dark corridors, the cold violence, and how Miles and his team had saved them all.

Victor clenched his fists. His face darkened.

“How dare they… drag you into something like that…”

Celina reached across the table.

“It’s okay, Dad. Miles… handled everything. He protected us. They only burned down the Paradise Club.”

Victor’s voice dropped—angry but also shaken.

“And you made him your bodyguard? Celina… he’s not a stranger . He’s like family to us.”“Edward would’ve trusted me with his son, and I didn’t even know he was still alive…”

Celina looked down. “I didn’t know either… Not at first.”

Victor stood slowly, walked to the window, staring out at the garden. His voice was quieter now.

“Invite him here.”“After classes. No pressure—but if he’s really Edward’s boy… then I need to see him.”

Celina nodded. “I’ll ask him, Dad.”

Victor turned back and gave her a long, unreadable look. There was pride in his eyes. And sorrow.

“Breakfast is over. Go to class. We’ll talk later.”

Celina grabbed her bag and headed out, leaving her father standing in silence—lost in memories of a boy thought long gone… now returned as something more.

Celina walked briskly through the college gate. There, leaning casually against a pillar, dressed in plain clothes but still carrying the unshakable air of a soldier, stood Miles.

He looked up and gave a faint smile.

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

Celina returned the smile, brushing her hair behind her ear.

“Good morning, Miles. I actually slept peacefully… thanks to you.”

They began walking together toward the main building, their steps matching in rhythm.

Celina hesitated for a moment, then spoke up.

“I have something to tell you.”

Miles raised an eyebrow slightly, looking at her sideways.

“What is it?”

She looked straight ahead, gathering her thoughts.

“My dad… he caught me.””He checked the security cameras. He saw your license plate.”

Miles didn’t respond right away.

“He made a big fuss about it,” she continued.”He said that number—77777—belongs to some underground group. He seemed really… serious.”

She glanced up at him.

“And the more he talked… the more it started sounding like you.””Miles, are you… one of them?”

Miles was silent for a long moment. The noise of the college faded into the background.

Then he finally spoke—calm, but honest.

“Your dad isn’t wrong.””The Graveyard… they’re my family.”

Celina’s eyes widened slightly, but she said nothing.

Miles continued, his voice steady.

“But we don’t work for money alone. What we do… it’s for justice. For balance. The kind of work governments can’t officially touch. We don’t exist in records—but people whisper about us.””Your dad might’ve heard those whispers.”

Celina swallowed. The pieces were falling into place far too clearly now.

“He… he knew something,” she said softly.”When he heard your name… he went silent for a while. Almost emotional. Then he asked me to bring you to the house after college.”

She looked at him with cautious eyes.

“I’m sorry, Miles. I had to tell him. He knows you’re alive now.”

Miles gave a small nod, his expression unreadable.

“Your dad… I don’t really remember him.””But I want to. I want to meet him. And… maybe ask him about my father.”

Celina smiled, relieved.

“I’ll let him know. He’ll be glad.”

Miles gave a faint, sincere smile in return.

“Tell him I’ll come in the late afternoon.”

They reached the steps of the building. The early light washed over the campus. Students moved around them, but in this moment, it felt like just the two of them.

Miles gestured toward the entrance.

“Come on. Let’s go to class.”

Celina nodded, falling into step beside him again.

Somewhere in the Country…

In a secluded, dimly lit study, lined with ancient books, maps, and oil paintings, an old man sat in a worn leather chair, the weight of time and secrets heavy on his shoulders. Shadows clung to the room as if even light feared him.

He held a phone to his ear, voice sharp and cold.

“Repeat that.”

A nervous voice crackled through the line.

“The Paradise Club was burned down last night, sir.”

The man’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the phone tighter.

“What? Who did it? How?”

“We don’t know yet… Dan is missing. Completely off the grid. The secure locker was found—but it was empty. The vials are gone.”

A long pause followed.

“Whoever did this… they knew exactly what to look for. This wasn’t random.”

The old man leaned back, breathing slowly, fury simmering behind glassy eyes.

“What the hell is going on in Star Harbor…?”

He stood up, slowly, voice dropping to a lethal whisper.

“Send a team to analyze the scene. I want answers. Names. Faces. I want to know who dared to touch what was mine.”

“Y-Yes sir. Right away.”

The call ended.

He stood by the window, looking out over a vast, misty estate. His reflection in the glass was colder than the air outside.

“Don’t disappoint me again…” he muttered to himself.“Or you’ll join the forgotten.”

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