♠ ʙɪᴛᴛᴇʀꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ♠ | ꜰɪᴠᴇ ʜᴀʀɢʀᴇᴇᴠᴇꜱ | ʙᴏᴏᴋ 1

|♠ 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗅𝖺 ♠|

"Dance is your pulse, your heartbeat, your breathing. It's the rhythm of your life. It's the expression in time and movement, in happiness, joy, sadness and envy." 

Jacques d'Amboise

"SO, WHAT, YOU JUST LET HER GO?" Diego asked, lying on the couch.

"Well, Vanya had a lot to process," Five said, pacing the room. He sighed, muttering. "She'll come around. I know she will."

"What about the guys that went after her?" Diego questioned.

"The Swedes?" I filled in. I was sitting on the couch opposite Diego and Lila. After the little talk Five and I had, I went straight to one of the armchairs and passed out, waking up pretty late in the morning.

"Yeah, them. I mean, how do you know they won't go after her again?" Diego asked as Elliott came over carrying two cups of coffee. Lila and I glanced at each other as she reached for a cup. Last night, we had talked to Mom, and apparently she had sent them.

"We don't," Five answered blandly.

"Mm," Lila said, taking a sip of her drink, "any idea who sent them?"

"Oh, I have my suspicions," Five said, taking a coffee and beginning to pace, his eyes fixing onto me. I raised a brow at him. Did he know? "But right now," he continued, "our priority is finding Dad and getting answers, 'cause everything else depends on it." Finally, he sat down.

"Which, for the record, I found him already," Diego began.

"And then let him go," Five stated, smiling pleasantly, "before we could have a meaningful conversation."

"He stabbed me," Diego said bluntly.

"I'm surprised he waited this long, Diego. We've all had the urge."

Lila laughed, and Elliott chuckled a little bit as he brought another cup of coffee and handed it to me. I smiled at him in thanks and took a sip, swallowing the burning hot drink. "Good one," my sister said with a grin, holding out a hand in a high five for the boy.

Five ignored her, blinking in annoyance. "Good thing I know where Dad's gonna be tonight."

"And where's that?" I asked as Lila dropped her arm.

Five glanced at me and handed me a paper. I stared at it before taking it and skimming. It was a letter, inviting their father, Sir Reginald Hargreeves, to a gala. "Where'd you get this?"

"Found it at his office," Five replied, glancing at Diego and gesturing to him, "while he was busy stabbing you."

Diego chuckled sarcastically and reached out, snatching the paper from my hands. "'Hoyt Hillenkoetter and the Consulate General of Mexico in Dallas,'" Diego read, "'cordially invite you to a gala.'"

"Woah, wait," Elliott said. "Hoyt...Hillenkoetter? Are you serious?"

Everyone glanced up, confused. "You know him?" Five asked with suspicion.

Lila gasped, eating some sort of biscuit and still gazing at the letter. "We should go." She glanced at Diego, who in turn looked at her curiously. "Says there's gonna be a seafood tower."

"No, Hillenkoetter is...is one of the Majestic Twelve."

"The hell is the Majestic Twelve?" Diego asked.

"What?" Elliott said quietly, as if surprised we didn't know them. Lila fed Diego a biscuit as the man went over to his desk and cupboards, searching around for something. "It's a...a secret committee. Uh, scientists, military, uh, deep state. No one knows what they really do."