Portia was on the verge of tears, her emotions swinging wildly between cursing out Uriah and begging him to save Mavis Shepherd. "If anything happens to Mavis, you''ll answer to both of us!" she shouted, voice trembling.


    Calliope, by contrast, kept her cool. She listened intently, fired off the urgent questions, and instructed Uriah in a steady tone. "Do not let Mavis out of your sight. Whatever it takes, keep her alive until I get there."


    She had pieced together Mavis''s condition from what little she''d heard, but it wasn''t enough; she couldn''t confirm anything from a distance. And even if they went forward, the surgery she was contemting would be risky—almost impossibly so. Calliope knew: this was a procedure only she could handle.


    If Uriah''s doctors had any idea what they were doing, he wouldn''t have sounded so broken on the phone. She understood what that meant.


    "How soon can you get here?" Uriah asked, hisposure barely holding on at the other end of the line.


    "I''m not sure yet, but I''ll make it as quickly as possible," Calliope replied, her voice like frost. “Just follow every instruction I give you. Mavis must still be breathing by the time I arrive."


    As long as Mavis still had a pulse, there was hope. But if she lost that, nothing-no skill, no miracle—would bring her back.


    The crisis brought out a sharp, icy focus in Calliope. The moment she hung up on Uriah, she began dialing others—making arrangements, issuing quick, efficient orders. It was a flurry of calls, one after another, until finally she set her phone aside.


    Portia, still sobbing, watched as Calliope swept through the room, methodically packing her bag. Only when Calliope was nearly finished did Portia realize, "Callie, what do we do now? Are you going to Mavis? Let mee with you!"


    "You can''t. It''s dangerous, and you''d only be at risk there," Calliope answered, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Besides, I need you here. There''s work to do on this end. If the surgery goes well, I''meed you to prep things for us back here to be ready for Mavis''s return."


    Calliope''s clinical detachment was almost unsettling, yet it was that very same coldness that finally pulled Portia back from the edge of panic.


    "You know Mavis''s condition better than I do. Based on what Uriah told you... what do you think? Does she have a chance? Is there any hope?" Portia looked up at her, desperate for reassurance.


    To the world, the three of them were just friends, but to each other, they were family. Mavis, the quiet one, was fiercely loyal the kind of person who never needed to say a word, yet would always be there when you needed help.


    Portia remembered crying to Mavis once after a man mistreated her. Mavis hadn''t said a single thing at the time, but the next day that man


    showed up battered and he


    never dared bother Portia. Portia again Thinking back, Portia''s eyes filled


    with fresh tears.


    "She''s so young. She''s never caught a break. Always risking her life on these insane, dangerous,


    assignments. She deserves better! Portia cried, her voice cracking. "This is al Uriah''s fault-he calls himself her mentor, but what has he ever done except hurt her?"


    "Callie, you have to save her. Mavis has nothing except us. We''re all she has," she pleaded, her gaze begging.


    "I know," Calliope said, closing her suitcase with a determined click. She stood up. "I''ll need you to take care of some things for me here. I''ll let the right people know— just make sure you keep an eye on the things I bought at the auction, alright?"


    "And when I''m gone, don''t let yourself worry. I might not be able to reach you, but don''t be afraid—I''ll take care of myself. And I''ll bring Mavis home."