The night outside Bernard’s estate was unnervingly still, the kind of quiet that didn’t soothe — the kind that made the hair on your arms lift because something in the dark was listening. Annabelle felt it immediately as she stepped outside with Ashton. Not fear. Just a sharp awareness, like her senses had woken up all at once.Ashton opened the passenger door for her, but before she got in, he paused and scanned the street. Not casually. Not the way someone might check for traffic. He studied the shadows, the corners, the rooftops, as though danger could slip out of the smallest crack.“Do you see anything?” Annabelle asked quietly.“No,” he murmured. “And that’s what bothers me.”She slid into the seat, and Ashton circled the car, his steps measured, deliberate. When he got in and shut the door, the silence inside felt heavier than the night outside.He didn’t start the engine immediately.He gripped the steering wheel, leaning back slightly, eyes fixed forward in deep thought. His

The night carried a strange heaviness, the kind that quieted even the most restless thoughts. It was not the calm that comes from peace, but the kind that comes before revelation—thick, watchful, waiting. The compound felt different too, as though every wall, every corridor, every silent corner already knew what was about to unfold long before any human tongue dared to speak it.The wind moved gently across the courtyard, stirring the dust in slow spirals. Lanterns flickered with uneasy brightness, throwing long trembling shadows across the ground. It was in that quiet, trembling stillness that the weight of everything finally settled on their shoulders.They gathered in the only room that still felt safe enough to breathe in—if “safe” could still exist after everything they had learned. The old table, scratched and bruised from a lifetime of meetings far less dangerous than this, stood between them like a silent witness.Dalen was the first to break the silence. His voice was low, as

The house felt different now—alive in a way that was neither comforting nor familiar. Every wooden beam, every cracked tile, every passageway seemed to pulse with a quiet, watchful energy, as if the structure itself had become aware of the hunt unfolding within its walls.Mira moved with precision, her steps soundless across the old stone floor. The lantern she carried cast a narrow band of light, cutting through the heavy darkness like a blade. The glow barely reached the walls, leaving long patches of shadow untouched, thick as tar.Jonas and Dalen had split off toward the northern wing, each taking a separate path. Their absence left a stretched stillness behind Mira—one that made every sound feel sharper, every heartbeat louder. Elder Varek remained in the central hall, securing the last defensive measures, his mind working faster than his trembling hands would ever admit.Mira paused at the intersection where three corridors met, the lantern flickering with the faintest draft. Sh

Morning arrived slowly, dragging itself across the horizon like a wounded beast. The estate was quiet—too quiet—holding a tension that felt like it could snap under the weight of a single breath.Annabelle sat by the window, legs pulled to her chest, staring out at the dim sky as though it held answers. Every part of her felt stretched thin. Between the betrayal, the truth about the Shaw family secret, Bernard’s sudden disappearance, and Ashton’s spiraling rage, she felt like she had been thrown into the eye of a storm with no way out.Footsteps approached. Heavy. Controlled. Familiar.Ashton.The door creaked open and he stepped inside, fully dressed in black, the kind he wore only when preparing for war. His hair was slightly disheveled, his jaw tight, and his eyes—those cold, dangerous eyes—looked like they’d been burning all night.“You didn’t sleep,” he said quietly, not a question.Neither did you, she wanted to say, but instead, Annabelle kept her gaze fixed on the sky. “There

Night fell like a heavy curtain, swallowing the world in a dark, suffocating quiet.The air outside the estate tasted different—colder, metallic, filled with the kind of silence that signals danger. Ashton walked straight into it, his steps steady, his breathing controlled, but inside his chest, war raged like wildfire.The car waiting for him was unmarked. Black. Quiet. Empty. He slid into the driver’s seat and gripped the steering wheel, knuckles whitening. His reflection in the windshield looked like a stranger—sharp, hollow-eyed, hardened.This wasn’t the man Annabelle had fallen for.This was the weapon he’d buried years ago.And tonight, he needed that weapon.He drove without music, without distraction, following the coordinates they sent him. The route felt familiar—an old industrial zone they once used for covert extractions. Now it stood abandoned, rusting, forgotten.Perfect for a trap.The deeper he went, the darker it became. Streetlights flickered, then vanished altogeth