Gunfire tore through the warehouse like a storm of steel and thunder.It came from every angle—roof, rafters, shadows, behind crates, above the catwalks—dozens of rifles firing in brutal, relentless bursts. The air filled with sparks, ricochets, and the sharp burn of gunpowder.But Ashton didn’t flinch.Not anymore.Not after watching Bernard fall lifeless in his arms.Something inside him snapped—something old, buried, and monstrous.The part of him he tried to bury for years.The part he swore he’d never unleash again.But tonight…Tonight the wolf woke.And it was starving.He laid Bernard gently on the ground, his movements chillingly calm. Then he stood—slowly, as if rising from a grave—and lifted his head toward the catwalk where the masked man watched.“Ashton Bane,” the masked man taunted, voice echoing, “welcome back to the animal you always were.”Ashton didn’t reply.He didn’t speak.He let instinct take over.A bullet hissed past him.He moved before he consciously knew he

Night settled over the estate like a heavy blanket, pressing down with a stillness that felt unnatural. The corridors were quiet, too quiet, as though the entire house was holding its breath. Annabelle felt it immediately — that subtle shift in the air that always came before something big, something irreversible.She stood by the balcony, arms folded, staring into the night sky. The stars were unusually dim, blurred by drifting clouds. Her mind raced, replaying the conversations she’d had earlier with Ashton and Bernard. The truth was creeping closer, tightening around all of them like a vice.Ashton found her first.He stepped onto the balcony, stopping quietly beside her. His presence was warm, grounding, but she didn’t turn. Not yet.“You disappeared after dinner,” he said softly.“I needed some air.”“You needed space,” Ashton corrected.Annabelle finally exhaled, her breath shaky. “Everything is changing too fast. Every time I think we’ve reached the end of the chaos, another do

Annabelle’s breath left her chest in one sharp, broken gasp. The message on Bernard’s phone stared back at her like a ghost she thought she had buried years ago. Adrian Crest — the man who controlled her past — was no longer a memory lurking in the shadows.He was present. Watching. Confident.And far too close.Bernard tightened his grip on the phone, his jaw locking with a slow, gathering fury she had never seen in him before. “He’s taunting us,” he said quietly, each word a simmering threat. “He wants you rattled. He wants control.”Ashton stepped toward her, placing a reassuring hand at the small of her back. “Annabelle, look at me.”She forced her eyes upward. He held her gaze with an anchored calm that steadied her trembling. “We’re not going to let him near you. Not now. Not ever.”But Annabelle shook her head slowly.“You don’t understand,” she whispered. “Adrian doesn’t stop. When he wants something — or someone — he doesn’t walk away. He hunts. He waits. He destroys.”A cold

Annabelle didn’t speak at first.She couldn’t.Her throat locked around the truth she’d run from for years — the truth Adrian had just dragged back into the room with one sentence on a piece of paper.Bernard watched her closely, arms crossed, posture sharp and assessing.Ashton moved slower — not with suspicion, but with concern. He crouched beside her again, voice steady:“Annabelle… what didn’t you tell us?”She wanted to answer.She tried to answer.But her chest pulled tight, breath snagging like her lungs had turned to wire. The room felt too small, too bright, too loud, even though no one was speaking.Bernard broke the silence first. “Did he force you to do something? Did he threaten someone close to you back then?”Annabelle shook her head.Ashton touched her hand gently. “Take your time.”A single tear slid down her cheek, and she swiped it away angrily. She hated crying like this — not from pain, but from shame that didn’t belong to her.Finally, she spoke, voice small but

The morning crept in with a gray quietness that felt too heavy for a new day. Nothing moved in the house except the slow breath of tension that had settled overnight. Annabelle woke with a start, her heart beating a little too fast, as if her body already knew something was coming before her mind could catch up.She sat upright, rubbing her face, trying to calm the unease curling in her stomach. The room looked the same—tidy, warm, safe—but she felt none of it. Because safety, she’d learned, wasn’t about walls or doors. It was about people. And the people in her life had begun to shift like sand under her feet.She got dressed slowly, rehearsing what she wanted—needed—to say to Ashton. Last night’s confrontation had left too many cracks, too many half-truths floating in the air like smoke. They couldn’t keep dancing around the shadows that kept growing between them. Not anymore.But just as she reached the staircase, she heard voices from below—low, tense, almost sharp. Ashton’s. Bern