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83
Author: Magical Inspirations
last update2025-07-08 13:44:04

By the time Ethan finished handling everything—the calls, the encrypted messages, the shifting pieces on the board—it was well past midnight. He stood outside the apartment door for a long moment, staring at it, the steel in his eyes softening.

Inside, Alice had fallen asleep on the couch again, her legs tucked beneath her, the book still loosely gripped in one hand. Her head jerked up the second the door clicked shut behind him.

“Oh,” she blinked, trying to hide that she’d dozed off. “You’re back.”

Ethan walked over slowly, his voice low. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t.” She yawned despite herself and sat up straighter, setting the book aside. “Is everything okay?”

He paused, eyes searching her face. She looked tired, but beautiful in that soft, vulnerable way that made something in his chest clench. “Handled,” he replied simply. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

She nodded slowly, watching him as he shrugged off his coat. Then, a small hesitation crept into her voice.

“Um… s
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  • 290

    Ethan stepped closer, eyes locked on John. He could see it now—not with sight alone, but with something deeper. Veins darkened beneath John’s skin, pulsing as though something were crawling through them. The shadows around his chest thickened, clinging unnaturally.“You didn’t cure him,” Ethan said coldly. “You poisoned him. Or worse—you empowered it.”Morrison turned on him, anger flashing. “I told you to stay out of this. You’re not a physician—”A sudden scream cut him off.John cried out in agony, a raw, broken sound that echoed off the stone walls. His back arched violently, and for a split second, a dark shape pressed outward against his chest, as though something inside him were trying to tear its way free.Chris stumbled back, horror etched across his face. “What… what is happening to him?!”Ethan moved without thinking. He planted himself beside the bed, one hand hovering over John’s chest. The air beneath his palm burned cold, like frost and fire colliding.“This thing,” Eth

  • 289

    Chris turned to Ethan, disappointment burning in his eyes. “I welcomed you into my home,” he said coldly. “I allowed you near my father out of respect for your name. And this is how you repay it? By sowing fear and insulting the man trying to save him?” Ethan stared at him. “Chris, listen to me. I would never—” “No,” Chris cut in sharply. “You will listen to me.” He took a breath, steadying himself, but his voice remained hard. “I did not allow you into this house to cause chaos. I did not bring you here to disrupt my father’s treatment with wild accusations and… supernatural nonsense.” Morrison folded his arms, a thin, satisfied smile creeping back onto his face. “Exactly,” he said smoothly. “Grief and desperation often drive men to delusion.” Ethan’s fists clenched. “You’re blind,” he said quietly. “Both of you. That thing inside him—” “Stop,” Chris said flatly. “Every word you say further proves my mistake.” He turned toward Morrison. “Doctor, please continue. Do not let thi

  • 288

    Morrison’s eyes swept over Ethan with thinly veiled disdain, as if the very presence of another adult male in the room were an inconvenience to his attention.Chris cleared his throat and held out a folder. “Dr. Morrison, did you get the latest medical report?”Morrison took it with a practiced motion, scanning the pages with a raised brow. “I don’t need the latest report to know Mr. Hadel’s condition,” he said smoothly, almost with a sigh, as if the answer were obvious. “I’ve studied him thoroughly. I’ve devised a treatment that will work.”Chris’s eyes lit up with hope. “A treatment?”“Yes,” Morrison said, voice firm and confident, almost theatrical. “I have developed a cell-repair serum—cutting-edge, experimental, revolutionary. When injected, it will repair damaged cells, restore vitality, and allow Mr. Hadel to recover fully.”Chris’s face broke into a wide smile. “That… that’s incredible! You truly are the city’s finest.”Ethan remained silent, his mind ticking. Something about

  • 287

    “Ethan,” Chris began, still holding his shoulders lightly, “I want you to understand… what you ask is… complicated.” Ethan tilted his head, sensing the shift. “Complicated?” he repeated cautiously. “I need allies. The Watsons are mobilizing. If we do not act now, everything—everything our families built—will crumble. I am offering you the chance to stand together. To honor the Storm legacy.” Chris stepped back, releasing Ethan’s shoulders. The warmth had gone, replaced with a cold formality. “You misunderstand me, Ethan,” he said, voice tight, carefully measured. “I am glad you have returned. I do not deny your blood, nor the history you carry. But I cannot—will not—risk my house in a war with the Watsons.” Seeing Ethan’s deception, he quickly add, “our house… is too weak,” he said, the words heavy with careful caution. “My father… John… is gravely ill. I cannot risk my people in open conflict while he remains in this state.” Ethan nodded slowly, keeping his expression calm. “I

  • 286

    “Take him out,” the patriarch ordered. “He is not welcome. The Storms are finished. You are nothing to us.” Ethan struggled, trying one last time to reach them. “Listen to me! I am Storm! I am one of you! The family still lives in me! I will not be ignored!” The guard shoved him hard. Ethan stumbled. “Hold him!” another barked. The next shove sent him crashing against the hall doors. Pain flared, but his eyes remained locked on the Saler patriarch. “You think this ends with a shove?” Ethan growled, teeth gritted. The patriarch’s face was stone. “Your family is dead. You are nothing here. Out. Now.” A pair of guards forced him forward. Ethan struggled, but the combined weight of numbers was too much. The doors swung open. Ethan stumbled outside, dust kicking up around his boots. He looked back once. The hall shimmered in golden lamplight. The faces of those who once should have been allies stared back with disbelief, shock, and finality. “Impossible…” someone wh

  • 285

    Outside, the cold night air cut through the heat still clinging to Ethan’s skin.He stood beneath a flickering streetlight, neon glow fading behind him, and pulled out his phone.For a moment, he stared at the screen.This is the moment, he thought. If I don’t move now, the gathering becomes a trap I can’t escape.He dialed.The call connected on the first ring.“Young master.”The voice was old. Calm. Steeped in loyalty that hadn’t faded with time.Ethan closed his eyes briefly. “I ran into Michael Watson.”A sharp pause.“…Alive?”“Barely.”Another pause—this one heavier.“I asked him for informations about the Watson family, and he gave me a valuable one,” Ethan continued. “The Watson family is holding a major gathering next week. Elders. Enforcers. Hunters. Everyone.”The voice exhaled slowly.“I won’t walk into that alone,” Ethan said. “The Watsons are too entrenched. Too prepared. I need allies—Storm allies. Who’s left?”Silence stretched, then—“The world forgot the Storm famil

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