Howl of the Forgotten

AFTERSHOCKS

They didn’t go back to the office.

Elias didn’t say why.

Tessa didn’t ask.

The car moved through the city in quiet—no music, no idle conversation. Just the hum of the engine and the weight of what had happened still hanging between them.

Tessa sat beside him, hands steady in her lap, though her pulse hadn’t fully returned to normal.

She replayed the moment—

The way he moved.

Not like a corporate magnate.

Like someone who used to survive by his hands.

The car stopped in front of a high-rise overlooking the river. Steel and glass cutting into the fog. Private. Quiet.

His residence.

The driver opened Tessa’s door.

She hesitated.

Elias was already walking inside.

She followed.

---

The apartment was nothing like she expected.

No lavish displays.

No gold.

No curated art.

Just…

Space.

And silence.

Bookshelves, full.

Floor-to-ceiling windows.

A piano—left open, a sheet of music paused mid-page.

This was not the home of a man who flaunted wealth.

This was the home of a man who escaped noise.

“Sit,” Elias said gently—not commanding, not cold.

Tessa sat on the low sofa.

Elias stayed standing at the window, looking out at the river.

“You’re not going to ask what that was,” he said.

“No,” Tessa replied.

He turned slightly, enough to see her expression.

“Why?”

“Because if I needed to know now, you would tell me.”

His eyes held hers.

Most people demanded answers.

Needed reassurance.

Panicked when the world didn’t make sense.

Tessa didn’t.

That’s what unsettled him.

He took a slow breath.

“My father,” he said finally, “was not a kind man. But he was a thorough one. When I was young, I was taught that fear is never a weakness. Only ignorance is.”

That wasn’t a confession.

It was a truth.

Tessa listened. Not to respond. To understand.

“That café,” she said softly. “It’s the opposite of him.”

A flicker—gentle—crossed Elias’s face.

“Yes,” he said. “It was my mother’s way of fighting him.”

Silence. But not uncomfortable.

Tessa spoke again, voice low:

“And Cassandra?”

“She’s not the enemy,” Elias said. “She’s a messenger.”

“Then who’s the enemy?”

Elias looked back at the river—at the reflections broken by the current.

“Someone who thinks I should not exist.”

Tessa didn't ask why.

She didn’t need to.

She could feel it—buried history, unfinished war, the kind of danger that doesn’t announce itself.

Finally, Elias sat—across from her, not beside.

“Tessa,” he said, his tone quiet but unmistakably serious, “you have two choices now.”

Her pulse slowed.

She didn’t speak.

“You can walk away. Today. No penalty. No contract. No consequences.”

He held her gaze.

“Or you stay. And staying means you will see parts of this world you cannot unsee.”

Tessa didn’t look away.

“Do you want me to leave?” she asked.

“No,” he answered, without hesitation.

Her chest tightened—unexpectedly.

“Then I’m staying,” she said.

Not dramatic. Not emotional.

Just true.

Elias’s eyes softened, more than she’d ever seen.

“Then,” he said quietly, “I owe you something I rarely give.”

Tessa waited.

“The truth,” he finished.