2025-09-29 01:41:46
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The voice behind the curtains
Morning arrived pale and uncertain, light bleeding through the curtains of the Parker estate. The storm had passed, but the silence it left behind felt unnatural, too still, too aware.Fiona sat at the dining table, untouched coffee cooling in front of her. Her eyes were fixed on the folded photograph beside it, the one from last night.Every detail was perfect: the warehouse, the rain, the expression on her face as she looked at Cole. It wasn’t just surveillance; it was intimate. Personal. Someone had been close, far too close.She looked up as Cole entered the room. He was already dressed, his movements precise, quiet. His expression gave nothing away, but there was a heaviness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.“You didn’t sleep,” she said softly.He didn’t deny it. “Neither did you.”She managed a weak smile. “Hard to, when someone out there’s watching us breathe.”Cole poured himself a cup of coffee, black and scalding. “That’s the point,” he murmured. “He wants us restl
The man in the shadow
The silence inside the warehouse turned heavy. The kind that breathes.Cole’s eyes narrowed as he looked toward the far corner, past the maze of crates and rusted beams. He didn’t move; his body remained still, but his senses reached far beyond the dark.Fiona felt it before she saw it, the prickle on her skin, the way the air seemed to change.“Cole?” she whispered.He didn’t answer. He just stepped slightly in front of her.A faint creak echoed from the rafters above. Then, the soft whine of static. A red light blinked once, twice, from the shadows.A hidden camera.Cole’s gaze locked on it, cold and precise. He reached into his coat and pulled a small metallic chip, pressed it between his fingers, and flicked it into the air. It struck the light dead center. A spark flashed, and the red glow died instantly.But it was too late.Whoever was on the other side had already seen what they needed to see.Cole exhaled slowly, his voice almost a growl. “Trojan.”Fiona blinked. “Trojan?”He
Into the unknown
The night pressed heavy against the Parker mansion. Rain tapped against the windows, steady and rhythmic, while silence ruled the halls. Everyone slept, everyone except Fiona.She lay awake, staring at the ceiling, her thoughts circling like restless birds.Cole’s words haunted her. If you stay by me, you’ll be hunted. You’ll be watched. You’ll never know peace again.What did that mean? Who was he really protecting her from?And then there was Blake smiling, charming, promising light where Cole gave only shadows. He had warned her too: He hides everything from you.The two truths clashed violently inside her, pulling her apart.Finally, she sat up, her heart pounding with reckless resolve. She couldn’t take the silence anymore. If Cole wouldn’t give her answers, she would find them herself.She slipped into a coat, careful not to wake anyone, and padded down the grand staircase. The house was dark, the servants asleep, the only sound the distant storm outside.When she reached the st
The man in the quiet
Cole Brady didn’t sleep.While the Parker estate sank into silence, he sat in the small, unlit study on the ground floor, a single candle burning low on the desk. The flicker of the flame caught the edges of his face, throwing shadows across the walls.On the desk lay a spread of papers, maps of the city, newspaper clippings, hand written notes in his precise script. Strings of information tied names to places, events to faces. Trojan. Ethan. Blake Morgan. Even Harold Parker himself.Cole’s hand moved slowly, drawing a line between two names. His expression was calm, but his eyes burned with thought.He already knew what Blake was doing. The man’s moves were loud, deliberate. The kind of maneuvers meant to dazzle those who wanted to believe in charm. Blake didn’t hide his blade, he polished it and waved it where everyone could see.Trojan, on the other hand, was a shadow player. He let others bleed first. And that made him far more dangerous.Cole leaned back, his chair creaking softl
Between the silence and the smile
The night had ended, but Fiona Parker’s mind was restless.The echo of laughter and clinking glasses still haunted the halls of the Parker estate. The guests had gone, the servants were cleaning, and her parents had retreated upstairs, pleased with the night’s “success.” Yet Fiona remained in the garden, seated on a stone bench beneath the glow of lanterns, her shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders.The autumn air was cool, but it wasn’t the chill that unsettled her. It was the silence.Blake’s laughter still rang in her ears, confident, warm, disarming. He had lit up the room effortlessly, making her father beam and her mother nod with approval. Every word had been a melody, every glance a promise of clarity.And then there was Cole.Cole, who had stood at the edge of the room, silent as a statue, watching everything with eyes that saw too much. His presence had been heavier than Blake’s words, though he had spoken almost none. When he finally did, his quiet reply, Truth isn’t a
The polished knife
The Parker estate was alive with the hum of laughter and clinking glasses. Harold had insisted on hosting a charity dinner that evening, a chance, he claimed, to reaffirm the family’s prestige in the city. For the Parkers, appearances were currency, and Harold was desperate to spend.Guests filled the grand hall, their polished shoes echoing against marble floors, their gowns glittering under the chandelier’s light. It was a theater of wealth, and every smile was a mask.Cole stood near the corner of the room, his presence as subtle as a shadow against the wall. His suit was plain compared to the shimmering attire around him, but he carried it with a quiet authority that drew eyes regardless.Across the room, Fiona moved through the guests gracefully, though her smile faltered each time her gaze drifted toward him. Their conversation from the night before still lingered in her mind, If I told you, you’d never sleep again.And then, like a rehearsed cue, Blake Morgan arrived.He steppe
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