Shadows Return
The storm outside had not stopped; it merely changed shape.
Rain no longer poured, but it whispered — a steady rhythm against the mansion's glass windows, like the calm before something cruel.
Clara barely slept that night. She sat by the window in Ethan's study, wrapped in one of his coats, her eyes tracing the outlines of the storm clouds. Downstairs, the guards had doubled. The entire house felt like a fortress under siege.
But it wasn't just Isabella she feared anymore.
It was the silence — and the things it might be hiding.
When dawn came, Ethan walked into the room, his shirt sleeves rolled up, a half-healed wound visible on his arm. His eyes were rimmed with exhaustion.
"You didn't sleep," he said softly.
"Neither did you," she replied.
He gave a faint smile — one that didn't reach his eyes — and set a cup of coffee beside her.
"There's something I need to tell you," he said. "Marcus… might not be the only one who's back."
Clara turned sharply. "What do you mean?"
He hesitated, glancing toward the dark window. "I got a message last night — anonymous. But the signature… I recognize it."
"Who?"
"Aiden."
Her heart lurched. "Aiden? The man who—?"
"Yes." Ethan's tone darkened. "The same one who kidnapped you, then vanished. He's working with someone now — I think Victor."
Clara froze. "That's impossible. Victor would never—"
"Victor would do anything for revenge," Ethan interrupted. "I ruined his career, exposed his deals. He swore he'd make me pay."
He turned away, running a hand through his hair. "And Aiden… he always wanted you. He's unpredictable, Clara. And together—"
"—they're dangerous," she finished quietly.
The weight of his words lingered like smoke.
Later that morning, Damien stormed in, holding his phone tightly. "Ethan, you need to see this."
He played a video — grainy security footage from one of Ethan's warehouses. A tall man with dark hair walked through the shadows, familiar and unhurried.
It was Aiden.
Behind him, barely visible, stood another figure — Victor.
Ethan's jaw tightened. "They're sending a message."
Damien nodded grimly. "They were careful — no cameras caught how they got in or out. Just this. Just enough to let you know they can."
Clara swallowed hard. "What do they want?"
Ethan's voice was low. "Me. Or you."
Her pulse spiked. "They won't touch me."
He looked at her then, eyes dark and sharp. "That's not a promise you can make, Clara. Not anymore."
By evening, Eleanor had woken. Her voice was still weak, but her spirit wasn't.
"They won't stop until they destroy everything you care about," she told Ethan quietly. "Marcus, Aiden, Victor — they all want one thing. Control."
Ethan stood near the fireplace, his silhouette sharp against the orange glow. "Then we take that control from them first."
Clara touched his arm. "How? You can't fight shadows, Ethan."
He met her gaze. "Then we drag them into the light."
But even as he said it, the mansion lights flickered once — then again.
And somewhere outside, a car engine roared before cutting abruptly into silence.
Ethan's hand went instinctively to his gun.
Damien rushed in. "We've got movement at the gate—"
The words were cut off by a single gunshot in the distance.
Then another.
The house plunged into darkness.