Alister
The hallway that smells of antiseptics stretches before me, lined with closed doors and overhead lights casting dull glows on the sterile white walls. The sound of thunder rumbling outside is a good distraction from my aching body that hurts with every step and the current mess in my head.
A TV on the wall nearby emphasizes the chaos. "Mansion Fire Engulfs Highland Estate—Several Rescued from Blaze"
After I woke up to a blood IV attached to my arm, crying family members surrounding me, and a worn-out Simon with a broken arm, I needed to know everything.
According to Simon, who explained after I had my family leave the room, only four of us were brought to the hospital. There was no Zach and Micah. Or my car, which the bastard probably used to run away.
After Clara lost consciousness, minutes later, I did too. Simon said he smelled something burning in the house. While he dragged us both out, he found Steph already unconscious out in the garden. Zach must have done that before leaving. When the ambulance and police arrived, Simon was questioned. Thankfully, he claimed amnesia and didn't reveal anything. Not even as revenge for how we lied to him. I had to suck it up and apologize to him for that, knowing Clara would yell at me if I didn't.
What's odd is that the bodies of Rubecca and Reeze were never found. Nor was that ritual circle. The bigger picture is that someone made sure the evidence was destroyed in the fire, that nothing could trace back to what really happened. It couldn't be Zach because he'd gain nothing from it. Perhaps it's someone who Clara spotted in the window. We were being watched the entire time. The issue is, is that someone a friend or foe? They didn't get involved until the end. Neither helping us nor Leora. Like a person at a theater, watching the show.
I stop in front of room 303. I stay just outside the door, watching through the small rectangular window.
Steph's sleeping in bed. On the couch near the wall, her brunette maid sits hunched forward, fingers curled tightly around a disposable coffee cup. Her posture is weary, as if she hasn't slept in hours.
My gaze drifts to the side table beside the bed, where a small bouquet of pink tulips rests in a white vase. The flowers are fresh, wrapped in the same brown crinkle paper as the lavenders in my room. I see who they're from now.
I knock once on the door. The maid—Beth—jerks upright and hurries to open it. "Yes?"
"Did you contact her brother?" I ask.
She lowers her eyes to the floor, clearly depressed that Steph has no family member to stay by her side. "He won't pick up. As usual."
"Keep trying,"
Beth nods and closes the door softly as I move on to the next room. Clara's room. My lovely savior. The quiet beep of the monitors greet me as I step inside. The cold air makes the room feel even emptier.
Clara looks devastatingly fragile. A clear IV line runs. The heart monitor beside her beeps steadily, each sound a small reassurance that she's still here, still alive. Faint bruises in deep shades of violet bloom across her arms. Beside her, a bouquet of lilies in brown paper bloom in a vase.
She's always been strong, but seeing her beautiful self battered, feels so wrong. I reach out, brushing aside the strands of hair from her face. My fingers ghost over her cheek, warm beneath my touch despite how still she is.
I rest my forehead against hers, closing my eyes for a moment. The rain outside the window taps against the glass, each drop a quiet reminder of her words to me.
"It's raining," I whisper. "You said the next time it rains, we'd dance together under it." I pull back just enough to look at her, searching for any sign that she might hear me. A dry, hollow chuckle escapes me. "Feels like I learned the steps for nothing if you're just gonna sleep through it all," I murmur, brushing my thumb gently on her lips. "So, wake up already."
But she doesn't. And the rain keeps falling.
I pull out the creased paper in my pocket. The lastest one from Crystal.
'Liars and ungrateful ones, the pact is broken. Your shadows are no longer ours to protect. Be prepared for whatever happens to you now.'
And below it, I reread my message to her. One that I plan to send back once the rain ends. My declaration of war. The first crucial step to my plans.
From the corner of my eye, the bathroom door creaks open.
I hide it in my pocket just as her uncle steps out, rubbing a damp towel over his face. There are deep lines around his eyes. He's dressed in a wrinkled button-up like he's been wearing them for far too long. The moment his eyes land on me, they sharpen. "You're one of the people they brought in with her. A friend?"
I nod.
Without another word, he moves toward the blue leather couch against the wall. I step around Clara's bed and sink into the chair beside it.
"So what happened?" He exhales, rubbing a hand over his face. "At the mansion, I mean."
The question is expected, but something about the way he asks it feels... off. Like he's curious—concerned, even—but not nearly as shaken as he should be. Not in the way someone should be when their family has been through something like this.
"We were kidnapped," I say smoothly. "They were probably only after Clara when she was staying with us, but...we intervened and got tangled up too. They seemed like they belonged to a criminal organization. Their goal was to get Clara… use her as a hostage."
He leans back against the couch, tapping his fingers idly against the armrest. "You'll need to tell the police everything so they can catch them."
I raise a brow. "Aren't you going to use your connections to find out?" The question lands like a pebble in still water. Small, but enough to send ripples.
"I don't know what you're talking about. I trust the police to handle such matters. Plus, I'm busy as it is with what's going on at the company."
"Busy?" I repeat. "Sorry, I just assumed the next CEO wasn't burdened with too many duties and responsibilities. Seeing as you're here instead of having someone else sit by her side."
Irritation flashing across his face like a spark catching dry wood. "She's my niece. Why wouldn't I want to stay beside her?"
"Because you have an ulterior motive."
The muscles in his face go taut, but I continue, letting my words cut through whatever thin veil of concern he's trying to maintain. "I assume the investigation into your brother's crimes isn't going well? Or wrapping up quickly just like you want it? Must be frustrating. Knowing the only person who might have the answers is the one who ran away from home—and is still unconscious."
He must have figured out that Clara was the one who leaked the confidential info. That's why he's here to question her about it while acting like the caring uncle who is happy to see his niece alive and well.
"...I don't like you."
I smirk, leaning back against the chair with an easy smirk. "You'll hate me more once you really get to know me." I give him a moment, letting the tension settle before casually adding. "But...that was a little harsh, though. Especially since I was actually considering handing you the recording Clara has of your brother's confession to his crimes."
Color drains from his face like someone just yanked the floor out from under him. I let him stew in his own thoughts. Because the longer I keep him waiting, the more desperate he'll become. And desperate people make mistakes.
"I know just how important it will be. It's your one-way ticket to speeding up the CEO process and scrubbing off any potential mud that might've splattered on you because of this whole situation."
As proof, I play the recording in which Clara had cleverly edited out the parts that made her look suspicious. After 2 minutes I pause and wait for him to talk.
He pinches the bridge of his nose. "What do you want?"
I lean forward slightly, keeping my expression casual, almost lazy. I need him to think I'm just another opportunist looking for a favor. Something small.
"Your shady connections and your ties to dangerous people. There's no way you don't have them. Let's not waste our time arguing about that. But once you're in charge, you'll have influence in places most people can't even imagine. Connections like that are invaluable."
"Why?"
"I need to find that criminal organization that did this to us. To track them down, I'll need people who know how to get information. How to move in the shadows. And I need them to keep an eye on Clara, Stephanie Hans, Zachary Benedict, Simon Anderson, their families, and mine."
I want his network to get me the resources I need. Help me keep my people safe. I need him to understand the urgency.
Finally, he sighs, his voice resigned. "Fine. I'll help you. But remember, this doesn't come without strings attached. Try anything funny, and I'll make sure you regret it. Understand?" he says, moving towards the corner of the room.
Satisfied, I glance back at Clara and let my fingers gently curl around hers, feeling the warmth of her skin against my own.
"You're really shameless to touch her in front of her family," the weight of his gaze like a silent challenge while he pours the coffee into his mug.
"You sound as if you care about her."
"Of course," he replies casually.
Frustration stirs inside me. Control yourself, Alister. Don't let him get to you. Not now, not when you've got everything in place.
But despite my resolve, the words spill out.
"Yet you never noticed what she was going through in her own home. How she was being treated. The bruises she desperately tried to cover up."
"I had no idea," his fingers tightening on the mug as his eyes flick to Clara uncomfortably. I can sense the guilt buried beneath his defensive tone.
"It's not that you didn't sense something was wrong. It's that you refused to make anything of it. Refused to even entertain the possibility that your precious niece was going through something you could've fixed if you cared enough." I should probably stop. But It's not just about him being a coward. Its about Clara. She deserves better than this pathetic excuse for a guardian.
"Alister?"
Our gazes fly towards Clara as she flutters her eyes open. I stand when she tries to sit up, wincing. Despite trying to make her lie down, she stubbornly does it anyway.
Her uncle moves to her and strokes her head. "How are you feeling?"
She offers a small smile, though there's a tightness around her mouth that betrays the pain she's still carrying. "As if I've been slammed against a wall. But other than that, good. When do I get discharged from here?"
"It'll be a few days because of the rib fractures. After that, you'll get to go home."
I raise a brow. "Why would she be staying with you?"
He turns to glare at me. "Who else is she going to stay with if not her family? I'm certainly not letting her get anywhere near the likes of you."
Clara's ocean eyes flicker between us, confusion written on her face, and I can see the uncertainty clouding her judgment.
"It's fine. It'll only be temporary until I get better and find a new place or something."
The part of me that wants to argue wars with the part of me that knows it's not the right time. Instead I focus on what I can control. I'm sure there's a vacancy in my apartment complex somewhere—hell, I'll make sure no one moves in until she figures out what she wants. Let her make her own choices.
I was thinking of asking her to stay with me, like roommates—but it sounds too forward for my taste. Not to mention where her mind will go when the words leave my mouth.
Although...it won't be far from the truth this time.
Her uncle lets his hand linger on her head. "If...you ever need anything, anything at all, just tell me. I know I haven't always been the most... present. And I won't pretend I've done right by you. But I just… want you to know that I'm still here."
She stares at him wide-eyed. Her fingers grip the blanket like she needs something solid to hold on to. "Okay. I'll remember that."
Maybe...he really does care for her, like he said. It's not the grand gesture I'd hoped for, but it's something.
"Could you get me something from the cafeteria?" she asks him quietly.
Just before he leaves, he shoots me a sharp, warning glance so I don't try anything funny while he's gone.
As soon as the door clicks shut, Clara's gaze shifts from the door to me with a sharp, suspicious look. "What did you say to him?"
I tilt my head slightly, keeping my expression neutral. "Nothing. Just had a chat with him. He really is nice, like you said."
"Let me be clear." She leans her head back against the wall. A stiff smile stretches on her face. "Don't try to play your old tricks on him too. Thanks to Lily, I have secret records of all the crimes you've committed. So it's best you be careful."
My knees feel weak as I stumble back onto the chair. It's then that I finally realize what Lev meant that day.
I know when a leash is being tied around my neck.
It didn't make sense for her to give me that recording when she could have used it to get whatever she wanted from her uncle. But I see now that she would have gotten everything regardless of any deal because she knew her uncle cared for her. But giving it to me, and having me make a deal, meant she's not only allowing me to get a taste of everything I've ever wanted but also making sure I'm going to do anything to keep it. Including obeying her every command to keep her from taking all of it back.
"You want to control me." I say, squinting at her. While I don't mind it if it's her, the fact that I was willing to die just so Leora won't have any control over me should speak for itself.
"I want to protect you. From yourself." Her gaze softens. "You take such drastic measures to ensure everything goes the way you want to, even if it puts your life at risk, without ever asking for help. And you only do that when it's the last resort. Do you have any idea how scared I was when I thought you'd actually die?" She clenches the blankets tightly, closing her eyes to calm herself and not break down. "No more secrets. No more trying to sacrifice yourself. And no more lies. We do everything together, or I swear, I'm going to destroy you."
Now it's my turn to smile. "Whatever you say." If only I didn't have to resist myself, I could already see how easy it is to find loopholes in this trap of hers. She hasn't stated what I can and can't do, leaving everything so vague. But she just...looks so smug and precious I don't have the heart to contradict her.
"How's Micah?"
Right...I should have prepared for this.
"Zach ran away with him and the book in my car. Escaping the scene before the ambulance showed up."
"What!?" She yells suddenly, anxious while biting her thumbnail.
"He won't hurt him if that's what you're worried about." I shrug. She looks at me like I've said the dumbest thing imaginable.
"Alister, he's out for revenge. He's going to lure the hunters to himself using the kid." She says and stares down at her lap. "I told Micah I'd come for him after the ritual. That I won't leave him alone. And now he's going to face that danger all over again."
I'm glad I haven't told her that Zach might be a cannibal. That would have freaked her out even more.
"Promise you'll save him. As soon as possible." She says, looking straight at me with such intensity I wonder if she's hypnotising me.
"I already plan to confront Zach when I get the chance and settle the score with him. While I appreciate a thirst for vengeance, I don't like it when it affects me in the process. Plus he has my car."
She scowls. "You care more about your car?"
I can't help but grin and shift closer, watching color flood to her cheeks. "I care about what's mine." My fingers brush along her jaw, tilting her face up whether she means to let me or not. The annoyance in her eyes melts unwillingly into desire when I lean closer, mouth begging to be devoured.
"Alister, I—" She mumbles against my lips before I jolt back, staring at the door window. And the scene I just witnessed.
"What happened?" Clara frowns, glancing over to it before looking at me, concerned and a little heartbroken.
"Nothing," I assure her with a smile, trying to stay calm. "I'll be right back. Get some rest." But it deepens her worried frown. I cup her face in my hands and press my lips onto her forehead. "Relax. Someone just called me outside."
I walk to the door and open the door in such a way she doesn't see the limp body of her uncle lying next to it. Or the hallway filled with unconscious people. Once outside, I carefully pull the IV out of my arm and look around, ready to face anyone who dares to face us, thinking I'd be too weak to fight.
They found us. I wasn't expecting it to be so quick.
My eye falls to the hooded figure standing at the end of the hallway to my right. Fully covered by a brown cloak. I move toward it, hand outstretched, power coiling in my chest—
And then I freeze.
Every muscle locks as if my body has been dipped in ice. Nerves screaming commands my limbs refuse to obey. Horrified, I can only watch as the figure begins to walk closer. With every barefooted step, black smoke seeps from the floor beneath them. Outside a window, I see raindrops frozen in the air.
"Stop," I warn. What artifacts is this person using? It must be a powerful one to cause so many things at once.
Suddenly, I'm forced onto my knees hard enough to jar my teeth. Pain flares, but my gaze stays fixed on the perpetrator. The hooded figure isn't looking at me. Its looking at Clara's room.
"No," I whisper, panic detonating in my chest. No, no, no. "Stop it!" I strain against my own skin, every muscle burning as I fight for control. They're going to hurt her. They're going to take her from me. I won't let that happen.
The figure steps around me, smoke curling around my knees, close enough now that the air tastes wrong.
"Please," I choke, not caring how humiliating I sound. Not caring about anything. "Please, leave her alone." My voice cracks as the figure stops.
A snort reaches my ears, and I don't look away from the figure as it slowly turns to me. "You really did love me, huh?"
I tell myself the familiar sweet voice is an illusion. The person pushes back the hood. The sleeves lower to reveal slender arms covered in intricate scars similar to the ones from the books of artifacts. But the face is what makes me want to wake up from this nightmare.
Despite the long snow-white hair, everything else is the same. The rosy cheeks. The big sapphire-blue eyes. The soft pink lips I've kissed, argued with, memorized, now twisted with pure disgust. "How revolting." She continues.
"You're not Clara," I whisper, clinging to the words like a lifeline and ignoring how two fingernails on her hand look different.
My gaze drags over the lines etched into her arms, and she smiles. "Your handiwork." As if to show off, she pulls up her long black skirt till her knees. The same carvings spiral up her legs, disappearing beneath fabric, promising more. As if her body has been turned into a living manuscript. "You're really into this look."
"I would never—"
"Innate nature can't be changed. Just like a tiger can never change its stripes," Her head tilts. "Or how a snake would always remain cold-blooded."
Something snaps inside me. "You..." I strain against the invisible hold, fury roaring through me. "I don't know what you are, but using her like this, I'll kill you for it. I swear I will."
The imposter's smile falters and she simply stares at me. Teary eyes brimming with things she wishes she could say. When her gaze falls to a black line on her wrist shortening by every second, she lets out a trembling sigh. "Do me a favor, please."
Suddenly, the pressure crushing my limbs evaporates in an instant, and the rain outside continues to pour. I surge to my feet and lunge. All the fear, all the rage, all the helplessness condenses into my fist as I swing at her face with everything I have.
"Don't love me."
My punch tears through empty air. Her body explodes into drifting specks of dust, scattering like ash caught in a draft. I stumble forward, breath ripping from my lungs, staring at the floor. A single strand of hair lies there as if to remind me it wasn't a hallucination.
I hear fractures spider-webbing inside me and into my throat. I can't breathe. I can't think. I just stand there as the rain keeps falling down along with everything good in my life.