Before The Storm

Michele’s POV

The house finally began to settle again after sunset, but it did not feel peaceful.

The air carried that strange weight that came after a long night of tension, the kind that refused to leave even when the day changed. I had sent half the men to rest and replaced them with a fresh rotation, but their eyes still carried the same unease.

Nothing about the last twenty-four hours had been normal.

I stood at the large window in my study, staring out into the dark garden. The grass was slick from the earlier rain, and the faint smell of earth drifted in through the open frame. The lights along the fence glowed faintly, each one newly checked, each one tied to a system that I now trusted less than before.

Two intrusions in two nights. Two bodies. And still, no clear message.

They were testing us. Watching how I would respond.

My phone buzzed quietly on the desk. Enzo’s message flashed across the screen: Tracker analysis complete. No active signal. Possible decoy.

I typed back quickly. Understood. Keep two men watching the east wall until sunrise.

He replied a minute later. Already done. You should rest.

I didn’t.

Rest was for people who could afford to close their eyes without expecting something to change before they opened them again. I was not one of those people.

I moved from the window to the desk and sat down. The file from the morning still lay open. Inside were photos from the scene, the body near the fence, the knife that had cut my side, the broken tracker. All the pieces of a puzzle I did not yet understand.

I tried to focus, but my mind kept drifting elsewhere.

Back to the dining room earlier, where Erin had sat across from me, quiet and thoughtful. He had tried to hide his worry, but it was written all over his face. The way his eyes lingered on the bandage. The way his voice softened when he told me to rest.

He didn’t understand what kind of world this was. And somehow, that made me want to shield him from it even more.

It was supposed to be simple when I hired him. A nanny, nothing more. Someone kind and patient for Luca. Someone who could bring calm to a house built on violence.

But simplicity had a way of breaking when feelings began to blur the lines between people.

I rubbed my temple and closed the file. My body ached from exhaustion, but my thoughts refused to slow down.

A knock came at the door.

“Come in,” I said.

Enzo entered, his clothes still damp from the night air. “We finished sweeping the perimeter again. Nothing new. Whoever was here last night knew exactly what to do.”

“Inside help?”

He hesitated. “Possibly. But no one’s cracked since the interviews. Everyone’s scared, though. That might be good for now.”

“Fear keeps them alert,” I said. “But not for long. It turns to mistakes if you let it sit.”

He nodded. “What about the boy and the nanny? Should I move them to the guest wing for safety?”

I shook my head. “No. They stay where they are. Moving them draws attention. Keep the guards posted instead.”

Enzo hesitated again, his voice lowering. “You’ve been in this office all day. You should check on them. The boy’s been asking for you.”

That made me pause.

I looked down at the papers on my desk — at all the work, all the plans, all the small pieces of control I had been clinging to. And yet the thought of Luca waiting upstairs, probably sitting with Erin watching cartoons, pulled at me in a way none of this did.

“I’ll go,” I said finally.

Enzo gave a small nod, like he already knew I would.

When he left, I leaned back in my chair for a moment before standing. The ache in my side flared again, dull and familiar. I pressed my palm against it and walked toward the hallway.

The house was quiet now. The guards moved silently at their posts, nodding as I passed. The corridors were filled with that soft golden light that made everything look calm even when it wasn’t.

As I climbed the stairs, I could hear faint voices from down the hall — the sound of the television, a low laugh, then silence.

When I reached Luca’s room, the door was half open.

Inside, the boy was asleep on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, a half-finished drawing still clutched in his hand. Erin sat beside him, reading something from a small book, his hair falling over his forehead.

He looked tired, but peaceful.

For a moment, I stood there without saying anything. Just watching them.

It was strange, how something so ordinary could feel rare. The world outside this room had been built on fear and strategy, but here, there was something softer. Something that didn’t belong to my world at all.

When I finally stepped inside, Erin looked up quickly, startled.

“Oh,” he said, setting the book down. “I didn’t hear you.”

“I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t.” His voice was quiet, careful. “He fell asleep a while ago. He wanted to wait for you.”

“I figured.”

I looked at the boy for a moment longer. His face was relaxed, his breathing steady. The small pencil mark on his hand made me smile faintly. “He’s resilient.”

Erin smiled too. “He is. You must be proud.”

“I am.”

There was a pause, then I said, “You’re tired.”

“I could say the same to you.”

He was right. The exhaustion had settled deep in my bones. But I didn’t want to leave just yet.

“Did the guards tell you about the tracker?” I asked.

He nodded. “A little. Enough to know it’s not over.”

“It will be soon.”

He didn’t argue, but his eyes said he didn’t believe me completely.

“You’re doing more than your job requires,” I said after a moment. “You didn’t have to stay up last night.”

He gave a small shrug. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Still. You handled yourself well.”

He looked down, almost shyly. “You said that before.”

“Then I’ll say it again.”

His lips curved slightly, but he didn’t answer. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was quiet, like the air between us was learning to breathe again.

I sat down on the chair across from him, careful not to wake the boy. The lamp beside the couch cast a soft light across the room.

“Do you think they’ll come back?” he asked after a while.

“They always come back for something,” I said. “But not tonight.”

He looked at me, his eyes searching mine. “And if they do?”

“Then they’ll regret it.”

Something in my tone made him glance away, but he nodded. “I believe you.”

I wasn’t sure why those words affected me more than they should have. Maybe because belief wasn’t something people offered me freely anymore.

We sat there for a few minutes longer, the silence between us filled only by the sound of Luca’s soft breathing.

When Erin finally stood to pull the blanket higher over the boy, I saw his hands tremble slightly. The day had taken its toll on him too.

“You should rest,” I said again.

He nodded. “I will.”

But he didn’t move toward his room. He just stood there, unsure, like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

I waited.

Finally, he said quietly, “Thank you for checking on us.”

“You’re under my roof,” I said simply. “It’s my job.”

“Still.”

He smiled faintly, then lowered his eyes.

When he turned toward the door, I stood too. “Erin.”

He stopped and looked back.

I wasn’t sure why I said his name. Maybe I just wanted to see him look at me again.

“Be careful,” I said finally.

He nodded once, his voice soft. “You too.”