Chapter 5: The Little Ghost

Davina's POV:

His gaze flicked dismissively towards my father, a cruel twist forming on his thin lips. "So, the ghost finally makes an appearance." His voice was low, a smooth baritone that held an undercurrent of menace. "Little Lydia's ghost. I almost believed the old man."

My blood chilled. Lydia. My mother’s name, a name rarely spoken after the divorce and the subsequent silence from my father. "What are you talking about? Who are you? What are you doing in my father's room? And how do you know my mother?" I demanded, my voice trembling despite my attempt to sound defiant.

My father’s eyes snapped open, wide with a raw, naked terror that eclipsed any anger he had shown before. Fresh crimson bloomed on the bandage around his head, a stark contrast to the white linen. His hands, gnarled and bruised, clutched the blanket so tightly his knuckles were bone white.

"Ezra," he choked out, his voice a ragged whisper that seemed to tear through his injured throat. "Please... she doesn't know anything. Leave her out of this."

Ezra’s dark eyes flicked back to me, a chilling amusement dancing in their depths. "Doesn't she? Family secrets have a way of surfacing, Malcolm." a chucke escaped his lips sending shivers down my spine "Though, if I recall the story you spun, this little one and her older sister took a rather permanent vacation thirteen years ago. A tragic plane crash, wasn't it? So convenient."

Thirteen years ago. The year my parents’ marriage imploded, the year my father vanished from my life. A cold dread washed over me, a horrifying puzzle piece clicking into place. "Dead?" I whispered, the word barely audible. "That's not true... Lexi... she's alive..."

The door swung inward, and Nathan stood framed in the doorway, his brow furrowed with concern. "Davina? Is everything alright? I just wanted to make sure you were okay after..." He trailed off, his gaze sweeping over Ezra, my father’s terrified face, and the fresh bloodstains. His protective instincts kicked in instantly. He stepped forward, placing himself between Ezra and me. "Who are you? And what are you doing in here?"

Before Ezra could utter a reply, two figures materialized behind him, hulking silhouettes that seemed to absorb the dim light. They moved with a brutal efficiency that spoke of practiced violence. One of them, a man with a shaved head and a neck thicker than my thigh, moved with lightning speed, his fist connecting with Nathan’s jaw with a sickening crack. Nathan’s eyes rolled back, and he crumpled to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut.

A strangled cry tore from my throat. "Oh my god, Nathan!" I try to kneel next to my brother that is bleeding.

Ezra’s hand shot out, his fingers like icy talons clamping around my wrist, yanking me towards him with surprising force. From the inside of his tailored jacket, he produced a knife, the polished steel glinting ominously under the fluorescent lights. He pressed the cold, sharp edge against my throat, just below my ear. My breath hitched, and a terrified whimper escaped my lips.

"One sound, little ghost, and you'll finally join your dearly departed," Ezra hissed, his voice a low, venomous rasp against my skin. "Your pathetic excuse for a father here owes me a mountain of money. And now," his gaze flicked down to Malcolm, who was now sobbing silently, tears tracking through the blood on his face, "you're going to help him settle that debt. You will obey my every command. Is that perfectly clear?"

My survival instict kicked in and tried to elbow him in the stomach, but his senses were clearly highten, resulting in his restraining me more crashing my back on his chest. "Easy." he said with a rapsy voice. I try to turn my head to look at him, aware that his blade was scratching my throat, and the familiar smell of blood hitting my nostrils. "And if I refuse?" I say with all the strength left in me.

He leaves amused laugh out and signals his men. They grab Nathan from the floor and their fists land in his stomach, sending him to the floor again, his pain stronger than before. I try to scream but his hand muffles me. 

Tears streamed down my face, hot and uncontrolled. I feel weak and defeated. "Now will you obey me little ghost?" he whispers to my ear, making my whole body shiver from fear. My throat felt constricted, my voice trapped. All I could manage was a jerky, terrified nod.

"Excellent." Ezra’s grip on my wrist tightened as he spun me around to face him. His eyes never leaving mine. "Because if you even think about crossing me, your brave little brother will be the first to pay the price. Then your precious mother. Then anyone else this gambling addict ever cared about." He lowered the knife fractionally, but the threat remained a palpable weight against my skin. "He tried to bury you, tried to erase you. But now, you're going to make up for thirteen lost years."

My mind was a whirlwind of terror and disbelief. Debt? My father, a gambler? My supposed death? 

Suddenly, Ezra’s other arm snaked around my waist, lifting me off my feet with effortless strength. I gasped, kicking out blindly, my flimsy protests muffled against his expensive jacket. "Let me go! What are you doing? You can't just..."

He chuckled, a cold, humorless sound that sent shivers down my spine. "Oh, but I can. Consider it... collateral." He shifted his grip, tossing me over his shoulder like a rag doll. My head slammed against his back, a sharp jolt of pain shooting through my skull. The world inverted, the sterile white ceiling replaced by the blurry image of my father’s weeping face and Nathan’s still form on the floor. My cries of outrage and fear were lost as Ezra turned and strode out of the hospital room, carrying me away into a terrifying and unknown future.