Devon stood in the hall for a moment after hanging up the phone, his breath still uneven. The clock on the wall ticked softly, each second a reminder that the twenty-four-hour fuse had already been lit. He turned sharply, heading down the corridor toward the far end of the mansion, his steps silent on the thick carpet. At the very end was a door that looked like part of the wall—same paneling, same polished oak grain. Most people who entered the house never even noticed it. The mechanism was hidden in the woodwork, and Devon pressed a specific knot in the panel. There was a faint click, and the disguised door swung inward. The room beyond was dim, the only light filtering from a small skylight high above. Dust motes drifted in the beam, swirling lazily as though the air itself didn’t know the urgency building inside him. The space smelled faintly of oil and metal—a place sealed away from the rest of the house, untouched for years except in moments like this. Against the back wall s
The night had been endless. Devon hadn’t closed his eyes once. Every time he tried to think of a plan, Damian’s voice echoed in his head, twisting his thoughts into knots. The clock crept toward dawn, each minute dragging like a chain. At 4:37 a.m., Devon’s self-control snapped. He grabbed the phone from the coffee table and dialed Damian’s number with trembling fingers. The call connected almost instantly. “What is it, Devon?” Damian’s voice was languid, like a man roused from deep, untroubled sleep. “Couldn’t rest without hearing from me?” Devon’s jaw clenched. “I’m calling to tell you—” “To tell me you’ve decided to accept my terms?” Damian cut in, a smirk audible in his tone. “No,” Devon bit out. “I’m calling to say I’m not going to be toyed with. I’ll—” The sharp crack of a gunshot exploded through the line. Devon froze, the sound ringing in his ears, his stomach plummeting. A second later, Annabelle’s scream tore through the speaker—high, raw, and agonizing. “WHAT DID Y
A police cruiser rounded the curve, its headlights illuminating Devon's slumped form in the driver's seat. The officers, responding to a call about a suspicious vehicle, pulled over to investigate. They approached the car cautiously, shining their flashlights inside. One officer's eyes widened as he took in Devon's disheveled appearance and the empty whiskey bottle on the passenger seat. "Sir, can you hear me?" he asked, shaking Devon's shoulder. Devon stirred, groggily opening his eyes. The officers exchanged a concerned glance, then carefully extracted Devon from the vehicle. They laid him on a stretcher and called for an ambulance. At the hospital, Devon was wheeled into the emergency room, where medical staff quickly assessed his condition. The doctor's voice was firm but gentle as he asked Devon questions, trying to gauge his level of intoxication and potential injuries. As Devon drifted in and out of consciousness, the police officer who had found him filled out the necessar
A police cruiser rounded the curve, its headlights illuminating Devon's slumped form in the driver's seat. The officers, responding to a call about a suspicious vehicle, pulled over to investigate. They approached the car cautiously, shining their flashlights inside. One officer's eyes widened as he took in Devon's disheveled appearance and the empty whiskey bottle on the passenger seat. "Sir, can you hear me?" he asked, shaking Devon's shoulder. Devon stirred, groggily opening his eyes. The officers exchanged a concerned glance, then carefully extracted Devon from the vehicle. They laid him on a stretcher and called for an ambulance. At the hospital, Devon was wheeled into the emergency room, where medical staff quickly assessed his condition. The doctor's voice was firm but gentle as he asked Devon questions, trying to gauge his level of intoxication and potential injuries. As Devon drifted in and out of consciousness, the police officer who had found him filled out the necessar
Annabelle's eyes widened in horror as the master walked into the caravan, his movements deliberate and calculated. "How are you, sister?" he asked, his voice low and menacing. And then, in a move that seemed almost theatrical, he reached up and slowly removed his mask. Annabelle's gaze locked onto the face revealed beneath, and her world seemed to come crashing down. She felt as though she'd been punched in the gut, her breath knocked out of her. "No," she whispered, her voice trembling with shock and denial. "It can't be." The figure standing before her was one she had thought she'd never see again. Her brother, whom she had mourned as dead all these years, was alive. And he was the one responsible for her kidnapping. Annabelle's mind reeled as she struggled to process this revelation. Why? Why would her own brother do this to her? And what did he want from her? Camille, sensing her mother's distress, stirred beside her. "Mom?" she whispered, her voice laced with fear.
The phone's ring pierced through the silence, jolting Devon awake. He groggily lifted his head, his eyes squinting from the bright screen of his laptop, which had been left open on the table. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, trying to shake off the fatigue accumulated from days of searching for Annabelle and Camille. As he reached for his phone, his heart skipped a beat when he saw the number on the screen. It was unknown, but something about it seemed familiar. Devon's instincts kicked in, and he quickly answered the call, his voice firm and alert. "Hello?" he said, his eyes narrowing slightly as he waited for a response. Devon's voice was laced with urgency as he spoke into the phone. "Who is this? What do you want?" The voice on the other end was distorted, robotic, and cold. "I have your family." Devon's grip on the phone tightened, his knuckles white with tension. "What have you done with them? Are they okay?" There was a pause, and then the voice spoke again, its t