Scene 3

Cassian stormed into the living room first, his energy crackling like lightning—wild, loud, impossible to contain. Adrian followed right behind, quieter but sharper, his eyes scanning the room with swift precision.

Cassian’s gaze went straight to Lucian.

Adrian’s went straight to the notes.

And both of their faces changed instantly.

Cassian picked up the second note—the one that said YOU’RE NEXT—and his expression darkened in a way I didn’t often see. His smile faded, the humor evaporating from his eyes. He looked… older. Harder.

“Who left this?” he demanded.

Lucian shook his head. “We don’t know.”

Adrian crouched beside the scrapbook, examining the first note without touching it. His calmness wasn’t comforting—it was clinical, the kind of calm that came before a calculated takedown.

“He wasn’t supposed to die,” Adrian read aloud, his voice low. “So whoever wrote this thinks the death was deliberate… or premature.”

Arian’s little fingers clenched around my shirt.

Cassian paced, hands on his hips. “We need to sweep the whole property. Outside too. Perimeter cameras, movement sensors—”

Lucian cut him off. “Already checked. No visual. No triggers.”

Cassian froze. “So they were careful.”

Adrian straightened slowly. “Or they know this house better than we do.”

That made the room fall silent.

Lucian’s jaw clenched. “Not better. Just enough.”

Cassian shot him a sharp look. “Lucian—if this is who I think it is—”

Lucian shook his head once. A warning.

Not here.

Not in front of me.

And definitely not in front of Arian.

But Cassian didn’t take warnings well.

“You should’ve told her,” Cassian snapped. “You should’ve told us. This—this is exactly the kind of shit that—”

Adrian stepped in between them quietly, his presence surprisingly strong for someone so reserved.

“Not now,” Adrian said, voice soft but firm. “We have a child in the room.”

The tension snapped like a stretched wire.

Lucian looked at Arian—then at me—and softened instantly. “Cassian. Adrian. Take her upstairs. Check the closet. Check everything.”

Cassian nodded, moving fast and gentle for once. He lifted Arian effortlessly, resting her against his chest.

“Hey, little genius,” he whispered, voice unexpectedly tender. “We’re gonna make sure your room is super safe, okay?”

Arian nodded weakly, but the trust she had in him was clear.

Adrian went ahead up the stairs, already scanning shadows, surfaces, corners.

When they disappeared into the hallway, I turned to Lucian.

“Tell me the truth,” I whispered. “Who is this man?”

Lucian looked at the staircase, making sure they were out of earshot, then he spoke in a voice meant only for me.

“Your father wasn’t just an artist or a teacher. He was involved in something… bigger. Something he walked away from. And someone didn’t want him to.”

My pulse thundered. “So he was… threatened?”

“More than threatened.” Lucian’s expression hardened. “He was owned.”

My breath hitched. “By who?”

It took Lucian a long moment to answer.

When he finally did, the name hit me like cold water down my spine.

“Darius Mercer.”

The name meant nothing to me.

But the fear flickering in Lucian’s eyes told me everything I needed to know.

I whispered, “Who is he?”

Lucian’s voice dropped into something dark. Something that felt like a secret wrapped in danger.

“He’s the man your father trusted when he shouldn’t have.

The man who disappeared ten years ago.

The man whose handwriting is on those notes.”

My skin prickled.

“And the man Arian saw at the funeral?”

Lucian nodded once.

“Yes.”

I swallowed hard. “Then why leave a note now?”

Lucian exhaled slowly, like he already knew the answer but hated it.

“Because your father’s death changed something.”

His eyes lifted to mine, steady and unflinching.

“And because whatever Darius wanted from him…”

He took my hand.

“…he’s coming for you next.”

Before I could respond, there was a loud thud upstairs—

Cassian’s voice shouting,

“LUCIAN! GET UP HERE—NOW!”

The world snapped into motion.

Lucian grabbed my wrist.

And we ran.

Lucian reached the top of the stairs before I did—fast, sharp, silent. Cassian stood in the hallway, tense, jaw clenched, one hand braced against the wall. Adrian was farther down, kneeling beside Arian’s bedroom door with a look on his face I had never seen before.

Not fear.

Not anger.

Something colder.

Lucian grabbed Cassian’s shoulder. “What happened?”

Cassian didn’t answer.

He pointed.

And that’s when I saw it.

A mark.

Right on the white wood of Arian’s bedroom door, at the height of a grown man’s shoulder. A small smear, like a fingertip dragged deliberately across the surface.

Dark.

Wet.

Fresh.

Blood.

My stomach flipped sickly, but I forced myself closer.

Adrian reached up and dipped a gloved fingertip against it. “It’s real,” he murmured. “Someone marked the door.”

“Why?” I whispered.

Cassian exhaled through his nose, shaking with barely contained rage. “Because he wanted us to know he was here. Not hiding. Not sneaking. Watching.”

Lucian pushed past them and entered Arian’s room. “Check everything.”

Cassian followed. Adrian stayed in the hall, scanning the ceiling, the vents, the corners—his mind working in complete silence.

I hovered in the doorway until I couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Arian said she heard the closet,” I said quietly.

Cassian yanked the closet door open so violently the hinges shook. He stepped inside, sweeping a hand along the shelf, the walls, the space behind the hanging dresses.

Nothing.

But then—

“There,” Adrian said softly from behind me. “Look at the floor.”

We all looked.

A single footprint.

Faint.

Damp.

Facing outward, not inward.

My breath stopped.

Lucian’s voice cut like steel. “He stood in her closet… watching her.”

The room spun. I grabbed the doorframe to keep myself steady.

Cassian swore loudly. Adrian’s jaw tightened.

Lucian crouched over the footprint, muscles tense, eyes blazing.

“This isn’t random,” he said. “He’s taunting.”

“Why?” Cassian demanded.

Lucian didn’t look up. “Because he wants attention. He wants fear.”

His voice darkened.

“And he wants control.”

Adrian finally spoke, his voice eerily calm. “He didn’t break in. There’s no forced entry. No alarm trigger. No tampered locks.”

“So how the hell did he get in?” Cassian snapped.

Adrian looked at me.

Then at Lucian.

Then at the mark on the door.

And his answer chilled me straight to the bone.

“He has a key.”

My throat closed up. “A key to our house? How would he—”

Lucian stood slowly, turning toward me with an expression that warned me before he said a word.

“Because he’s had access to your family for longer than you know.”

I shook my head. “Lucian, that doesn’t make sense—my father would never—”

“He didn’t give it to him,” Lucian said gently, painfully.

“But someone in your father’s circle did. Someone he trusted.”

His voice lowered.

“Someone who is still alive.”

A cold wave rolled through me.

“You’re saying someone close to us… helped him?”

Adrian nodded once. “Yes. Someone who knew the routines. The layout. The girls’ bedrooms.”

Cassian rubbed his hands through his hair. “This is exactly why I told you we should’ve told her earlier.”

Lucian ignored him.

He turned to me, stepping closer, his voice low and steady—too steady.

“This wasn’t a warning,” he said. “This was a message.”

My lips trembled. “What message?”

Lucian held my gaze, dark eyes full of a truth I didn’t want.

“He wants you to know,” Lucian said softly, “that your father’s death wasn’t the end.”

He reached for my hand.

“It was the beginning.”

Before I could breathe, before I could react—

Arian screamed from Cassian’s arms downstairs.

We froze.

Then—

She yelled:

“HE’S OUTSIDE THE WINDOW!”

My heart nearly stopped.

Lucian didn’t hesitate. He grabbed my hand, and we bolted down the stairs together, Cassian carrying Arian, Adrian close behind, every muscle coiled like a spring.

The living room was empty, but the front window—large, floor-to-ceiling glass—revealed a shadow just beyond the frame.

Movement.

Slow. Deliberate. Watching.

The hairs on my arms stood on end.

Cassian’s voice, low and lethal, broke the silence. “I see him. He’s outside. Backyard. Near the oak.”

I swallowed hard, trying to calm the terror that roared in my chest. “Who is it? Who is he?”

Lucian’s jaw tightened. He stepped forward, eyes narrowing. “Darius Mercer.”

The name hit me like a punch to the ribs. Every instinct in me screamed run. But I couldn’t. Not with Arian in Cassian’s arms, and not with Lucian blocking the only way out.

Adrian moved beside me, glancing toward the back door. “He’s alone. For now. But he knows the house. He knows your routines. Every blind spot.”

My pulse thundered. “Why is he doing this now? Why today?”

Lucian exhaled sharply. “Because your father’s death triggered something he’s been waiting for. Something he couldn’t act on before.”

The shadow shifted again. My stomach twisted. A tall figure, dressed dark, blending into the night, with movements that were too precise to be casual.

“Is he armed?” Cassian muttered.

Lucian shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. Doesn’t matter. He’s here to scare. To control. To prove a point.”

Adrian’s voice was quiet, measured, and horrifyingly calm. “If we engage him now, we risk putting the girls in danger. We need strategy.”

I felt frozen. My legs felt like lead, my hands shaking. “What about the girls? What about me?”

Lucian stepped closer, placing his hand on my shoulder. “You’re safe. I promise. But you need to stay behind me. Trust me.”

And in that moment, I did.

We moved toward the back door cautiously. Lucian’s hand on the doorknob, Cassian and Adrian flanking, eyes scanning the darkness outside.

The backyard was still—too still—but the shadow was gone.

A breeze whispered through the trees, carrying a faint metallic scent. I recognized it immediately: the same cologne my father used to wear.

My breath caught.

Lucian’s eyes snapped to me. “You smelled that too?”

I nodded.

Then we saw it.

On the ground.

A small, black object lying in the grass near the oak tree.

Lucian crouched and picked it up.

A pocket watch.

Mine.

From my father’s collection.

But this one… this one wasn’t the same.

The hands were moving. Ticking. Counting.

And inscribed on the back, in the same sharp handwriting as the notes:

“TIME IS RUNNING OUT.”

The blood drained from my face.

Cassian cursed under his breath. Adrian’s jaw was tight, teeth clenched.

Lucian held the watch in his hand, his expression unreadable. “He’s not just sending a message,” he said quietly. “He’s starting a game.”

I shivered, every nerve screaming.

“A game?” I whispered.

Lucian’s voice was hard, cold, unyielding. “Yes. And we’re already behind.”

The night pressed in around us. The oak tree loomed like a dark sentinel. The air smelled of wet grass and something… metallic. The shadow was gone. But the feeling remained.

That suffocating certainty that someone was out there, watching. Waiting. Planning.

And that whatever came next… we wouldn’t be ready.

We didn’t speak as Lucian carried the pocket watch back inside. Its ticking was soft but relentless, like a countdown echoing straight into my chest. Every second felt heavier than the last.

Arian clutched her rabbit tightly, hiding behind Cassian, who set her down gently on the couch. She peeked over his arm, wide-eyed, trembling.

“Daddy,” she whispered, her voice small, almost breaking.

Lucian knelt in front of her. “You’re okay, princess. He can’t touch you here. Not now. Not ever.”

Cassian muttered under his breath, pacing in the living room. “We’re not safe. Not even inside the house. He knew we’d check the backyard. That watch? He left it for you to find. A warning.”

Adrian was scanning the windows. Every lock, every latch, every glass pane. “He’s patient. He wants fear to grow. He wants control.”

I sank into the couch, my hands shaking as I touched Arian’s hair. “Why… why is he doing this? What does he want from us?”

Lucian’s eyes darkened. “Your father made a mistake. Trusted the wrong person. And Darius Mercer—he doesn’t forgive. He doesn’t forget. And he doesn’t care about anyone who stands in his way.”

My stomach twisted. “So… he’s coming for me?”

Lucian’s gaze hardened. “Yes. But not tonight. He’s testing us. Watching. Learning. Making sure we know he can.”

I felt Cassian’s sharp exhale behind me. “Testing? This isn’t some game, Lucian! He’s psycho! He’s dangerous! He could’ve hurt the girls!”

Lucian placed a hand on Cassian’s shoulder, holding him back with sheer strength. “That’s exactly why we need a plan. Anger won’t help here. Precision will.”

Adrian stepped forward, calm as always, voice chillingly steady. “We need to assume the next step. He’s not just going to leave the watch. He’ll escalate.”

The ticking of the watch on the coffee table sounded louder now, echoing through my skull. Every beat a drum, every tick a heartbeat, counting down.

I felt my throat tighten. “So… what do we do?”

Lucian looked at me, then at the girls, then at the others. His jaw set. “We secure the house. All exits, all windows, all possible entries. We set up watches. And we prepare for the moment he tries to make contact.”

Cassian groaned. “You mean wait for him to try something? That’s insane!”

“It’s reality,” Lucian said flatly. “Right now, the best way to protect everyone is containment. And if he tries to cross the line…” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “…he won’t leave alive.”

I swallowed hard. My hands gripped Arian’s tiny shoulders. I couldn’t stop the tremor in my body. “Lucian… I’m scared.”

He leaned down, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “I know, Sophie. Me too. But we’re together. That’s what matters. Every step of the way.”

A sharp knock at the front door made all of us freeze.

Lucian’s hand slid to his belt. “Do not open it.”

The knock came again. Louder this time. Deliberate. Measured.

Adrian’s voice was quiet but tense. “He wants a reaction. Don’t give him one.”

Cassian muttered, “Or maybe he’s trying to bluff. Maybe he wants to scare us into leaving.”

Lucian’s hand gripped mine. “Whatever he wants, he won’t get it. Not tonight. Not ever.”

Another knock, this one accompanied by a faint metallic scrape—like a blade sliding against the wood.

The hair on my arms stood on end.

The family I loved—Lucian, the girls, Cassian, Adrian—stood with me in that moment, hearts racing, every nerve screaming.

And outside that door… Darius Mercer was waiting.

Counting. Watching. Planning.

And I knew, with every fiber of my being, that nothing would ever be the same again.

The knock at the front door came again. Louder this time. A metallic scrape followed—a sound that made my stomach twist and my fingers tighten around Lucian’s hand.

Lucian didn’t move. He just stood, calm, rigid, every muscle coiled. Cassian and Adrian flanked him, eyes scanning every shadow, every corner. My breath hitched. Arian clutched her rabbit tightly, pressing herself against me.

“Do not open it,” Lucian said, voice low, dangerous.

The knock came again. This time, deliberate, rhythmic. Like a heartbeat. Taunting.

I swallowed, trying to steady my voice. “Lucian… what if he—”

“He won’t get what he wants,” Lucian interrupted, his eyes cold, unreadable. “Not tonight.”

Cassian muttered something under his breath, pacing the room. “I say we throw the door open and show him—”

Lucian’s hand on his shoulder stopped him instantly. The look in Lucian’s eyes silenced him. Cassian froze mid-step, realizing instinctively that this wasn’t the time for bravado.

Adrian crouched near the door, scanning the small gap beneath it, noting every detail. “He’s testing us,” he said quietly. “Watching how we react. He wants to see fear.”

The next knock wasn’t a knock at all. It was a tap. Soft. Sharp. Controlled. Right on the glass panel beside the door.

I felt my blood run cold. My pulse hammered in my ears.

Lucian’s gaze snapped toward the window. “Stay behind me,” he said, drawing me back into his side.

Cassian muttered, “This is insane…”

The tap came again, this time accompanied by a whisper so soft I wasn’t sure I heard it at first.

“Time is running…”

I froze. Arian whimpered. The metallic scent of something—blood, steel—wafted faintly through the air.

Lucian’s hand tightened around mine. “Do not move,” he ordered.

Another tap. This one louder. Closer. Then—nothing. Silence.

I held my breath, straining to hear beyond the walls of our home. And then… the voice.

Clear, smooth, dangerous.

“Sophie. I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

The words sent a chill down my spine. Every instinct screamed run, but I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Only stand frozen, clutching Lucian’s arm as he scanned the doorway with eyes that promised retribution.

Cassian growled. “He’s out there… he’s actually out there.”

Lucian didn’t answer. He just pressed a finger to his lips, signaling silence, then stepped closer to the door, his body coiled like a predator.

The whisper came again, carried on the wind through the slight crack of the window.

“You’re too late. The game has begun. And every second… is mine.”

The words weren’t just a threat—they were a promise. A declaration. And with them came the unmistakable feeling of eyes on us. Watching. Calculating.

I pressed myself into Lucian’s side. “What… what do we do?”

He didn’t answer immediately. He didn’t need to. His hand on the door, his stance, the dangerous calm in his eyes—it said everything.

Then, without warning, a sharp crash echoed from the backyard. Glass shattered. Metal screeched. Something heavy hit the ground.

Lucian shoved me behind him, pulling Cassian and Adrian into formation.

Arian screamed.

I felt Lucian’s voice in my ear, low, fierce: “Stay down. Stay quiet. And whatever happens… trust me.”

The moment stretched. Time slowed. My heart was a drum pounding in my chest. The air was electric, charged with fear and anticipation.

Then a shadow moved. Dark. Silent. Deliberate. Approaching the house.

Lucian’s hand gripped the hilt of his blade. Cassian tightened his fists. Adrian’s eyes never left the shadow.

And I realized—terrifyingly—that this wasn’t just a warning anymore.

This was the beginning of the hunt.

And we were the prey.