4. Shadows On The Horizon

Chapter 4: Shadows On The Horizon

ETHAN’S POV

I pushed through the glass doors of the Chicago FBI Field Office, the morning air still clinging to my jacket as I stepped into the bustling lobby. My polished shoes clicked against the tiled floor, and I adjusted my tie, trying to shake off the restless night I’d had. 

 For the past year, I’d thrown myself into work, into proving myself as a special agent, a title I earned after Lucian Moretti’s arrest. The promotion had changed things—colleagues who once whispered slurs now nodded in respect, their assumptions about my engagement to Sarah smoothing over the rumours of my sexuality. 

But the weight of that lie, the weight of Sarah, pressed harder every day. My foster parents wouldn’t let up, hounding me about wedding plans, pushing me toward a woman I couldn’t stand. She wasn’t my type, not even close, even if I weren’t gay. Her sharp words, her cold touch, her consistent texts and calls—they repelled me, and the more I tried to make it work, the more I felt like I was drowning. 

I crossed the lobby, aiming for the elevators, but something felt off. Eyes lingered on me longer than usual. Agents in suits whispered in tight clusters, their glances darting my way before they turned back to their hushed conversations. I frowned, running a hand through my hair, wondering if I looked strange. My suit was pressed, my badge clipped to my belt—nothing seemed out of place. But the air buzzed with tension, and my stomach twisted, a familiar unease settling in.

I reached my department on the fifth floor, the bullpen a hive of activity, but my team stood gathered near the coffee station, their voices low, urgent. I caught my name in the mix—“…he’s after Ethan”—and my blood ran cold. I froze, my briefcase heavy in my hand, my heart pounding. 

Who was after me? 

I stepped closer, clearing my throat. “Who’s coming after me? What’s going on?”

They turned, faces paling, eyes wide with something between pity and fear. My colleague, Agent Daniels, a wiry guy with a perpetual scowl, opened his mouth to speak, but then shut it, looking away. The others shifted, their conversation dying, their attempts to change the subject clumsy. “Just… uh… case updates,” Agent Harper muttered, her voice strained, but I wasn’t buying it. 

Something was wrong—badly wrong.

I turned to Supervisory Special Agent Reynolds, the head of our department, a grizzled man with salt-and-pepper hair and a permanent frown. He stood by his office door, watching me, his expression unreadable. “Agent Caldwell,” he said, his voice gruff, gesturing toward his office. “We need to talk.”

I followed him, my pulse racing, my palms slick with sweat. Inside his office, the walls lined with commendations and case files, he gestured to a chair. “Sit.”

“I’ll rather stand, Sir,” I replied, my voice sharper than I intended, my legs locked in place. I needed to stay on my feet, to feel some control, because the air felt thick with dread.

Reynolds sighed, a heavy sound, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world pressed on him. He leaned against his desk, folding his arms, his eyes meeting mine with a gravity that made my stomach drop. “The Reaper is out of prison,” he said, each word a hammer strike. “Lucian Moretti. His one-year sentence ended two days ago. And from what we’re hearing, he’s coming for you.”

My world tilted, my breath catching in my throat. Lucian was out. I didn’t know the outcome of his trial, didn’t know he’d only gotten a year—I thought he’d be locked away longer, that I’d have more time to prepare mentally for our reunion. For the past year, I’d tried to move on, I’d tried to run from the reality that I’d not only committed a crime by having a criminal fuck me but also falling in love with him, I’d tried to bury the guilt of betraying him, the man I’d fallen for over those two years undercover. 

I loved him—God help me, I still did—and the memory of his touch, his voice, his body against mine in that back room at The Black Fang haunted me. But I sold him out, sent the intel that got him arrested, because I had no choice. If I didn’t, I’d have gone down with him, branded a traitor, thrown in prison for siding with a criminal. I did it to prove myself, to secure my place in the FBI, but it felt hollow now, the cost too high.

“What does he want?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, my mind racing with the worst possibilities. I’d seen what Lucian did to traitors—carved their chests open, ripped out their hearts, left them for the rats. I betrayed him, and I knew I was on his list. He’d come for me, no question.

Reynolds rubbed his jaw, his expression grim. “Revenge, most likely. You’re the one who put him away, Caldwell. He won’t forget that.”

My knees weakened, but I forced myself to stay upright, my hands clenched into fists. “Can you put me and my family in witness protection? Or assign us a detail? Anything?” I hated the desperation in my voice, but I needed a lifeline for me and my family.

He shook his head, his eyes hard. “We can’t spare the resources at the moment, Agent Caldwell. You’ll have to look out for yourself and your family. Be vigilant. If he’s coming, you’ll need to be ready.”

 

The rest of the day passed in a blur, my focus shattered, every shadow a threat. I spent the rest of the day pondering on whether or not to be afraid of Lucian’s release. 

My phone buzzed startling me from my deep thoughts, with trembling hands I picked it, my heart pounding fast in fear. I feared that the text was from Lucian  but to my relief it was Sarah texting to remind me of dinner with her family tomorrow. 

I left the office late, the sun dipping below the horizon, casting Chicago in a gray haze. I drove home on autopilot, my apartment in a quiet suburb a small refuge I’d clung to this past year. But as I pulled into my driveway, the hairs on my neck stood up, a primal instinct screaming that I wasn’t alone.

I stepped out of my car, my hand on my Glock, my eyes scanning the darkness. The street was silent, the only sound was the rustle of leaves in the evening breeze. I took a step toward the door, my keys jingling in my hand, when a shadow moved behind me, fast and silent. Before I could turn, a cloth pressed over my mouth, the sharp scent of chloroform flooding my senses. I thrashed, my gun slipping from my grip, my vision blurring as strong arms pinned me, dragging me back. 

“Reaper says hi,” a rough voice growled in my ear, and then the world went black.