Chapter 17 The Man in the Shadows

​BANG!

​The gunshot shattered the silence, echoing violently through Swan Mansion. Camille screamed.

​Alex immediately stepped in front of Kendall, shielding him. "Everyone, get down!"

​The security guards instantly drew their weapons, forming a defensive wall. "Protect Mr. Swan!"

​Downstairs, another loud crash erupted. Glass shattered, followed by the heavy, hurried sound of footsteps echoing through the dark hallway. Alex quickly switched on his phone's flashlight, cutting a narrow beam of light through the pitch black.

​"Who's there?" he demanded.

​No one answered. There was only a heavy, suffocating silence.

​Then, a mocking, distorted laugh echoed from somewhere upstairs—the exact same voice from the anonymous phone calls. "You've always been too late, Alex."

​Suddenly, the emergency lights flickered on, bathing the hallway in a dim, eerie red glow.

​"Sir!" One of the guards pointed toward the staircase. "Movement on the second floor!"

​Alex didn't hesitate. "I'm going."

​Kendall grabbed his arm tightly. "It could be a trap."

​Alex met his father's gaze, his eyes fiercely determined. "They've already entered our home. I'm not letting them leave."

​Without another word, he broke free and rushed upstairs.

​The second-floor hallway was eerily empty. Every door stood open, and curtains fluttered in the cold breeze blowing through a shattered window. Alex moved carefully, his heartbeat pounding like a drum in his ears.

​Then, he heard it—the sound of footsteps running.

​He sprinted toward the noise. At the end of the hallway, a figure dressed entirely in black was climbing through the broken window onto the balcony.

​"Stop!" Alex shouted.

​The masked figure glanced back. Though his face was completely hidden, one striking detail caught Alex's attention: a black phoenix tattoo was visibly etched onto the man's right hand.

​The masked man leaped from the balcony onto the garage roof. Without a second thought, Alex followed him out into the night.

​Rain had begun to fall, making the rooftop dangerously slippery. The masked man moved with incredible speed, but Alex pressed on, chasing him down.

​"Who are you?" Alex yelled into the wind.

​The man laughed. "You still don't recognize me?"

​Alex lunged forward, his fingertips brushing the fabric of the man's jacket, but the masked figure twisted away with effortless grace. Reaching the edge of the roof, the intruder stopped. Instead of jumping, he slowly turned around.

​"You really are Kendall Swan's son," the man remarked, tilting his head.

​Alex clenched his fists. "What do you want?"

​"The truth."

​"You've been hiding behind riddles!" Alex snapped. "If you know something, tell me!"

​The man let out a low, chilling chuckle. "No. You have to earn it."

​Suddenly, he flicked his wrist and threw something toward Alex. Instinctively, Alex caught it—a small flash drive. By the time he looked up, the masked man had vanished into the darkness.

​Back inside the mansion, the power finally returned, flooding the rooms with light. Security guards searched every corner, looking for any trace of the intruder.

​A few moments later, a guard approached Kendall. "Sir... we found this." He held out a spent bullet casing.

​The moment Kendall saw it, the color drained from his face again. "This caliber..."

​Alex stepped closer. "What is it?"

​Kendall drew a slow, shaky breath. "I've seen it before."

​"When?"

​"Twenty-six years ago... the night my best friend died."

​A heavy silence settled over the room. The same caliber. The same organization. The past had truly returned.

​Meanwhile, miles away, Javier couldn't sleep. She sat quietly on the couch, gently rubbing her stomach. In the midst of all the chaos, the baby had become her only source of peace.

​Suddenly, her phone vibrated: Unknown Number.

​She hesitated for a moment before pressing answer. "Hello?"

​This time, it wasn't the familiar female voice she expected. A man's voice came through the speaker. "Mrs. Swan."

​Javier's entire body tensed. "Who are you?"

​"I have only one question," the man said, followed by a brief, agonizing silence. "Do you still trust your husband?"

​Javier frowned, a knot forming in her stomach. "What does that have to do with you?"

​The man ignored her completely. "If Alex tells you he loves you... ask him why he never questioned Camille's disappearance six years ago."

​Javier's heart skipped a beat. "What are you talking about?"

​"You'll understand soon."

​The line went dead.

​A moment later, Nina walked into the living room. "Another call?"

​Javier nodded slowly, staring blankly at her screen. "They keep talking about six years ago."

​Nina sat down beside her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Then maybe... that's where all the answers are."

​Back at Swan Mansion, Alex inserted the flash drive into his laptop. Only one file appeared on the screen: an audio recording.

​He clicked play. A frightened man's voice filled the study, heavily distorted by poor quality and crackling static.

​"My name is Daniel Brooks... I worked on the Swan Project."

Alex exchanged a confused glance with Kendall; neither of them recognized the name. The recording continued.

​"If this message is ever found... it means I'm already dead."

Camille covered her mouth in shock. The man's voice was trembling with pure terror.

​"Richard Hale didn't betray Swan Group. He was trying to expose the real traitor..."

Alex leaned closer to the speakers, holding his breath. "Who?"

​Static suddenly flooded the audio, hissing loudly. Then, the final words struggled through:

​"The traitor is—"

The audio abruptly cut off into dead silence.

​Alex stared at the screen in utter disbelief. "No..."

​He replayed the file. Once. Twice. Again. But every single time, it cut off at the exact same fraction of a second. The final name had been deliberately erased.

​Just then, a second file opened automatically on the screen. It contained a recent photograph.

​The moment Alex saw it, his blood ran cold.

​It was a picture of Javier, standing on the balcony of Nina's apartment. The timestamp at the bottom read: 11:42 p.m.

​The photo had been taken only minutes ago.

​Beneath the image, a single text message appeared:

​"We're watching her. The next move is yours."

Alex's expression turned ice-cold. This was no longer just a mystery waiting to be solved. It had officially become a deadly race against time.