A trap in the Shadow

The night before the storm always carried a strange silence inside the mansion. The guards patrolled, their boots echoing on the marble floors, but the air itself felt heavier—as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible waited for us beyond the gates. Alexander’s vow echoed inside me, a promise that burned like fire: “Tomorrow we will finish this.”

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust in the steel in his voice, the certainty in his eyes. But deep down, fear gnawed at me. Because the shadows weren’t only outside—they had begun to creep inside these walls too.

From my window, I watched the courtyard below. Unfamiliar men moved among the guards—faces I didn’t recognize. They carried themselves with the same lethal poise as Alexander’s men, but there was something colder in their eyes. Recruits, he’d said earlier. Reinforcements. Yet I felt no comfort in their presence. If anything, their silence unsettled me more.

When I turned away, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. My reflection startled me. My hair hung loose around my shoulders, my face pale, eyes shadowed with sleepless nights. I barely recognized the woman staring back. I wasn’t just Isabella anymore. I was Isabella caught in Alexander’s war.

The door creaked open behind me, and I spun sharply, my heart lurching into my throat. It was only Elena, one of the housemaids, clutching a folded blanket. “Señora,” she whispered, lowering her gaze. “I thought you might be cold.”

I forced a smile. “Thank you, Elena.”

She set the blanket down but lingered. Her eyes flicked nervously toward the window, then back at me. “There is talk, Señora. Among the men. They say tonight the walls have ears.”

My pulse quickened. “What do you mean?”

But she only shook her head quickly, as if she’d already said too much. “Forgive me. Be careful.” She slipped away before I could press her further.

The warning sat heavy in my chest. Tonight, the walls have ears. It was a phrase that could mean many things, but one truth cut clear—I couldn’t trust that I was safe, even here.

---

When Alexander finally came to me that evening, he carried the scent of smoke and gunpowder with him, though I doubted he’d been near any flames. His presence filled the room, sharp and overwhelming, and yet my body betrayed me—I felt relief at seeing him. Relief, and fear tangled together. 

“You’ve been pacing,” he said, his voice low, eyes raking over me as if he could read the panic written in my skin.

“I can’t sleep,” I admitted.

“You shouldn’t,” he said simply. “Not tonight.”

He closed the distance between us, his hand brushing my arm. A touch both grounding and consuming. “Stay close to me, Isabella. Whatever happens, you do not leave my side.”

The intensity in his tone left no room for argument, though part of me bristled at being treated like something fragile. Still, I nodded. “I understand.”

But what I didn’t understand was the storm brewing inside him. His eyes were darker tonight, colder, as if some switch had flipped. The man who kissed me with fire was now made of iron, untouchable. I wondered which side of him would survive the night—the ruthless king of shadows or the man who held me when no one else dared.

---

Later, when the house quieted again, I wandered toward the east wing, restless. The corridors stretched long and dim, the lamps casting thin pools of golden light. That was when I heard them—voices. Low, urgent, and in a language I barely understood. I crept closer, my bare feet silent on the polished floor.

“…move at dawn,” one voice hissed. “He won’t see it coming.”

“Unless she knows,” another muttered. “She’s dangerous too. Not with weapons, but with eyes. She sees more than he thinks.”

My stomach clenched. Were they talking about me?

I pressed closer, heart racing. The voices belonged to two of the new recruits. Their words slipped into silence when footsteps approached. They moved quickly, their shapes disappearing down the hall. I darted back into the shadows, breath caught in my throat.  

When I finally returned to my room, my mind spun. Someone inside was feeding Alexander’s enemies information. And they were watching me.  

---

The trap was set hours later, though I didn’t realize it until it was too late.  

Alexander had gathered a small team, men he trusted most. He told me we were leaving the mansion—heading to an abandoned warehouse where the final pieces of this war would fall into place. I wanted to scream, to beg him not to take me, but I saw the unyielding command in his eyes. My place was at his side, even if it led us into hell.  

The convoy left in silence, black cars rolling through the night like shadows on wheels. I sat beside Alexander, my hands clenched in my lap. Outside, the streets were eerily empty. Too empty.  

“Something’s wrong,” I whispered, my breath fogging the window.  

Alexander’s hand tightened over mine, the only reassurance he offered. “Stay calm.”  

But calm was impossible. My heart hammered as the lead car slowed at an intersection where the traffic lights blinked uselessly on red. The moment stretched too long. Then—  

The first explosion ripped through the night.  

The lead car erupted in fire, flames spiraling into the sky. Screams filled the air as the convoy jolted to a halt. Gunfire cracked in the distance, sharp and relentless.  

“Down!” Alexander roared, pulling me against him as bullets shattered the windshield. Glass rained over us, glittering like deadly stars. My ears rang, my body trembling as chaos unfolded outside.  

Men poured from the shadows, masks covering their faces, weapons raised. This wasn’t a random attack. This was orchestrated. Precise.  

Through the smoke and fire, I saw it—a symbol painted on one of the vans that blocked our path. A black serpent, coiled and striking. I’d seen it once before, carved into the black card Alexander had burned.  

The enemy wasn’t just coming for him. They were coming for me.  

“Alexander,” I choked, my voice breaking. “They know. They know about me.”  

His eyes, cold and sharp as blades, locked on mine. “Then let them come,” he growled. “They’ll learn the cost of touching what’s mine.”  

But even as he spoke, the doors were ripped open, and I was yanked into the night.  

The world spun—a blur of smoke, fire, and hands that gripped me too tightly. My scream cut the air as Alexander’s voice thundered behind me, raw with rage.  

“ISABELLA!”  

And in that instant, I knew: this was no longer just his war. It was mine too.  

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