Dangerously Yours

The Man In The Dark

The Man in the Dark

The lights went out.

For a second, nobody moved.

Then my mother screamed.

“Richard!”

“I’m here,” my uncle answered.

The house was suddenly filled with noise. Someone knocked over a chair. My mother called my name from the hallway. My father cursed under his breath.

I couldn't see anything. My heart was beating so hard that I could hear it.

“Ariana, stay where you are,” my father said.

I didn't answer.

My eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. The study window was still open, and cold air rushed through it, moving the curtains.

Then I heard footsteps.

Not inside the room.

Outside.

Someone was running.

My father moved toward the window.

“Don't,” I whispered.

He stopped.

“What?”

“I heard someone.”

Richard switched on his phone flashlight. The small beam moved across the room and stopped on the black phone lying near my feet.

Nobody spoke.

Then my father bent down and picked it up using a handkerchief.

That made my stomach twist.

“Why are you holding it like that?”

He ignored my question.

Richard walked closer.

“Give it to me.”

My father handed it over.

Richard examined the phone.

“No password.”

“Try turning it on,” my father said.

“It already is.”

The screen was still showing the message.

You're running out of time, Ariana.

I stared at it.

“That’s not normal.”

My father looked at me.

“What isn't?”

“The message. It was sent to my phone too.”

“Show me.”

I hesitated before handing him my phone.

He read the messages.

His jaw tightened.

“Where did you get this number?”

“I didn't get it anywhere. He texted me.”

“Who?”

I looked at Richard, then back at my father.

“Damien.”

Silence.

My father looked at my uncle. Richard looked back at him.

Something passed between them that I didn't understand.

“You know him,” I said.

My father looked at me.

“No.”

“You just reacted.”

“I reacted because you're telling me some stranger has your number.”

“He's not a stranger to you.”

“Ariana.”

“What did he tell you?”

Richard stepped forward.

“Your father said he doesn't know the man.”

I looked at him.

“Then why are you nervous?”

“Nervous?”

“Yes.”

He gave a short laugh.

“You're imagining things.”

Maybe.

But I was starting to doubt myself less and less.

I looked at the black phone in his hand.

“Why was that thrown into the room?”

“We don't know.”

“Why did someone break into the house?”

“We don't know.”

“Why is someone sending me messages?”

“We don't know.”

I laughed bitterly.

“Apparently nobody knows anything.”

My father walked toward me.

“Ariana, listen to me carefully. You are not leaving this house tomorrow.”

I stared at him.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I have plans.”

“Cancel them.”

“You can't just decide that.”

“I can when your safety is involved.”

My mother appeared at the doorway.

“What is happening?”

My father turned.

“Go upstairs.”

She frowned.

“Why?”

“Please.”

She looked at me. I could see the worry in her eyes.

“What happened?”

Before I could answer, Richard's phone rang.

He checked the screen.

“It's security.”

He stepped away to answer it.

My father watched him.

I watched my father.

Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

Richard came back a moment later.

“They found a car outside the gate.”

My father frowned.

“What car?”

“Black SUV.”

My heart dropped.

“Was anyone inside?”

“No.”

“Where is it?”

“Gone.”

My father looked at him sharply.

“How long ago?”

“About five minutes.”

My mother shook her head.

“I don't understand.”

Neither did I.

But there was one thing I understood perfectly.

The messages had started before the blackout.

Someone had planned this.

Someone had been watching me.

And somehow, Damien knew.

I looked at my father.

“I want to speak to him.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I said no.”

“You don't get to keep me locked inside and refuse to tell me anything.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Ariana, this isn't a game.”

“I know.”

“Then act like it.”

Anger rose in my chest.

“Maybe if you actually told me the truth, I wouldn't have to figure things out myself.”

My father's face went still.

Richard looked between us.

My mother whispered my name.

I didn't care.

For the first time in my life, I was tired of being treated like a child.

I turned and walked out of the study.

“Ariana!”

I kept walking.

I went upstairs and shut my bedroom door. I locked it and sat on the edge of my bed.

My hands were shaking.

I picked up my phone.

No new messages.

I stared at Damien's number.

I knew I shouldn't call him. Everything about him screamed danger, but somehow, he was the only person who had given me a warning that actually made sense.

I pressed the call.

The number was unavailable.

Again.

I tried.

Same thing.

“Damn it.”

I dropped the phone beside me.

Then it vibrated.

My heart jumped.

Unknown number.

I opened the message.

Don't call me.

I froze.

Another message appeared.

They're watching your phone.

I slowly looked around my room.

There was nobody there.

I typed.

Then why are you texting me?

The reply came.

Because you need to know what happens next.

I swallowed.

What happens next?

Three dots appeared, then disappeared. They appeared again.

Finally, the message came.

Your father is going to lie to you.

I stared at the screen.

About what?

No reply.

I waited.

Nothing.

I typed again.

Who are you?

This time, the reply came immediately.

You already know.

I almost threw my phone.

“Stop saying that.”

Another message appeared.

Look under your bed.

I stared at the screen.

Absolutely not.

I wasn't five years old.

Still, something inside me told me to check.

I slowly got off the bed and looked at the floor.

“I'm officially losing my mind.”

I crouched down and lifted the edge of the bedsheet.

Nothing.

I lowered myself to the floor and looked underneath.

At first, I saw nothing.

Then I noticed a small envelope.

My breathing stopped.

I reached under the bed and pulled it out.

There was no name on it. No address. Nothing.

I opened it.

A photograph fell into my hand.

I stared at it.

It was a picture of my father.

He was younger, maybe twenty years younger, and he was standing beside three men.

I recognized one of them immediately.

Uncle Richard.

My fingers tightened around the photograph.

The third man was someone I had never seen before.

Or at least, I thought I hadn't.

I turned the photograph over.

There was writing on the back.

1998. Lagos. The night everything changed.

I stared at the words.

What happened in 1998?

Why had someone hidden this under my bed?

And why did they want me to find it now?

My phone vibrated again.

Don't let Richard see the photograph.

I looked toward my bedroom door.

My heart began pounding.

Someone was outside.

I could hear footsteps.

They stopped in front of my door.

“Ariana?”

Richard.

I quickly shoved the photograph under my pillow.

“Yes?”

“Open the door.”

“Why?”

“I need to speak with you.”

“About what?”

There was a pause.

“Your father asked me to check on you.”

I looked at the locked door.

Something about his voice felt different.

“I'm tired.”

“We need to talk.”

“Tomorrow.”

Another pause.

Then he said quietly, “Open the door, Ariana.”

I didn't move.

His voice had changed.

It wasn't gentle anymore.

It was an order.

I stepped backwards.

“I said I'm tired.”

The handle moved.

I stared at it.

He was trying to open the door.

My heart nearly jumped out of my chest.

“Uncle Richard?”

No answer.

The handle moved again, then stopped.

I heard footsteps moving away.

I waited.

Ten seconds.

Twenty.

Thirty.

Then I heard my mother's voice from downstairs.

“Richard?”

“I was just checking on Ariana.”

“She’s sleeping.”

“I know.”

I stayed completely still.

Something was very wrong.

I waited until I heard them walk away.

Then, I pulled the photograph from under my pillow and studied the three men again.

My father.

Richard.

And the stranger.

I turned it over.

1998.

The night everything changed.

I picked up my phone and typed one message.

Who is the man in the photograph?

I sent it to Damien.

For several minutes, there was no response.

Then my phone buzzed.

You finally found it.

My heart sank.

How did he know?

I typed quickly.

Found what?

His reply came.

The truth is that your father buried.

I stared at the words.

Then another message appeared.

The man beside your father is not the person you should be afraid of.

I frowned.

What did that mean?

Before I could ask, another message appeared.

Richard knows where the real evidence is.

My stomach twisted.

I typed.

What evidence?

This time, there was no immediate reply.

Then:

Your mother.

I stopped breathing.

My mother?

What did she have to do with any of this?

I typed again.

Don't involve my mother.

His reply came almost instantly.

I didn't. They did.

I stared at the message.

Then I heard something outside my bedroom window.

A noise.

I turned.

The curtains moved.

I slowly walked toward them.

My bedroom was on the second floor. There shouldn't have been anyone there.

I pulled the curtain aside.

Nothing.

Just darkness.

Then I saw it.

A small red light.

It blinked once.

Twice.

A camera.

Someone was watching my room.

I stepped back.

My phone vibrated.

Don't look at the camera.

I stared at the message.

Then I looked again.

The red light disappeared.

Someone had turned it off.

I felt sick.

They knew I had seen it.

I rushed to the door and locked it again.

Then I pulled the curtains closed.

I needed to leave.

Not the house.

The room.

I needed somewhere my family couldn't hear me.

I looked around.

The balcony.

I opened the door carefully.

Cold air hit my face.

I stepped outside.

The house was quiet.

Too quiet.

I looked over the railing.

The garden below was dark.

Then something moved near the trees.

I froze.

A man stepped out from the shadows.

Tall.

Dressed in black.

My heart stopped.

I couldn't see his face clearly.

He looked up.

Straight at me.

Then the garden light came on.

My breath caught.

Damien.

He stood there like he had been waiting for me.

I opened my mouth.

He raised one finger to his lips.

Don't speak.

I stared at him.

How had he gotten into the compound?

He pointed toward the side gate.

Then he looked behind him.

Someone was coming.

I heard the balcony door open behind me.

I turned.

Richard stood inside my room.

I screamed.

He grabbed my wrist.

“Don't.”

I pulled away.

“What are you doing here?”

His face was completely different.

No smile.

No warmth.

Just coldness.

“You need to come with me.”