Chapter 5
1097 Words
Lena couldn’t breathe.
Her fingers trembled as she stared at the locket, its metal warm from her skin, but the image inside made her blood run cold. Her mother… holding a baby. And standing next to her like some ageless ghost was Dominic Thorn. Not a younger version, not a faded memory of him but Dominic as he was now. Unchanged. Untouched by time.
It wasn’t possible.
Her pulse thundered in her ears as she backed away from the vanity. She could still hear Dominic’s footsteps fading down the hall, but the echo of his voice clung to the walls: She’s the one. She just doesn’t know it yet.
She clutched the locket tighter and stumbled toward the bed. Her knees gave out, and she sank onto the mattress, staring down at the open pendant in disbelief.
It had to be doctored.
Had to be some cruel joke.
But deep down, she knew it wasn’t.
She traced her thumb along the photo. Her mother looked younger, softer but the eyes were the same. Haunted. And that baby… it had to be her. Who else could it be? Her mother never spoke of other children.
But then Dominic.
Dominic, in that same signature black suit. The same silver cufflinks. The same piercing eyes that had undressed her soul hours ago.
It didn’t make sense.
The man from earlier, the one who claimed to know her mother had shoved the locket into her hand like it was a bomb, told her not to tell him. And now she understood why.
Dominic wasn’t just hiding secrets.
He was the secret.
She snapped the locket shut and tucked it under her pillow just as a soft knock rattled the door.
She stiffened.
“Lena?” came a voice. Not Dominic. A woman.
She crossed the room and cracked the door open.
A maid stood there young, nervous, her eyes flitting down the hall like she wasn’t supposed to be here.
“Miss Lena, I’m sorry,” she whispered quickly. “But you have to be careful. They’re watching you.”
Lena’s breath caught. “What?”
“Don’t trust anyone. Especially the Master.”
The girl thrust something into Lena’s hand a tiny silver key on a ribbon then scurried off down the hallway before Lena could ask a single question.
Lena shut the door and locked it behind her.
A key?
She held it up to the light. It was small. Old-fashioned. And engraved with a strange emblem that made her stomach twist: a rose split in two, the same symbol that had been etched into the black card the stranger had left earlier.
There was no coincidence here.
Her mother. The stranger. Dominic. The pendant. The key.
Everything was connected.
She didn’t sleep.
She lay awake, listening to the wind scrape against the balcony doors, the old mansion groaning like it knew too much. Her fingers clutched the pillow under which the locket hid, her eyes wide open.
Just before dawn, when the shadows outside began to melt into mist, she got up.
It was time to find out the truth.
---
She crept through the halls barefoot, the silver key tucked into her robe pocket. Every step felt like a betrayal. Every breath is like a risk.
She passed sleeping statues and ghostlike portraits, their eyes following her like they knew she was unwelcome here.
The key had to fit somewhere.
Her mind raced. She remembered the east wing Dominic had told her it was off-limits. She’d seen a locked door there, old and rusted. Maybe...
The mansion seemed to hold its breath as she reached the hallway. The door loomed at the end, thick and ominous, like it had been waiting for her.
She pulled out the key, heart hammering.
It fits.
The lock clicked.
And the door creaked open into darkness.
She stepped inside.
The smell hit her first dust, parchment, and something metallic. Like old blood.
Then the lights flickered on.
It wasn’t a room.
It was a library.
Floor to ceiling bookshelves, old tomes, and glass cases holding documents that looked ancient. Some were in languages she didn’t recognize. Others had her mother’s name on them.
She moved slowly, drawn to a table at the center. A single file lay open.
Her name was on the top.
Lena Naomi Vale.
She flipped it open. Inside were photos of her as a child. Of her walking to school. Of her mother shopping. Dates. Locations. Even audio transcripts.
They’d been watching her for years.
A symbol was stamped on the bottom of every page: the same split rose.
She backed away.
“This isn’t real,” she whispered. “What is this?”
Something clattered behind her.
She spun.
The stranger from before stepped out from the shadows, holding a book.
“You weren’t supposed to see this,” he said.
“But you gave me the key,” she said.
“I gave you the truth. What you do with it… that’s up to you.”
She pointed at the files. “Why are they watching me?”
He didn’t answer. He just opened the book in his hands and turned it around.
It was filled with sketches. Sigils. Bloodlines. And there, at the very center, a painted family tree.
Dominic Thorn. Her mother. And… her.
She gasped. “No. No, no, no.”
“He wasn’t just close to your mother,” the man said gently. “He loved her. Once.”
She stumbled back, nearly falling.
“That picture in the locket wasn't a lie.”
“What is he?” she breathed.
The man looked at her, eyes full of sorrow. “Not what. Who.”
Before she could speak again, the lights flickered. Then cut it out.
Darkness swallowed the room.
The stranger cursed. “He’s here.”
“Dominic?”
“No,” the man hissed. “The Collector.”
“What?”
He grabbed her hand. “Run.”
They bolted through the shelves as something heavy slammed against the far wall. A shape moved in the dark, tall, lean, and crackling with something inhuman.
The stranger pulled a blade from inside his coat and turned. “Keep running, Lena! Go back the way you came, lock the door!”
But Lena didn’t move.
Because the thing that stepped into the light wasn't a monster.
It was a man in a suit.
Eyes like obsidian.
Smile like death.
And when h
e looked at her, he didn’t see a girl.
He saw property.
“Found you,” he said.
- Writer
