Marcus’s words felt like a bucket of ice water poured over my head.
I stood in the dark hallway, the only light coming from the trembling beam of his flashlight. The air was thick with the smell of old wood and the copper tang of blood.
"Who, Marcus? Who is watching?" I whispered, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"Pierce's shadow," Marcus said, his voice cracking. He gestured for me to follow him deeper into the house, away from the windows. We sat in a small kitchen that looked like it hadn't seen a home-cooked meal in years.
Marcus slumped into a chair, his face looking hollow in the flickering light. He looked older, smaller than the man I remembered guarding Daniel’s office. "The night I 'died'... they came to my apartment. Not Pierce himself, but a man who didn't have a face, j
