chapter 4
1056 Words
Chapter 4 – Monsters at the Door
The storm swallowed her scream before it could even break free. Isabella’s grip on the lamp tightened so hard her palms ached, her knuckles white against the trembling metal.
Two shadows.
One inside. One outside.
One from her past. One unknown, clawing at the doors as if the mansion walls couldn’t keep him out.
Her heart thudded so violently she thought it might rupture. The first man—the one already inside—lifted his hands slowly, palms open, his figure outlined in silver lightning. His lips moved without sound. Don’t scream.
But her lungs burned, her chest heavy. The storm outside seemed to roar louder just to drown her sanity. And then… her vision cleared, just enough for her to see the face hidden in shadow.
Her world shattered.
It couldn’t be.
Ethan.
Her Ethan.
The boy she once knew, the boy who had vanished, the boy who had been ripped out of her life like a page torn and burned.
She blinked, tears stinging her eyes before she could stop them. “No… no, you’re dead. You’re supposed to be—” Her voice cracked. “You’re gone.”
Ethan stepped closer, raindrops clinging to his hair, dripping from his jaw. His eyes—those same storm-grey eyes she had once memorized—locked on hers with desperation. “Isabella. It’s me. It’s Ethan. I swear, I’m alive.”
Alive.
The word tore her apart. Because if he was alive, then every day she had mourned him had been a lie. Every night she had whispered his name into the dark had been wasted.
Her lips trembled. “But… I saw— they told me you—”
“We don’t have time,” Ethan cut her off, his voice low and rough. “You have to come with me. Now.”
Before she could even process the madness, the balcony doors rattled hard. The glass shuddered in its frame, the shadow outside pressing violently against it. Another intruder. Larger. Darker. Armed with something that gleamed in the lightning.
Ethan’s jaw clenched. He grabbed her wrist, trying to pull her behind him. “We need to leave before—”
The bedroom door burst open.
And there he was.
Damian Blackwood.
Storm at his back, shadows at his feet, fury in his eyes.
He stepped inside like the devil himself had risen, dripping rain, black coat heavy against his broad shoulders, a gun already in his hand. His gaze swept the room once—sharp, lethal—before it landed on Ethan. And when it did, Isabella thought the world itself stopped breathing.
His face transformed.
No mask of calm, no cold smile. Just pure, unrestrained rage.
“What the hell,” Damian growled, his voice dark and lethal, “is he doing here?”
Ethan’s grip on Isabella tightened. His body moved instinctively, shielding her. “I’m here for her.”
The balcony shuddered violently again—glass nearly cracking. Isabella stumbled back, panic clawing at her chest, trapped between two men and a nightmare trying to break its way in.
Damian raised the gun higher, steady, merciless. “Get away from her. Now.”
Ethan’s body went rigid, but his stance didn’t falter. “She doesn’t belong to you.”
“She’s mine,” Damian thundered, his voice echoing like judgment itself. “And no one touches what’s mine.”
The claim wrapped around Isabella like chains, suffocating, possessive, undeniable. But before she could even react—
The balcony doors shattered.
Glass exploded inward with the howl of the storm. The second intruder burst through, masked, armed, rain pouring off his shoulders.
Isabella screamed, stumbling back. Ethan shoved her behind him, arm out like a shield. Damian didn’t even flinch.
His finger curled.
The gun fired.
The crack ripped through the storm.
The masked man collapsed, blood blooming across his chest, staining the floor dark. The thunder swallowed his last breath.
Silence fell.
Shattered glass glittered across the floor, raindrops spilling in, the storm bleeding into the room. Isabella’s chest heaved, nausea twisting inside her.
But Damian didn’t look at the body.
He looked at Ethan.
“You,” Damian spat, venom dripping from every syllable. “I should’ve killed you years ago.”
Years ago.
The words sliced into Isabella, sharp and merciless. Her gaze snapped between them, confusion and terror spiraling. “What… what are you talking about?”
Ethan’s jaw tightened, his storm-grey eyes never leaving Damian’s. “And I should’ve taken her before you got to her.”
Her stomach dropped. Taken her?
Damian’s lips curled into a cold, lethal smile. “You still think you can?”
The air between them was fire and lightning, two predators circling each other, and Isabella was the prey caught between.
She clutched the lamp harder, her voice breaking. “Stop it! Both of you, stop!”
Neither man moved. Neither looked at her. She could feel it in her bones—this wasn’t a fight that started tonight. This was old. Deep. A war that had lived in shadows long before she ever stepped into it.
Damian stepped forward, his gun unwavering. His voice was ice. “You have three seconds to disappear before I put a bullet in your skull.”
Ethan’s nostrils flared. His hand twitched like he wanted to reach for her again, but he didn’t move. He only turned his head, just enough to look at Isabella. His eyes softened—desperate, pleading, aching.
“Come with me,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Don’t let him own you. Don’t let him cage you like this.”
Her knees weakened. The floor beneath her seemed to vanish. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.
Because he wasn’t wrong.
And yet… the fire in Damian’s eyes, the fury, the possessive claim—terrified her as much as it wrapped around her like a dark shield.
Her lips trembled. She tried to speak but no words came.
Damian’s voice cut through the storm. “One.”
Ethan’s eyes burned into hers, begging. “Trust me, Isabella. Please.”
“Two.”
Her chest heaved, caught between past and present, between chains and promises, between two men who wanted her for reasons she didn’t understand.
“Three.”
Damian pulled the trigger.
---
- Writer
