S2 THE MAN IN THE SHADOWS
1302 Words
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Aiden left Emberly’s apartment at dawn, after pacing in her living room for almost an hour, reciting every detail about the break-in until he ran out of words. He was exhausted; the kind of tired that lived under the skin and behind the eyes. Emberly watched from the window as he walked to his car, shoulders heavy under the weight of truths he couldn’t say aloud.
When he drove away, the silence in her apartment felt sharper than any sound.
Emberly leaned against the door after locking it, exhaling slowly. She didn’t fully trust Aiden, not anymore—not after the fractures of Season 1—but losing him felt even more dangerous. She needed someone in her corner… but maybe that was wishful thinking. Maybe she was on her own.
Her phone buzzed again.
Unknown Number:
“He didn’t tell you everything.”
She nearly dropped it.
“Who are you?” she typed quickly, breath uneven.
A pause.
A long one.
Then—
“Turn on Channel 8.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs. She walked to the TV hesitantly, feeling watched. She clicked it on.
A news anchor appeared mid-sentence:
“…and the suspect remains unidentified. Police sources confirm the break-in showed no forced entry and displayed advanced knowledge of the precinct’s surveillance blind spots…”
Emberly’s stomach twisted.
The screen shifted to grainy, low-light footage of a hooded figure walking through the precinct hallway—calm, confident, completely unafraid.
The hooded figure passed directly in front of the security camera.
Only for a split second.
But a split second was enough.
Emberly froze.
The world narrowed.
Because she recognized the walk.
The posture.
The tilt of the head.
It was Liam.
The man who had once saved her.
The man who had nearly died for her.
The man she no longer knew how to feel about.
Her knees almost gave out. She grabbed the couch for stability.
Her phone buzzed again.
“He’s not who you think he is.”
She slammed the TV off.
“No,” she whispered. “No… Liam wouldn’t—he wouldn’t do this.”
But the image burned into her mind. Liam, slipping through the precinct as easily as slipping into a memory.
Her phone rang before she could process.
A call. Same unknown number.
She didn’t want to answer.
She did anyway.
She lifted the phone to her ear.
“Who are you?” she whispered.
A low, steady voice replied:
“Someone who’s been watching your life fall apart. And someone who knows how to put it back together.”
Emberly’s blood ran cold. “Where are you?”
Silence.
Then:
“Behind you.”
Her breath stopped.
She spun around—
—and saw nothing.
Her hands shook violently. “This isn’t funny.”
“I agree,” the voice said, calm and unnervingly close. “I’ll reveal myself when you’re ready. But for now, I need you to understand one thing.”
“What?” she snapped.
The voice softened.
“Your past is waking up.”
A click.
The call ended.
Emberly dropped onto the couch, shaking. Her mind was spiraling—too many threads pulling her in too many directions. Liam in the footage. Aiden with half-truths. A strange man who knew far too much. And the memories—the projections—bleeding into her thoughts like ink spreading through water.
She closed her eyes.
A memory slammed into her.
Not hers.
A man’s hand sliding a folder into a burning barrel.
The smell of scorched paper.
A whisper:
“Erase the girl.”
Emberly gasped and shot upright, choking on air.
She grabbed her coat and keys. She couldn’t stay here. Not with her mind cracking open and strangers watching through invisible windows.
She needed answers.
Real answers.
And there was one person she hated enough—and feared enough—to face.
Dr. Calloway.
The woman who had run part of the memory study Emberly had been unknowingly involved in as a child. The woman who had lied to her. Manipulated her. Hidden her own research.
But Dr. Calloway was in prison.
Which meant Emberly had only one option:
Visit her.
---
The Prison
The automated gate clanked open as Emberly entered the steel-gray visiting area, a blast of cold recycled air hitting her face. The room was stark—rows of tables, flickering lights, and a wall of glass separating inmates from visitors.
Emberly sat at a booth, heart hammering.
The door on the other side opened.
Dr. Helena Calloway was escorted in.
She looked thinner, older, but her eyes still held the same sharp intelligence—the kind that cut deeper than knives.
She sat. Picked up the phone.
Smiled a smile that wasn’t a smile at all.
“Emberly,” she purred. “You look… troubled.”
“Cut the act,” Emberly snapped. “Who took my files?”
Calloway’s eyes glittered. “You assume I know.”
“You always know.”
A slow, satisfied smirk.
“True.”
Emberly leaned forward. “Tell me.”
Calloway examined her like a specimen. “First, tell me about your episodes.”
Emberly went cold. “What episodes?”
“Oh, darling.” Calloway’s voice dropped. “The ones where you’re remembering things that aren’t yours.”
Emberly’s breath stuttered.
Calloway leaned closer.
“It’s beginning, isn’t it?”
Emberly’s palm went sweaty against the phone. “What’s beginning?”
Calloway’s smile widened.
“The inheritance.”
A chill crawled up Emberly’s spine.
“My… inheritance?”
“Your father would be proud,” Calloway whispered, tapping the glass. “He died before seeing your abilities fully mature.”
Emberly froze. Gripped the phone.
“My father died in a car crash. You know that.”
Calloway laughed—a sharp, cutting sound.
“Oh, Emberly. You still believe the stories they fed you?”
Her ears rang.
Calloway leaned in so close her breath fogged the glass.
“Your father didn’t die in a crash.”
Emberly’s hand tightened painfully.
Calloway whispered:
“He was murdered.”
The world tilted.
Emberly couldn’t breathe.
“No,” she choked. “No, that’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” Calloway asked. “Then why were the files taken? Why now?”
Emberly’s throat locked.
Calloway’s smirk returned.
“And you already met him, didn’t you?”
Emberly blinked. “Who?”
A soft, sinister whisper:
“Silas Vale.”
Her heart nearly stopped.
Her grip on the phone loosened.
Calloway nodded slowly, pleased by Emberly’s reaction.
“Yes,” she said.
“The man who killed your father.”
---
Outside the Prison
As Emberly stumbled out into the cold light of morning, dizzy and shaking, a figure leaned against a black car parked by the curb. Hands in pockets. Calm. Watching her.
Silas Vale.
He pushed off the car and approached with the easy, confident steps of a man who feared nothing—not even being caught.
“Rough visit?” he asked softly.
Emberly stopped.
Her voice barely came out.
“You killed my father.”
Silas tilted his head.
A smile ghosted his lips—not denying, not confirming, only provoking.
“Emberly,” he murmured, stepping closer, “if I had killed your father…”
His eyes darkened, voice dropping to a whisper.
“…you wouldn’t be alive right now.”
The world went silent.
Silas leaned in just enough for her to feel his breath against her ear.
“I’m not your enemy.”
He stepped back.
“And if you want the truth about your father—about your abilities—”
His gaze locked on hers, intense enough to steal breath.
“—you’re going to have to trust me.”
---
- Writer
