Entwined in the Shadows

Not Hidden Anymore

CHAPTER ONE

Not Hidden Anymore

Noah sits at his desk typing relentlessly into his laptop. He has a deadline for work and he cannot afford to lose his job. Losing his job would mean fully depending on his guardian again— and that thought alone sends a chill down his spine. Not again. Mr. Jackson has already done more than enough for him. After hours of work, he pushes back from his desk and stretches, rolling out tension from his back. He begins to pace his modest room, muttering ideas under his breath, both of his hands on his head as he searches for the next prompt. Then it clicks. His eyes light up and he immediately hurries back to his chair.

But before he starts typing—he stops. His gaze lands on it. A picture of his lovely parents, half hidden behind the curtain. He had hidden it there five months ago, burying it in a shadow so he would not have to see their faces—so he would not feel that familiar burn of rage. Now, the curtain hangs out of place and the frame peeks through—just enough for him to see their faces. He tries to look away. He really does. His jaw tightens. A dangerous breath follows.

He stares deeply into it, as if searching for something. Something that no longer exists. He grabs it and holds it close—clutching it tightly to his chest. As if squeezing hard enough would bring the past back to life. He remembers the exact moment everything fell apart. The day he held both of his parents for the last time. The day everything broke. The memory is sharp, brutal—like glass against skin. The sight awakens something within him. Something cold. Something unforgiving. He squeezes his eyes shut and lies back on his bed, the photo still on his chest. Not now, he tells himself, not after all these years. “I will not cry.” The words leave his lips quietly, more command than comfort. He has learned this much by now, how to guard his emotions. To hide pain beneath his unreadable expression. He should be numb by now, but this part of his heart still aches. His chest still tightens… still remembers. Shadows stretch across the room, mirroring the heaviness in his heart.

He hears familiar footsteps approach his room. Noah sits up. He looks up and notices a firm presence hidden beneath the shadows. He focuses some more on the figure. Then, the figure walks into his room and fully reveals himself. Of course, it’s Mr. Jackson. The tension in his chest eases. He watches Mr. Jackson closely, something softer flickering beneath the surface. He still doesn't understand how someone could be this kind to him. Mr. Jackson speaks, his voice cutting through the train of thought in Noah’s head. “Noah Sinclair, how long will you wallow in self-pity? You must take action sooner or later.” The words settle heavily. Noah clutches the photo even tighter. His hands curl, his body folding slightly into a ball. All of the memories surge back at once. The laughter, the blood and then the pain he had to go through. For a moment Mr. Jackson pats his back slowly—offering comfort to him. His presence, steady and warm. Then, more quietly, he whispers: “It's late now. You should sleep.” After, the room swallows him whole. He clenches his fist tight as he paces his room. “If they think they are untouchable because of their wealth, then they are wrong. I will not spare them!”

He places the frame back, this time beside his bed. Not hidden. Not anymore. He picks up his phone aggressively, almost knocking the glass of water beside it. He types into the search bar: THE PETERSONS. The results appear within seconds. A perfect wealthy family pops up. Smiling faces and polished lives. Too perfect. His jaw locks again, as though he could hurt them from the screen but then, he inhales deeply exhaling all of the fury he feels. Not this way, not impulsively… he whispers to himself. He has to be calm and calculating. He scrolls with much precision, analyzing every detail. Hours pass, and he is still fixed on THE PETERSONS. Their history, connections and their wealth. From the corner of his eye, he sees her. ELIANA PETERSON. His thumb stills. His gaze fixes on her. There's something about her. Something… untouched by all of it. He lingers for a moment longer than he should— then he forces himself to look away. His expression hardens. “I'll make them answer for it.” His resolve steadily grows stronger. It comes with something unsettling, something darker. It isn't anger anymore. It's intention. Revenge. And now that desire burns deeper than ever before.

The next morning, Mr. Jackson’s voice cuts through the quiet. “Don’t you have a project to submit today?” Noah exhales sharply, pushing himself out of bed. Within minutes, he's dressed and at the dining table. He grabs a chair and proceeds to have breakfast, joining Mr. Jackson. As he eats, Noah watches Mr. Jackson at the other end of the table. His head tilts towards his laptop while his hands assemble a sandwich with practiced ease. The sight aggravates him. “Why exactly do you still work for them?” Noah asks suddenly. Mr. Jackson pauses. He looks up, meeting Noah’s gaze directly. Immediately, he sees it, the anger barely contained. He notices the boy’s rage and he responds carefully. “Well… for now, I do not have a choice.” Noah counters immediately—slamming his hand on the table “But you know about all their cruel and illegal dealings, you told me yourself. They're also responsible for my parents’ death!” Mr. Jackson exhales, then moves his chair closer. He places a steady hand on Noah’s back. “If I walk away now, I'll lose more than just the job,” he says quietly. The words hang between them. Then a sharp sound cuts through the moment. His alarm. Mr. Jackson stands up quickly, grabbing his laptop and his bag. “I'll be late,” he mutters, already heading for the door. Then he's gone, leaving Noah in despair. Noah remains seated, tapping his hands against the table as a way of letting all of his anger out. He can’t eat anymore. Not after listening to Mr. Jackson. “Money,” he mutters bitterly. “That's what it always comes down to.” He leans back slowly. “Fine!” he says under his breath. “I will take that from them too.”

Throughout his day at work, his mind refuses to settle. He has to break into their walls somehow and create a crack from within. The plan begins to take shape. The urgency to act grows stronger. This time when the darkness rises, he doesn’t fight it. He welcomes it.