CHAPTER THREE – Shadows in the Storm POV: Elara
1180 Words
Sirens blared through the house like a scream no one could silence. The hallway lights flashed red. Damien pulled me behind him with a force that said this wasn’t a drill.
“Damien what’s happening?” I gasped, struggling to keep up as he stormed down the corridor, his grip like iron around my wrist.
“We’re under breach,” he said, scanning every door, every shadow. “Someone hacked the perimeter. Armed.”
His gun was steady in his free hand. Not trembling. Not uncertain. This wasn’t new to him.
But it was to me.
“I thought you said I’d be safe here.”
“You were. Until tonight.”
*Until they found me.
Who the hell were they?
We reached the stairs and he pushed me ahead of him. “Down. Move. If they’re after you, they’ll expect you to freeze. Don’t.”
I ran.
At the bottom of the staircase, Damien led me to a door I hadn’t noticed before camouflaged into the wall. He pressed his palm to a scanner. A hiss. The door slid open, revealing a narrow, steel-lined passage lit with dim blue lights.
“What the hell is this?” I whispered.
“Emergency tunnel.”
He shoved me inside, sealed the door, and turned.
We ran again—this time in silence, save for the slap of my feet and the pounding in my chest. The passage twisted underground like a secret vein through the house.
“Where does this lead?”
“Old wine cellar. Used to be a bomb shelter.”
“A little dramatic, don’t you think?”
“I used to work for people who *expected* bombs.”
He stopped at another panel, typed in a code, and a second door creaked open. The room beyond smelled of aged wood, dust, and something metallic.
Blood.
He stepped inside first, scanning with his weapon, then waved me in. I hesitated—until I heard a muffled explosion far above us.
I jumped. He didn’t.
“Go,” he said. “Now.”
I obeyed.
The cellar was darker than the tunnel, lit only by a flickering emergency bulb overhead. It cast long shadows across wooden crates and rusting shelves.
Damien dragged one of the crates to block the door.
Then turned to me. “We’ll stay here until the system resets and I can sweep the house.”
“What if they find us?”
His gaze didn’t waver. “They won’t. I’ve prepared for worse.”
My back hit the wall, legs trembling. “Who are they, Damien? Why are they after *me*?”
He didn’t answer immediately. He paced, hands on his hips, like deciding how much truth would destroy me.
“You remember when your dad was deployed to Astaria five years ago?” he asked at last.
“Of course. He said it was top secret. He never talks about it.”
“Because he never came back the same.”
I froze.
Damien continued, voice low. “That mission wasn’t sanctioned. It was rogue. A handful of officers, including your father, were sent to retrieve something the government never admitted existed.”
“What?”
He walked over to a crate, flipped it open, and pulled out a manila envelope. He tossed it to me.
Inside were satellite photos, classified seals, and handwritten notes.
*Project Helix.*
At the center of it,a crystal. Glowing faintly even in the photo.
“What is this?” I breathed.
“A weapon. Or a key. Depends on who you ask.”
“And my father…?”
“He helped steal it. Then vanished. When he resurfaced months later, he was cleared of all charges. But not everyone bought the story.”
“Are you saying my father was involved in something... *supernatural*?”
“I’m saying he’s not the man you think he is. And neither are the people looking for you.”
He crouched in front of me, gaze searching.
“Elara. Your parents didn’t just send you here because of a transfer. They were hiding you.”
“From who?”
“The people your father betrayed.”
My head spun. I couldn’t breathe. I pressed my palms to my temples.
“No,” I said. “No, that’s crazy. My dad loves me. He wouldn’t”
“He’d do anything to keep his sins hidden. Including using you as a pawn.”
“Why would they be after me?”
“Because your DNA matches a marker found in the Helix.”
I stared at him. “What?”
“You were exposed to it as a child. Probably without knowing. That connection makes you... dangerous. Or valuable. Depending on who finds you first.”
I stood up too fast. The world tilted.
“Sit,” he ordered gently.
I didn’t.
“You’ve known this the whole time?” I whispered. “And you just let me walk around this house like everything was fine?”
“I was watching you.”
“Like a guard dog.”
“Like someone who’s trained to kill threats before they reach your door.”
Silence stretched between us.
I wasn’t sure what scared me more—what was outside the cellar… or the man standing in it with me.
After an hour, the alarms stopped.
Damien checked his watch. “I need to go clear the property. You stay here.”
“No way,” I said. “I’m not hiding in a wine cellar like some terrified mouse.”
He frowned. “Then you’re welcome to die first.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Take me with you.”
“That’s not happening.”
“I know how to shoot.”
“Not like this.”
“You need backup.”
“I need you alive,” he snapped.
We stared at each other.
The silence this time wasn’t tense—it was thick. Heavy. His jaw clenched, and something darker moved behind his eyes.
“Fine,” he growled. “But you follow my every word. You freeze when I say freeze. You shoot if I say shoot.”
I nodded, pulse racing. “Deal.”
We crept back through the tunnel. He handed me a sidearm, checked the safety, then pointed upward. “You go second. Stay behind me.”
We reached the house. Everything was still. Too still.
The living room had been ransacked. Books torn, frames shattered. Bullet holes in the wall.
And blood on the floor.
Fresh.
“Stay alert,” Damien murmured. “They’re still here.”
We passed the hallway—then Damien stopped cold.
Someone stood at the far end.
A man in a black tactical suit. His face covered.
He didn’t speak. Just stared.
Damien raised his weapon. “Run.”
I didn’t get a chance to obey.
The lights exploded overhead. Glass rained down.
I ducked but the figure didn’t move.
Then, in one smooth motion, he reached up and pulled off his mask.
And my blood turned to ice.
“Dad?” I whispered.
- Writer
