Claimed By Shadows

CHAPTER FOUR: Loyalty vs. Truth

Theodore POV

"You've been making decisions without telling me."

My brother keeps looking at the glass of whiskey in his hand…lost in his thoughts.

The room remains quiet.

"I don't need anyone's permission," Martin finally says calmly.

"No, you don't" I reply. "But you do need to explain."

Martin finally looks at me, his eyes sharp, thinking. The same eyes I grew up comparing myself to. The same voice that taught me that power is best arranged.

"Is this still about the girl," Martin says.

"Her name is Eloise."

A pause.

Interesting.

"You're getting too attached," he says lightly.

"I'm getting the facts." I feel so angry about the fact that he's trying to act like this conversation doesn't matter.

He places his glass down. "You're putting yourself at risk by trying to get involved."

"I didn't ask for your opinion."

"Sadly, you never do," he replies. "And that has always been your weakness."

I feel the heavy tension between us tighten. Not new. Just coming back up.

"She was protected," he continues. "Kept safe. Under control."

"You don't lock people up and claim to be keeping them safe by doing so."

"Well, you do," he argues back. "When the other option is leaving them exposed."

I take a step closer. "Exposed to what actually?"

His jaw becomes stiff. "To a mess she was already caught up in."

I decide to leave his office before I say something destructive or remind him about who taught him how to be afraid of losing control.

I don't sit down once I get back to my office.

I pace.

This is the part I hate so much…the part where loyalty says stay quiet and truth says destroy things.

I pull up the locked file again. Not the one HR sent. The one Martin doesn't know I can get into.

It takes longer than usual. Layers of security codes. Legal hiding tricks. Intentional blank spots.

When it opens, my breathing slows down.

Her real name appears on the screen.

Not Eloise.

A different last name. One I recognize.

My chest tightens.

I scroll down.

Former employer. Senior design strategist. Whistleblower tag flagged and buried under a silence agreement that never went public.

False accusations. Company cover-ups. Internal sabotage.

She didn't leave.

She was removed.

I lean my back into my office chair as I feel the weight of it sinking into my bones.

This now makes so much sense and why she always watches the exits.

Why she moves with suddwn fear whenever people notice her.

Why she holds herself together like someone waiting for the ground to swallow up.

She wasn't joking with me when she said she didn't want attention.

She was surviving.

The betrayal hits later.

Not sharp. Slow. Like something cracking under pressure.

My brother knew.

He knew who she was before she got here. He knew what she'd discovered. He knew why she needed to vanish.

And he still put her here.

Near me.

Near us.

My hands curl into fists, ready to release the anger I feel inside of me right now, because protection doesn't look like this.

This is a manipulative act of using someone.

In the late evening, she's still here. I find her in the design wing with the lights turned down low. She's standing by the window with her arms folded tight, staring out at nothing.

She doesn't hear me coming.

"Eloise."

She goes stiff.

Then turns.

Her face is calm. Too calm. Her face shows the type of calm that comes after something has broken inside you.

"You shouldn't be here," she says.

"Neither should you." I reply.

She releases the breath she has been holding for so long. "I didn't feel like leaving yet."

I step closer, keeping my voice low. "Did you hear everything he said?"

Her eyes blinks so fast.

"Yes."

That single word was heavy.

"I didn't know about it," I try to comfort her. "Not until today."

She studies my face, looking for lies. For games.

She finds none.

"You know now," she says. "That makes you dangerous."

"I was dangerous before."

"That's different."

"How?"

"...because now," she says quietly, "you're involved."

The truth lands heavy.

"I wouldn't pretend that this doesn't make things difficult," I say. "But I am not going anywhere."

Her breath stops. Just slightly.

"You can't make that choice."

"No," I agree. "But I choose to."

She turns back towards the window. "Your brother thinks he's protecting me and doing me a favour."

"He's trying to control the story." I say.

"That's his own way of protection." She mutters.

I hate the fact that she understands him so well.

"Your silence wasn't a game all these while," I say. "It was fear."

She closes her eyes. "Fear keeps me alive."

"Not forever."

She laughs softly. "That's where you have it wrong."

The shift happens quietly.

I don't announce it. I don't warn anyone.

I start changing access codes. Changing schedules. Reducing her exposure.

My protectiveness doesn't shout.

It sharpens.

When executives ask for her presence, I tell them no.

When my elder brother calls, I don't answer.

When security flags movement near her apartment, I add more coverage.

She notices.

"You're coming too close," she tells me one night as we walk out together.

"I know."

"I don't belong to you."

"No," I say. "But keeping you safe does."

She stops walking. "You can't decide that for me."

"But, I have to keep on protecting you."

She searches my face. "Why?"

Because saying I care would give her something she doesn't trust yet.

"Because I won't be another man who watches you disappear," I say instead.

I believe that came out better.

Later, alone, I stand in the dark and let the truth settle in my soul completely.

Protecting her means going against my brother.

It means breaking apart something I helped build.

It means choosing a woman who may never forgive me for knowing, for being part of this world at all.

But power has never been worth much if it costs you your soul.

And love…real love, is never clean.

I think of her eyes when she looks at me like I might be both safety and disaster.

I think of the name she hides.

And the one she doesn't yet know is mine to confess.

Because when she finds out who I really am..

what my family has done…

what my protection might cost her…

I don't know if she'll want to stay.

And that's the risk I am choosing to live with.