“How many sightings?” Alaric asks.
“Four confirmed reports in the past week. Different shifts, different locations, but all describing the same thing. Someone monitoring the estate from just outside our detection capabilities.”
“Inside job?”
“Has to be. This level of coordination requires intimate knowledge of our systems, our schedules, our response protocols. Someone with administrative access has been providing information to hostiles.”
I watch Alaric’s expression darken as the implications sink in. Our sanctuary has been compromised, our security breached by someone we trust.
Alaric studies the security footage from cameras adjacent to the malfunctioning ones, looking for patterns or anomalies. The time stamps show normal activity—guards making rounds, maintenance staff working, delivery trucks coming and going.
“There,” I say, pointing to a shadow at the edge of one frame. “That movement doesn’t match anything else.”
Benedetto enhances the image, but the figure is too distant and unclear to identify. Just a human shape where no one should be.
“Run analysis on all external cameras for the past month,” Alaric orders. “Look for any unusual activity, no matter how minor.”
“Already started. Should have results by tomorrow.”
“And increase patrols around the perimeter. I want motion sensors in the tree line, infrared cameras at all access points.”
“Done.”
After Benedetto leaves to implement the new security measures, Alaric and I sit in tense silence. The comfortable routine of our morning feels like something from another lifetime.
“Could be anyone,” I say eventually. “Business rivals, government surveillance, random criminals looking for opportunities.”
“Could be. But the timing bothers me. This started right after our Vegas meeting, right after the Russians showed us those photographs of Dante.”
“You think it’s connected?”
“I think someone wants us to feel watched, wants us to know our sanctuary isn’t as secure as we believed.”
The implication sends ice through my veins. Someone is playing games with us, testing our defenses, learning our routines. Whether it’s connected to the Dante sightings, Marco’s disappearance, or something else entirely, we’re being hunted by shadows.
“What do we do?”
“We prepare for whatever’s coming,” he says firmly. “And we don’t let fear change how we live.”
“Even with the baby?”
“Especially with the baby. This child is going to grow up safe and protected, no matter what threats emerge from the darkness.”
41
ALARIC
My garden lookslike something from a fairy tale.
Maria and the other staff have transformed the east terrace into an intimate dining space—white tablecloth gleaming in candlelight, flowers arranged with artistic precision, soft jazz drifting from hidden speakers. The evening air carries the scent of jasmine and roses, warm but not oppressive.
“This is beautiful,” Kasimira says as I pull out her chair.
“You deserve beautiful things.”
She’s wearing the blue dress I bought her last week, and in the soft light, her eyes look like midnight. Her body has changed in ways that make my mouth dry—fuller breasts, smoother curves, a gentle roundness to her belly that speaks of the life we created together.
“How was your day?” I ask, settling across from her.
