They stepped into the foyer, their footsteps barely making a sound against the dust-laden floorboards.
Emily’s gaze lifted, and she let out a breath. “My gosh, look at that staircase! And that chandelier—there must be hundreds of crystals.”
“Right?” I murmured, still shaken. “This place was once a masterpiece.”
I swallowed my worry and glanced up the stairs. I needed to know if there were anything—or anyone—inside.
“I’m going to check upstairs,” I said, leveling my voice. “You wait down here. If you hear anything strange, get outside as fast as possible. Understood?”
Emily hesitated before nodding. “Understood.”
I ascended the steps, each groan and creak beneath my weight sending me a fresh jolt of unease.
At the first landing, I paused, scanning both directions.
Left or right?
My gut pulled me toward the right-hand stairs. Steeling myself, I continued upward.
When I reached the top, I froze.
A shadow loomed at the end of the dim hallway.
Framed by the pale light of a small window, a tall, muscular man stood motionless, his broad shoulders cutting an imposing silhouette. Cobwebs dangled from the ceiling above him, swaying slightly in the draft.
His eyes locked onto mine—dark, piercing, unreadable.
A presence like steel and shadow, radiating quiet power.
My pulse pounded in my throat.
It could only be Eyan Malik.
Chapter 4
Olivia
The man lurking in the shadows at the end of the hallway sent chills racing down my spine.
After all this time… I had finally found him.
My body trembled, though I wasn’t sure if it were from shock, rage, exhilaration—or sheer exhaustion pressing down on me after weeks of relentless searching. Maybe it was all at once, unraveling in this moment.
I didn’t know. I didn’t care.
Steeling myself, I straightened my posture and took several deep, measured breaths, forcing the trembling to subside. My voice came out strong.
“Who are you? Step out of the shadows and reveal yourself.”
He didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t so much as acknowledge that I had spoken.
He stood there, a towering figure, his hands relaxed at his sides. The dim light from the window barely illuminated the rise and fall of his broad chest, his breathing measured.
“You must be Eyan Malik,” I said, clenching and unclenching my hands. “I’ve traveled a long way to find you.”
Silence.
Frustration simmered beneath my skin. “I’m tired of chasing shadows. I need you to face me. Show yourself.”
