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“Always am,” Damian’s response is smooth, velvety. He’s got this way of speaking that gets under your skin like he knows things about you that you haven’t even figured out yourself. His words have layers, each one darker than the last, wrapping around you until you’re caught up in whatever web he’s weaving.
My mind races, trying to connect the dots. What are they talking about? What’s so important that it has to be shrouded in whispers and shadows of midnight at the Manor?
They’re talking in code almost, and it’s intriguing to me, even though everything about this feels off, like a scene from one of those movies where you’re screaming at the character not to open the door.
Fragments of sentences drift through the crack like smoke, curling into my consciousness, elusive and teasing. My brain is on fire, each piece of a puzzle I need to fit together.
“The sect doesn’t forgive easily.” Alistair’s voicecuts through, loud and clear, despite being low and dangerous.
That wordsectsends a cold streak down my back. What sect? I chew on my lip, the taste of anxiety on my tongue. The following silence is heavy, filled with unsaid things, with hidden threats lurking just below the surface.
“Understood,” comes Damian’s reply, smooth as shadowed silk. “It will be dealt with swiftly and brutally.” His calm sends ripples of unease, skittering across my mind. sects, secrets, and now this chill certainty in his tone?
My gut twists, a knot of fear and fascination. I’m out of my depth, swimming with sharks in dark waters. But I can’t stop now. I need to know more. Whatever this is about, it’s secretive and draws me in through the curiosity that is the very patchwork of my nature.
I lean away from the door, breaths shallow.
“One slip, and we’re not just ruined; we’re dead.” Alistair’s comment is casual, but strikes fear in my soul. His words are ice, and they freeze my veins. The consequences he hints at are not just scandal or disgrace—this is something else, something fatal.
“No turning back.” Damien is absolute in his statement.
No turning back? My mind races. From what? What have they entangled themselves in that reeks of such darkness?
Their voices drop to a whisper again, and I strain to hear more. Nothing. Silence wraps around me likea cloak, and I’m left with the chill of their words, the gravity of secrets I’m not meant to know.
The voices fade, and I pull back from the door, my brain working overtime. There’s a secret here, in the heart of the old English manor where power and tradition are etched into the very stones, and I’ll find it. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that secrets always find a way to the surface, and when they do, I’ll be ready.
I have to be.
Moving quickly to the kitchen, I flick on the light and search the cupboards for something to eat, trying to focus on the mundane task. The contents of the cupboards barely register as I automatically reach for a box of cereal and a bowl. The crunch of the dry flakes is loud in the silence, too noisy, like they’re echoing the pounding in my chest.
Splashing in too much milk, I shove a spoonful into my mouth, the taste bland on my tongue. My mind isn’t here; it’s stuck to that door, glued to the mystery behind it. sects. Brutality. Whispers of darkness cloaked in casual conversation. This isn’t just university or some rich family drama.
My hunger is overshadowed by the torrent of questions swirling in my mind. Who’s part of this sect? What’s at stake for Alistair and Damien? The menace in their tones was unmistakable, and it’s clear they’re playing a dangerous game—one where the stakes might just be life or death.
What am I going to do with this information? It’s like I’ve stumbled upon a live wire, and now I’mholding it without knowing where to put it down safely. Do I confront them? That seems foolhardy and possibly lethal. Do I keep it to myself? The weight of such a secret might be too much for me to bear alone.
I finish eating mechanically and rinse off the bowl, placing everything back exactly as I found it.
Slipping back across the hall, I glance toward that closed door—half-tempted to listen again, half-terrified I’ll be caught eavesdropping on matters that could have dire consequences. Swallowing the thick fear that clogs my throat, I creep back up the stairs to my room, each step heavy with dread and uncertainty.
KnightsGate Manor at night is a different beast; its shadows are more menacing, and its silence is more oppressive. Every creak and moan of the old building sets my nerves on edge. By the time I reach my door, my hands are shaking. I should feel safe here, in the privacy of my room, but the feeling is elusive, slipping through my fingers like sand. Even in here, I feel like I’m being watched.
“It’s just the dark, Ever. You’re being daft.”
What game are they playing, and how did I find myself in the middle of something that feels so much bigger than any of us? The helplessness threatens to overwhelm me, but I push it down. Weakness isn’t an option now.
I need to remain alert yet appear clueless.
Despite the sinister conversation I eavesdropped on, which really could be anything without context, Idon’t feel like this is a house of danger. The guys have protected me. Saved me, even.
It only adds another complicated layer to this mystery, and it’s something that I want to solve. The feeling that Ineedto solve it swarms me, and as I climb into bed, pulling the covers up high over my head, My dreams are swept away with secrets and lies, danger and beautifully dark men.
24
EVER
Ipush the heavy oak door open, my hand shaky. The corridor behind me is abuzz with the office staff at KnightsGate the next afternoon, but ahead, Chancellor Aldritch’s office feels like stepping into a spotlight. I loathe the spotlight. I’m not ready for this, whatever this is. The sudden and terrifying thought that he wants to see me about the report I filed on Stanley makes my mouth go dry.
