Chapter 4 The Gathering Storm

The night air was sharp. Cold enough to bite through my coat. I pulled it tight, wishing I had stayed inside. But I couldn't. Not after what I had heard.

The halls of the estate were silent, too silent. No footsteps. No distant chatter. Just the low hum of the wind pushing against the old windows. I moved fast, keeping my steps light. The wooden floors groaned under me, each creak a warning.

I knew where I was going. The library. That's where the voices came from earlier. I had caught only fragments through the wall-names I didn't know, plans I didn't understand. But the tone... it was dangerous.

I slowed as I reached the tall doors. A thin strip of warm light spilled into the hall from the gap between them. I leaned in close. My ear pressed to the wood.

"...we can't risk her finding out," a man's voice said. It was deep, steady.

"She's already asking questions," another replied, sharper, younger. "It's only a matter of time."

My chest tightened. Were they talking about me? I swallowed and forced myself to breathe slowly.

The sound of a glass hitting the table made me flinch. A third voice spoke, quieter but firm. "Then we act before she has the chance."

The silence that followed felt heavier than the words. My fingers curled around the door handle without thinking. But I stopped. I couldn't just walk in. Not without knowing more.

A floorboard behind me groaned. I spun fast, heart racing. No one. Just a draft moving through the hall. But the noise was enough.

The voices inside stopped.

I froze.

The doors swung open.

Light flooded the hall, blinding me for a moment. When my eyes cleared, a tall man stood there. His eyes locked on mine. They were dark, unreadable, but not surprised.

"Eavesdropping?" His tone was calm, almost amused.

My mind scrambled for an answer. "I... I was looking for the bathroom."

A faint smile touched his lips. "Of course you were." He stepped aside, motioning me in. "Come. No need to lurk in the shadows."

I hesitated, every instinct screaming to run. But my feet moved forward. The library had this smell of leather and old paper. A fire crackled in a corner, throwing flickers of light across the shelves. Two other people sat at the table, watching me.

One was the younger voice I had heard-Kieran. He had sharp features and a restless gaze. The other was older, with silver hair and a calm, steady posture-Lyra.

"This is her?" Kieran asked.

"Yes," the tall one-Dorian-replied. "Our guest."

Guest. The word felt wrong.

They didn't ask me to sit. Kieran leaned forward, fingers drumming on the table. "You've been here a few days now," he said. "Seen a lot. Heard things you shouldn't."

I forced my voice to stay even. "I don't know what you mean."

Lyra's eyes softened. "You're in danger. Whether you realize it or not."

That caught me off guard. "From what?"

Kieran's gaze flicked to Dorian. Something passed between them. Then he said, "From us. From others. It depends on the choice you make tonight."

My throat felt dry. "What choice?"

Dorian stepped closer. His shadow fell across me. "Stay, and you'll have protection. Leave, and we can't guarantee what happens next."

It should have been an easy answer. But my gut told me there was more they weren't saying.

"I need to think," I said.

"You don't have time." Kieran's voice was sharp now. "There's a storm coming, and when it breaks, you'll either be under our roof... or buried under it."

The fire popped in the silence that followed. I took a step back, but Dorian didn't move. His presence filled the room like a wall.

Somewhere outside, thunder rolled.

"You have until the clock strikes midnight," Lyra said.

All three pairs of eyes stayed on me as I turned and walked out. My hands shook, but I kept my head high. The hall felt longer than before, the shadows deeper.

I didn't go to my room. Not yet. I needed answers. Real ones. And there was only one person in this house who might give them to me-if I could find him.

I moved quickly, down the servants' stairs, through the narrow passages that cut behind the main hall. The sound of rain started on the roof, soft at first, then harder. By the time I reached the back of the estate, the storm was pounding.

I spotted a figure by the side door, half-hidden by shadow. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and smoking a cigarette. The glow lit his face for a second.

It was him. The gardener. The one who had warned me, in passing, to "watch my step."

I stepped closer, my shoes silent on the stone floor. "I need to talk to you."

His eyes flicked to the hall behind me, then back. "You shouldn't be here."

"They said I have until midnight. I need to know why."

He dropped the cigarette, crushing it under his boot. "Because after midnight, you won't have a choice."

A loud bang echoed from somewhere in the house. Not thunder. Something else.

His eyes widened. "They know you're here."

Before I could speak, he grabbed my arm. "We have to move. Now."

We ran through the back door into the rain. The cold hit me like a slap. My coat was soaked in seconds. He pulled me toward the stables, his grip iron-tight.

Another sound cut through the storm-a shout, far behind us. Then the heavy thud of boots.

"They're coming," he said.

Lightning flashed, throwing the estate into sharp light for a split second. I saw shapes moving fast in the distance.

The gardener shoved open the stable door. "Hide here," he ordered.

I stepped inside, heart racing. But before I could turn, the door slammed shut behind me.

And locked.