The wind howled against the cliffs like something alive — an endless, low moan that rattled the windows and carried whispers through the fog.
Seraphina Vale pressed her palms against the steering wheel, her knuckles pale. The headlights cut through mist, revealing the outline of the old mansion ahead. It loomed over the road — gothic and breathtaking, like something that had been watching the sea for centuries.
This was her new beginning.
Or that's what she kept telling herself.
A year ago, she'd sworn she'd never come back to her family's estate. Too many memories. Too much silence that echoed with ghosts she wasn't ready to face. But after her grandmother's passing, there was no one left. The house was hers — a curse disguised as inheritance.
She stepped out into the cold night air, her boots crunching on gravel. Salt and rain clung to her hair as she gazed up at the tall windows — one of them faintly glowing.
That shouldn't be possible.
No one else was supposed to be here.
Her heart tightened.
Inside, dust floated like snow in the glow of her flashlight. The air smelled of old books and lavender — her grandmother's scent, still lingering in the hallways.
She climbed the staircase slowly. Each step creaked under her weight. Her light caught movement near the end of the corridor — a shadow sliding past the door of her father's old study.
Her pulse spiked. "Hello?"
Silence.
She took another step, the floor cold beneath her feet. When she pushed the door open, there was nothing inside — only bookshelves, heavy curtains, and the faint smell of smoke.
But then she saw it — a glass of half-finished whiskey on the desk. Fresh. Still warm.
Her breath caught in her throat.
And on the edge of the desk lay a single calling card:
A. Knight
Private Security & Risk Consulting
Her fingers trembled as she turned it over. The back was blank except for a handwritten line:
Welcome home, Sera.
She barely slept that night. The sea kept roaring, slamming against the rocks as if it wanted in.
When she did drift off, she dreamt of footsteps behind her — steady, patient, unhurried.
At dawn, she found a black SUV parked halfway down the hill road. Its windows were tinted, engine off. It hadn't been there last night.
She didn't see anyone inside, but she felt it — that watchful stillness, that unblinking attention.
Sera clenched her jaw and walked past, pretending not to notice. But she could feel it even from the distance — eyes tracking her every move.
She told herself it was paranoia.
She told herself ghosts couldn't drive cars.
But when she got back inside, her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
Unknown: "You shouldn't walk alone that early, Seraphina."
Her stomach dropped.
By evening, she'd locked every window. Rain lashed against the glass, lightning cutting across the sea.
A knock echoed at the front door. Three times. Calm. Precise.
Sera froze.
When she finally opened it, he was standing there — tall, dark coat glistening with rain, eyes the color of a storm about to break.
"You must be Seraphina Vale."
His voice was low, even. Dangerous in how quiet it was.
She swallowed hard. "And you are?"
He smiled slightly, not quite reaching his eyes.
"Alex Knight. But you can call me Eli."
The way he said it — you can call me — wasn't an offer. It was an inevitability.
Lightning cracked, and for a second, she saw something behind him — a gun holster, barely visible beneath his coat.
And then, just like that, the storm swallowed the sound of the sea, and she realized something:
He wasn't there by chance.
He had been waiting for her.
The storm had forced him inside.
Water dripped from Eli's coat onto the marble floor, darkening the white stone. Sera's flashlight lay between them, its narrow beam catching his jawline—sharp, still, unreadable.
She forced her voice steady.
"Security consultant, right? You're trespassing."
A pause. Then that faint smile again—controlled, practiced.
"I don't work without invitation."
"Then why are you here?"
He looked around the hall, taking in the portraits, the locked doors, the quiet that breathed like something alive.
"Because you are," he said finally.
Her heartbeat thudded in her ears.
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one that matters."
He stepped closer. Not threatening—measured. Like someone approaching a wild animal he didn't want to scare away.
"This place isn't safe. Someone broke the outer lock two nights ago. I was hired to make sure you stayed alive long enough to sign your inheritance papers."
She frowned. "By whom?"
"Your grandmother. Before she died."
The words landed heavy. The air seemed to shrink between them.
Eli handed her a sealed envelope. The handwriting was her grandmother's—curling, elegant, unmistakable. Sera tore it open with trembling fingers.
If you're reading this, I'm gone. And if you've met Mr. Knight, then you've already seen the eyes that once saved me. Trust him, but only as far as you must.
Sera looked up. "Saved her from what?"
Eli's gaze didn't flinch.
"From the people who now know you're back."
Lightning split the sky again. In its brief glare she saw the faint scar beneath his collar, the subtle readiness in his stance—as if danger were not a possibility but a habit.
He extended a folded document.
"Sign this. It allows me access to the property for security operations. Non-negotiable."
She almost laughed. "You expect me to trust a stranger who shows up in a storm with a gun and a contract?"
"I expect you to stay alive," he replied. "Trust is optional."
For a long moment, only the rain spoke. Then she took the pen. Her hand didn't shake, but the ink blot at the end of her name said otherwise.
Eli gathered the papers, his movements precise.
"You should rest. Tomorrow we start with the perimeter."
"And if I refuse?"
His eyes met hers—storm-gray, unwavering.
"Then I stay anyway."
When he left, the door shut with a quiet finality. Sera leaned against the wall, breath caught somewhere between fear and fascination. Outside, the sea roared; inside, one question echoed louder than the wind:
Who exactly had she just invited into her life?