Elara's POV
The knock comes at 2:13 a.m.
Not loud. Not rushed. Just… deliberate.
Three knocks — evenly spaced — the kind that aren't asking for entry, but announcing arrival.
Elara freezes mid-step, her bare feet glued to the cold floor of her London flat. The dim streetlight outside leaks through the half-drawn curtains, painting her living room in silver and shadow. She doesn't breathe. The air feels heavy, humming with quiet danger.
Her heart thrums against her ribs. She's not easily scared anymore, but that sound—three precise knocks—drags her back to another time. Another door. Another night.
"Get a grip, Ela," she whispers, voice cracking.
She moves toward the entryway, her hand trembling slightly as it finds the switch. The hallway light flickers on, illuminating the old oak door. Her pulse quickens. She peers through the peephole.
No one.
Just the rain, the narrow street below, and the ghost of her own reflection.
She exhales, shaky and unsure. Maybe she imagined it. Maybe the exhaustion is finally catching up to her. She's been awake for thirty-six hours, digging into the disappearance of Maya Trent — a twenty-year-old bartender who vanished after leaving her shift at The Silver Vein, a club with more secrets than customers.
Elara shuts her eyes for a second, letting the silence stretch. She turns back toward the kitchen—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Her blood runs cold.
The sound vibrates through the floor this time, slower, deeper.
She grips the nearest thing she can — a letter opener. Useless, but better than nothing.
"Who's there?" she calls out, forcing her voice steady.
No answer.
Then — a quiet rustle. An envelope slides under the door. The paper scrapes against the floorboards like a whisper.
Elara stares at it for a full minute before crouching. The envelope is black. No name. No address. Only a wax seal — crimson, pressed with an unfamiliar insignia. A serpent coiled around a dagger.
Her chest tightens.
The symbol. She's seen it before — in her case notes. On a photo from one of the missing girls. A tattoo on the man standing behind her in CCTV footage.
Her fingers tremble as she breaks the seal.
Inside, there's a single sheet of paper. Neatly folded. Ink smudged slightly, like someone wrote it fast.
You're getting too close, Elara Quinn. Step back before I make you remember how it feels to be afraid.
The handwriting is elegant, almost practiced.
Beneath it, another line, written in smaller script — different pen, darker ink.
He's watching you again.
Elara's breath catches. She looks up instinctively, scanning the shadows of her apartment. Every corner seems to move. Every reflection looks like a pair of eyes.
Her phone buzzes on the table. She jumps. The screen lights up. Unknown number.
She hesitates, then answers. "Who is this?"
A pause. Static. Then a voice — low, smooth, intimate.
"Did you miss me, little liar?"
Her grip tightens around the phone. "Damen?" she whispers, though she's not sure if it's a question or a curse.
He chuckles softly, the sound like dark velvet. "You remember my name. I'm flattered."
"What do you want?"
"I want you to stop chasing ghosts," he says, his tone calm but commanding. "You're playing in my world again, and you don't belong here."
Her throat goes dry. "You're the one behind this?"
A pause. Then, almost tenderly —
"No, Elara. I'm the one keeping you alive."
The call cuts off.
Silence again. But it's different now — heavier, colder.
Elara lowers the phone slowly, her pulse hammering in her ears. The city outside feels distant, unreal.
She moves to the window and looks out. Across the street, a man in a black coat stands under a flickering lamp. He's not moving. Just watching.
When she blinks, he's gone.
Her reflection stares back — pale, wide-eyed, and shaking. But beneath the fear, something else flickers.
Curiosity.
And a dark, dangerous pull she swore she'd buried years ago.
"Fine," she murmurs, sliding the letter into her desk drawer. "If you want me to stop…"
She grabs her camera, her recorder, her coat.
"…you'll have to make me."
As she steps into the rain, the envelope seal glints faintly in the light — the serpent and the dagger, waiting to strike again.
End of chapter 4 💀