Chapter 3 A call from a familiar stranger

I drifted through the mansion all day, half-invisible, more shadow than person.

Alessandra brought lunch to the library, but I barely touched it. The house creaked and groaned, every sound setting my nerves on edge. I flinched at footsteps, at voices echoing somewhere deep in the halls always bracing for Damon's.

Late afternoon finally snapped the silence.

Heavy boots hammered down the main staircase. Men's voices are sharp, low, and tense. I crept to the library door and peeked out.

Damon stood in the lobby, yanking on a black coat. Marco and Antonio flanked him, both in dark tactical gear. They didn't look at each other, just grim and focused.

"We take three cars," Damon said, not wasting a word. "You two with me. Tell the others to cover the perimeter. No one gets close."

Marco shot a glance up the stairs, right toward me.

"The girl?" he asked.

Damon's eyes tracked the look. For a second, I thought he'd spotted me. "She stays. Lock the east wing. Post Enzo at her door."

Lock me in. Like some animal. Like I was nothing.

Antonio checked his gun magazine snapped in with a click that made my stomach twist. "Intel says The Vipers have inside help. Someone talked."

Damon's jaw clenched. "Find out who. After tonight."

He turned and finally saw me, half-hidden in the shadows. Our eyes met. His face was stone cold, unreadable, not a flicker of fear or doubt.

He looked away. "Move out."

They left. The front door slammed so hard it rattled the windows.

Silence swallowed the house again. A new guard, Enzo, apparently planted himself outside my bedroom, a slab of muscle and zero words.

Night crept in. I sat by the window, staring at the empty gates, replaying Antonio's words. Inside help. Someone had betrayed them.

That sick feeling in my gut just grew. This wasn't business anymore. This was war, and I was trapped in the general's fortress alone.

Then my phone buzzed. Not the house phone, my own cell, buried at the bottom of my bag. I'd forgotten it was even there. My heart thudded as I grabbed it.

A text from an unknown number.

Unknown: Elena? It's Lucas. Are you okay? The man who answered your phone sounded dangerous. Please, just tell me you're safe.

Lucas. Relentless, hopeful Lucas. My last tie to normal life.

My fingers shook as I typed.

Me: I can't talk. I'm not safe.

Lucas: Where are you? I'll come get you.

Me: No! You can't. He'll kill you.

Lucas: Who is he? Your father said you got married. Elena, what's going on?

Before I could answer, another message flashed on the screen. Different number. My blood went ice cold.

Damon: Put the phone down. Now.

How did he know?

Suddenly every corner of the room felt dangerous. Was he watching me? Listening?

The phone vibrated again Lucas.

Lucas: I'm not leaving you in some forced marriage. I'm in the city. Meet me tomorrow. The old bookstore cafe. 3 PM. Please.

The door flew open.

Enzo stood there, palm out. "Phone."

Damon must've sent him. I handed it over, no fight left in me.

He left, locking the door behind him.

Now I was really alone. Disconnected. The hours dragged. Midnight came and went. No sign of Damon or the others.

My thoughts spiraled. Was he dead somewhere? Shot in some dark warehouse? Part of me, just a tiny, guilty part, felt a flutter of relief at the idea. Then the shame hit hard.

A crash shattered the quiet downstairs. Not the front door, something breaking. Glass.

A man shouted at someone I'd never heard before.

My breath stopped. Enzo should've been outside, but I heard nothing from him.

Another crash, closer this time.

This wasn't Damon.

Footsteps thundered up the main stairs. Fast, loud. More than one person. They weren't even trying to be quiet.

The handle on my door rattled. Then a bang hard. The lock is held, for now.

"Check the other rooms!" someone barked from the hall. "He said she'd be on this floor!"

He said. Inside help.

The pounding came again, harder. The frame started to split.

I scrambled back to the window, hands searching for anything to defend myself. All I found was a heavy glass vase.

The door exploded open.

Two men, both in black, faces hidden behind ski masks. Their eyes fixed on me.

"There she is," the taller one said. "The boss wants her alive."

They stepped in.

I raised the vase, voice shaking but fierce. "Stay back!"

The short one laughed. "Cute."

They rushed me.