Chapter 10 The Ghost Beneath the Rose Garden

Victor was unraveling.

Emily saw it in the way his eyes twitched when the staff didn't bow fast enough. In the sharp clench of his jaw when he scrolled through his encrypted tablet. Whatever peace he pretended to have was a mask slipping with each passing hour-and she was counting the cracks.

She wore a red dress that day.

Not for Victor, but for herself.

It made her feel like fire, even in a house built like a cage.

She sat in the garden with a book in her lap, but her eyes weren't on the pages. They were fixed on the gardener-an older man with weathered hands who always avoided eye contact. She had noticed him three times this week, and something about him didn't fit.

Too alert.

Too careful.

He was watching her, but not like Victor did.

She stood up, pretending to stretch, then walked across the gravel path toward the old fountain. The gardener paused as she passed, his fingers tightening around the trowel.

"Beautiful roses," she murmured.

He glanced at her. Just enough to mutter, "Under the third bush. Sunset."

She didn't flinch. Didn't look at him again.

Just walked.

She knew better than to ask questions when ghosts were speaking.

That night, she waited for the house to sleep.

Victor's estate had cameras-plenty-but not in the garden. That was where he held his secrets, and even monsters liked shadows for privacy. She moved quickly, barefoot, heart racing.

The third rose bush.

She dug with her hands, the soil cold and damp beneath her nails. After two minutes, her fingers scraped metal. A tin box.

Inside: a burner phone and a small note.

Run north when the bell tower strikes twice. Don't look back.

Her hands trembled.

This wasn't a trap. She knew traps. This was something else.

A chance.

But Victor had grown paranoid. He barely left the estate now, and the guards rotated every four hours. Her window was thin.

She slipped the phone into her dress lining and covered the hole.

Then, she waited.

Two nights later, the bell rang once.

She was already dressed in black, her pulse a drumbeat of fury and hope.

The bell rang a second time.

She moved.

Down the corridor, past the wine cellar, through the servant's door into the dark. The cold air slapped her skin like a warning. But she didn't stop.

At the fence, she dropped to the ground and crawled under the gap she'd loosened earlier in the week.

Footsteps behind her.

"Stop!"

She bolted.

The woods swallowed her.

Branches slapped her face, thorns tore her dress, but she ran. Toward the old chapel she had seen from Victor's office window. It hadn't been used in years. The perfect rendezvous point.

She arrived, breathless, just as headlights cut through the trees.

A car.

She paused, unsure, but the door opened and a familiar voice barked, "Get in."

Liam.

She didn't think-just ran into his arms.

He caught her, crushed her to his chest, then shoved her into the car.

The engine roared.

"Drive," he ordered.

Celine was behind the wheel, eyes on fire. "Good to see you, sweetheart. We brought fireworks."

Behind them, the woods exploded in shouts. Gunshots cracked. A bullet pinged off the rear bumper.

Emily ducked. "They know-he knows-"

"I'm counting on it," Liam growled.

The car swerved onto an old road, dust clouding the rear view. For ten full minutes, no one spoke.

Then Liam turned to her, voice low. "Did he hurt you?"

Emily's throat tightened. "He watched me sleep. Threatened Daniel. Used me like I was-"

Liam's fist slammed into the dashboard, cracking the plastic.

"I should've killed him sooner."

"You still can," she whispered. "I brought the ledger."

Celine let out a sharp breath. "Are you serious?"

Emily nodded and pulled the hollow book from her coat. "It's all here. Transactions, offshore accounts, names. Even Lucien Moretti's."

Celine looked shocked. "He's real?"

"Oh, he's more than real," Emily said. "He's coming for Victor. But he's watching me. I don't know what he wants."

"I do," Liam muttered. "Lucien trained Victor. He's not after power-he's after blood."

"So what do we do?" she asked.

Liam reached over and took her hand.

"We burn them both."

Back at the estate, Victor stood before the rose garden, eyes narrowed at the disturbed soil.

"She found it," he murmured.

Lucien stepped out of the shadows behind him.

"She was always going to," Lucien said. "She has that kind of hunger."

Victor turned. "You used me."

Lucien smiled slowly. "I created you. Now I'm creating something better."

"You'll regret this."

"No," Lucien said softly. "You will."

In the car, Emily looked out the window as the sky bled into morning.

Beside her, Liam was silent, but his grip on her hand never loosened.

She'd escaped the beast's den.

But she was heading straight into a war.

And this time, she wasn't just fighting to survive.

She was fighting to win.