Chapter 5 Whispers in the West Wing

CHAPTER FIVE

Rain tapped steadily against the windowpanes when Anika opened her eyes. For a moment, she forgot where she was. The bed beneath her was too soft, the silence too loud, and the scent of wood smoke too unfamiliar. Then she remembered-the storm, the fire, Elias.

The room was enormous, dressed in dusty elegance and faded velvet curtains. She'd locked the door last night, just like he said. But something about waking in that house, wrapped in the shadows of its history, made her heartbeat double.

She got up, pulling her cardigan tighter around her. The floorboards creaked under her bare feet as she wandered toward the hallway. The power was still out. Only slivers of gray morning light filtered through the stained-glass windows.

Downstairs, she heard faint movement-muffled footsteps, a door creaking, and then... silence again.

She followed the sound, lantern in hand. Past the grand stairwell, into the older part of the house. The air changed there-damp, colder. Less lived in. As she rounded the corridor, she passed a door that had been cracked slightly open.

Curious, she paused.

Inside was a study, or what remained of one. Bookshelves lined the walls, some empty, others stuffed with yellowed pages and dusty tomes. A glass display case stood in the center of the room. Broken.

And on the floor, just beside the desk, lay a stack of old photographs.

She stepped inside slowly. Picked up the top photo.

It was Elias.

Younger, hair shorter. Smiling. Arms around two people-a woman and a little girl. The girl had his eyes. But the smile... that was missing now.

"Put those back."

Anika jumped, turning quickly.

Elias stood in the doorway, jaw clenched, eyes darker than she'd ever seen them.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snoop. The door was open."

He walked into the room and took the photo from her hand without looking at it.

"This part of the house is off-limits," he said coldly.

She held her ground. "Who were they?"

"No one you need to know."

He turned, and she followed.

"You lost them."

His back stiffened.

"Don't," he said. Not angrily-but with the weariness of a man who'd built too many walls to start tearing them down now.

She reached out, her fingers brushing his arm. "You don't have to carry everything alone."

He looked at her then. Really looked.

"Some burdens are safer kept inside. Especially around people you want to protect."

Her heart stuttered. "You think I need protection from you?"

"Not from me. From what follows me."

They stood in silence for what felt like forever.

Then, without a word, he turned and walked away.

But he left the door open this time.

And Anika knew-that was an invitation. A warning. And a choice.

She wasn't sure which yet.

But she wasn't walking away.