Chapter 8 - The Shadow's Face
The peace of the cabin was a fragile illusion that shattered two days later.
Ethan had gone into the nearby town to secure an encrypted satellite phone, leaving Elena and Noah locked securely inside the cabin. He promised to be gone no longer than an hour.
Elena was in the small kitchen, preparing lunch, when the power suddenly cut out. The hum of the generator died, plunging the cabin into an eerie silence.
“Noah, come here,” Elena called out immediately, her protective instincts flaring.
Noah ran out of the bedroom, clutching his favorite toy car. Elena picked him up, moving toward the hidden panic room Ethan had shown her. But before she could reach the bookshelf that concealed the door, the front door of the cabin was blown off its hinges with a deafening explosion.
Smoke filled the room. Elena coughed, shielding Noah’s face, and raised her firearm.
Through the smoke walked Marcus. He wasn't alone; six heavily armed mercenaries flanked him. Marcus held a suppressed rifle, his face twisted into a cruel, triumphant smile.
“Put the gun down, Elena,” Marcus ordered. “You might have gotten lucky in the garage, but you can't shoot all of us before we fill that boy with lead.”
Elena’s hands shook, but she didn't lower the weapon. “Ethan will kill you for this.”
“Ethan is going to be too busy grieving to kill anyone,” Marcus sneered. He gestured to his men. “Take the girl. And put a bullet in the kid.”
Elena didn't hesitate. She fired at Marcus, but a mercenary stepped in the way, taking the hit. Before she could fire again, a heavy blow struck the back of her head. The world spun violently, and darkness swallowed her as she fell to the wooden floor, her last conscious thought a desperate prayer for Noah’s safety.
When she woke, she was no longer in the cabin. She was tied to a metal chair in a vast, abandoned industrial warehouse. The air smelled of rust and cold concrete. Her head throbbed with agonizing pain.
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She looked up. Standing in front of her was a man who looked like a dark, twisted mirror image of Ethan. He had the same broad shoulders, the same dark hair, but his face was scarred, and his eyes were completely devoid of humanity.
“Hello, Elena,” the man said, his voice a chilling echo of Ethan’s. “I am Julian Sterling. And you are the bait.”
