Chapter 3 - The Ghost from the Past
The lockdown protocol locked the pediatric wing down within minutes, but heavy metal security shutters only created a false sense of security. If someone wanted to get in, and that someone was Julian, metal doors weren't going to stop him.
Detective Vance drew his service weapon, motioning for the two uniformed officers stationed outside my door to hold their positions. “Stay under the covers, Leo,” Vance whispered, his face tight with tension. “Don't make a sound.”
I nodded, sliding down beneath scratchy white cotton sheets, but I didn't close my eyes. I watched through a small gap in the fabric as Vance slipped out into the hallway. Muffled shouts echoed down the corridor—a mix of hospital staff panicking and security guards trying to maintain order. Then came the unmistakable sound of running boots, followed by a heavy thud that rattled the doorframe of my room.
Mom’s letter was still resting on the bedside table inside its evidence bag. From my low vantage point, I could see a corner of the handwritten pages sticking out. Driven by an overwhelming urge that defied my seven years of age, I reached out from under the blanket, grabbed the bag, and fumbled it open. I pulled out the folded pages, desperate to find an answer to the terror closing in around us.
The handwriting was messy, written as if Mom had been trembling in the dark.
“Leo, my brave boy. If you are reading this, it means I couldn't protect you from the end. Julian has found us. He is not who you think he is; he is a shadow from a life I tried to bury. He believes the twins belong to his legacy, and he will tear down the world to claim them. Take the address on the back page. Find Arthur. He is your grandfather, a man I told you was gone. He is the only one with the power and the bunker to keep you all alive.”
Grandfather? Mom had always told me everyone in our family was dead. She said we were the last leaves on a burned-out tree.
Suddenly, the door to my room slowly creaked open.
My breath caught in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, clutching the papers to my chest beneath the blanket, pretending to be asleep. Heavy footsteps padded across the linoleum floor. They didn't sound like police boots; they were too soft, too calculated, like a predator stalking through dry brush.
A shadow fell across the bed. A cold hand brushed against the edge of the blanket, pulling it back.
I forced myself to keep my breathing slow and even, my heart pounding so loudly I was certain the intruder could hear it.
“Clever girl, Sarah,” a deep, chilling voice murmured above me. It was a voice smooth as polished glass, carrying an eerie undertone of absolute calm. “You thought hiding behind a dying heart and a child in a wheelbarrow would save them from me?”
A gloved hand hovered inches from my face, lingering just above my forehead before withdrawing.
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“Sleep well, little warrior,” the voice whispered. “We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other very soon.”
The footsteps turned and retreated toward the door. As the lock clicked shut, I let out a ragged breath, tears streaming down my face. Julian had been right here in the room with me, and he knew exactly who I was.
