Chapter 11 - The Watcher in the Woods
The cold Swiss air bit into my skin as I threw open the heavy oak doors of the estate, my hand instinctively reaching for the firearm tucked into the waistband of my sweatpants.
I did not bother grabbing a coat.
The adrenaline coursing through my veins was enough to keep the freezing wind at bay.
I sprinted across the manicured lawn, my bare feet sinking into the damp earth, my eyes locked on the exact spot where the shadow had been standing.
When I reached the tree line, the figure was gone, swallowed by the dense, impenetrable darkness of the European forest.
I raised my gun, scanning the swaying pines, listening for the crunch of leaves or the snap of a twig.
There was nothing but the sound of the wind rushing off the lake.
I lowered my weapon, my breathing heavy, and stepped closer to the massive oak tree where the figure had stood.
Pinned to the rough bark by a sleek, black stiletto dagger was a single piece of heavy parchment.
I pulled the dagger free, the steel gleaming under the moonlight, and caught the falling paper.
It was a tarot card. The King of Swords.
But the eyes of the king had been violently scratched out with black ink.
My blood turned to ice as Aria’s words echoed in my mind: "The man with no eyes said he is coming for you."
I crushed the card in my fist, the illusion of safety shattering around me in an instant.
When I walked back into the warmth of the house, Elena was standing at the top of the stairs, her arms wrapped around herself.
"What is it?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
I looked at the woman I loved, the woman I had promised a life of peace, and handed her the defaced tarot card.
Elena stared at it, her face paling.
"I thought it was over, Dominic. You said it was over."
I pulled out my secure phone, dialing the only number I knew could untangle a ghost story like this.
"It was over with my family," I replied, pressing the phone to my ear.
"But Vincenzo must have opened a door before he died. A door he could not close."
The line clicked, and Julian Vance’s calm, aristocratic voice filled the quiet hallway.
May you like
"Valenti. It is three in the morning here. This better be a matter of life and death."
"It is," I said coldly. "Julian, tell me everything you know about a ghost called the Blind King."
