Chapter 4: Ghosts in the Shadows

The City Guard’s efficiency matched the Governor’s network. Tracing old clues, they finally uncovered hints about the city’s assassination attempt.

The investigation moved fast—names, faces, motives all coming out. It was just a matter of time before the truth surfaced.

It seemed connected to General Yates’s former subordinates.

The name sent a chill down my spine. The Yates family had been a cautionary tale for years.

Eight years ago, the celebrated General Yates was framed for treason by enemies at city hall. The Governor, out of fear or ambition, rushed the case, shocking the city. Yates’s loyal men were suppressed, his family executed or exiled, only one body never found.

The story was whispered everywhere—how a great man fell, how his family paid the price. It never really faded.

General Yates’s youngest son, Henry Yates.

The missing heir, the ghost in the machine. No one knew what became of him—or so they said.

Given the situation, it seemed likely he’d survived and come back for revenge.

The idea was both thrilling and terrifying. Revenge stories rarely end well.

The year it happened, Cross was fourteen, I was twelve. Even tucked away at home, I heard about it.

I remembered the fear, the whispers in the halls, the way the adults tried to shield us.

General Yates’s worst enemy was then-Junior Advisor—my dad’s brother, my uncle.

Family ties meant nothing here. Blood was just another weapon.

Now a key advisor to the Governor.

He’d risen fast, stepping over bodies. I wondered if he ever lost sleep.

They did all that to clear the way for Cross, who, without a word, became the architect of the Yates family’s destruction.

It was a lesson in ambition—how far people would go to secure their spot at the top.

So the attackers’ top targets were Cross, then me.

I tried not to think about it, but the danger was always there.

Even with Eli protecting me, I wondered if we’d survive if General Yates’s son came for us.

I trusted Eli with my life, but even he had limits. Some ghosts are too powerful to outrun.

Beneath the calm, the city simmered. New Year’s Eve came under that same tension.

Fireworks exploded over the rooftops, the sky painted in reds and golds. But underneath, everyone was on edge.

Fireworks exploded, lighting up the night. I booked a private room at a bar and dragged Eli out for drinks. He couldn’t hold his liquor—half a bottle in, his face was flushed, hand on his forehead, eyes half-closed, the candlelight making him look almost dreamlike.

He looked so young then. Vulnerable. I almost reached out to touch his cheek, but stopped myself.

By now, Eli had been with me for nearly three years.

Three years of danger, secrets, and quiet companionship. I couldn’t imagine life without him.

He’d grown taller, features sharper, skills even better, his manner more composed.

He moved with a confidence that only comes from hard-won experience. I was proud of him, though I’d never say it out loud.

Out of his shadow uniform, with that sculpted face and innate grace, he could pass for a noble son—maybe even outshine them.

He had that effortless charm, the kind that made people stop and stare. I wondered if he even knew.

Like moonlight on a lake, clouds on a mountain—pure, beautiful, almost unreal.

Sometimes, I caught myself staring, forgetting where I was. It was dangerous, letting my guard down.

Chin in hand, I studied his face, my heart skipping a beat.

I tried to play it cool, but my cheeks burned. I hoped he didn’t notice.

I snapped out of it, shaking my head with a quiet laugh. What was I thinking?

It was foolish, letting myself feel anything. But I couldn’t help it.

Despite my resistance, I picked out a fine hunting knife to give Eli for New Year’s.

I spent hours choosing it, wanting it to be perfect. It was the least I could do, after all he’d done.

When he got it, his thanks couldn’t hide his joy. I looked up, and the heat in his eyes was impossible to miss.

For a second, I thought he might say something—something real. But he just smiled, tucking the knife away like it was the most precious thing in the world.

My heart skipped again.

I wondered if he felt it too—the pull between us.

For a moment, our awkwardness was tinged with a secret delight.

It was just for us. I wanted to hold onto it forever.

A few days later, that knife appeared in Cross’s hands.

The sight made my blood run cold. I knew what it meant—nothing was ever truly ours.

He’d taken it from Eli, and came to the Mayor’s house to show off.

He waved it in my face, smiling that cold, twisted smile. I wanted to snatch it back, but I didn’t dare.

His dark eyes glinted as he smiled. "It’s a fine blade."

His words were loaded, every syllable a challenge. I tried to keep my face blank.

"But," he continued, looking down on me, "Autumn, you shouldn’t let it gather dust."

I knew what he was really saying—nothing escapes his notice. Not even my secrets.

For a second, his eyes were dark and twisted, almost sickly and sinister.

I felt a chill run down my spine. Cross was dangerous, but this was something else.

He looked toward the door, where Eli was standing guard. "Make him leave you."

The words landed like a punch. I clenched my fists, forcing myself not to react.

His voice was gentle, but the smile was cold.

He could make anything sound like a threat. I hated him for it.

Following his gaze, I saw Eli outside, knife in hand, hair tied high, slim and upright. For a second, I felt a pang, then lowered my eyes, gripping my coffee mug. "Fine, I’ll make him leave."

I said it because I had to, not because I wanted to. My heart ached at the thought.

I wasn’t blind. The boy had grown up—still quiet, but his eyes burned with feeling. I couldn’t ignore him, no matter how hard I tried.

He was everywhere, in every thought. I tried to shut it out, but it was impossible.

Sometimes I wondered why—why would someone like him fall for someone like me?

I wasn’t the kind people loved. I was sharp, cold, dangerous. But he saw something in me, and I couldn’t understand why.

And me? Every night, my thoughts ran wild, torn between wanting and not daring to want.

I told myself it was weakness, that I couldn’t afford it. But the truth was, I wanted him more than anything.

I kept telling myself: it’s normal to have feelings, but for people with big ambitions, romance is a fatal weakness. Cut your losses while you can.

It was a lesson I’d learned the hard way. I couldn’t let myself forget it now.

Now, Cross was forcing my hand.

He always knew how to push my buttons, how to make me choose between what I wanted and what I needed.

Eli burst into my study, demanding to know why.

His voice was louder than I’d ever heard, anger and hurt in his eyes. It was the first time he’d ever questioned me.

It was the first time in three years he’d questioned me.

I was almost proud, even as my heart broke.

I didn’t look up, kept reading, and said coolly, "I don’t need you anymore."

The words tasted like ash. I hoped he wouldn’t believe them, but I couldn’t take them back.

He didn’t buy it. He leaned over my desk, staring at me, seeing right through me. "Who’s forcing you?"

He was too smart for his own good. I wished he wasn’t.

Faced with that clean, sculpted face, my heart thundered, but I forced a mocking smile.

It was the only defense I had left. If he saw the truth, everything would fall apart.

"Eli, it’s just me. I don’t need you anymore."

I said it again, hoping repetition would make it real. It didn’t.

I had his things thrown out. The staff pushed him out the door. I stood inside, hands in my sleeves, looking down at him.

It was cruel, but necessary. Or so I told myself.

The onlookers gossiped.

I could hear their whispers, feel their eyes. I wanted to scream at them to mind their business.

It was humiliating. I wanted him to remember, never come near again.

I thought if I made it painful enough, he’d stay away. But I was only hurting myself.

But I saw no anger on Eli’s face. He stood tall, looking up at me with confusion. His throat worked, but he said nothing, just bowed, picked up his scattered things, and left with dignity.

His silence hurt more than words. I watched him go, feeling emptier than ever.

He had a quiet nobility now, something that drew attention even in plain black clothes.

He didn’t need fancy clothes or a title. He was himself, and that was enough.

Compared to his composure, I felt like a petty villain.

I hated myself for it, but I couldn’t stop.

My chest tightened. I turned away, pretending not to care, unable to watch him go.

I bit my lip, fighting back tears. I wouldn’t let anyone see me cry—not even him.

Letting go hurt more than I thought.

I’d always thought I was strong, but this was something else.

Late that night, I heard a faint sound on the roof. I knew he was there.

He always came back, even when I told him not to. I pretended not to notice, but I listened for him every night.

I always knew.

It was a comfort, knowing he was out there. Even if I couldn’t see him, I felt safer.

Every night, he’d watch over my room for two hours, rain or shine, in silence.

I counted the minutes, waiting for his footsteps. It was the only way I could sleep.

I used to have nightmares, waking up crying. But with him there, I slept soundly.

He was my anchor, even when I pretended I didn’t need him.

Now, I sat up, fighting the urge to smile, and shouted, "Who’s up there?"

My voice was shaky, but I tried to sound stern. I wanted him to know I noticed.

There was a pause, then a soft sound as he left.

The silence that followed was worse than any nightmare. I hugged my knees, feeling the emptiness settle in.

I knew he was gone, but still went outside to check. The roof was empty in the dark.

The night air was cold, biting. I stood there a long time, hoping he’d come back.

For a moment, I wished he’d appear, look at me and say, "I’m not leaving."

But wishes are for kids. I was too old for that.

I laughed softly, the night wind stinging my eyes.

The sound was bitter, almost a sob. I wiped my face, pretending it was just the wind.

I, Autumn Langley, couldn’t afford to lose my mind.

I had to stay sharp, no matter how much it hurt.

After that, I stopped hiring bodyguards.

I told myself I didn’t need them, but the truth was, I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else taking his place.

City politics got even more dangerous. The Lieutenant Governor died, and the seat sat vacant for years.

The city felt like a powder keg, ready to blow. Every day brought new rumors, new threats.

Dad was busier than ever; I was swamped, running messages alone to The Oak Barrel Tavern. But over the years, I’d made plenty of enemies. One night, coming home late, they caught me off guard.

Should’ve known better than to let my guard down. But exhaustion makes fools of us all.

Under the bright moon, the street was cold and empty, red lanterns swaying, hardly anyone around.

The silence was eerie, broken only by distant dogs barking. I hurried, heart pounding.

Seeing the burly guys blocking my path, I didn’t hesitate—I ran.

Instinct took over. I darted down an alley, breath coming in short gasps.

The few passersby scattered, but the men quickly surrounded me, drawing blades without mercy.

No time to think, only react. I reached for my knife, but I was outnumbered.

I thought I’d die that night, but I didn’t—Eli saved me.

He appeared out of nowhere, a blur of motion. I barely registered his face before he was between me and the attackers.

In the chaos, he leaped from a rooftop, kicking aside an attacker, face blazing with fury like I’d never seen.

He fought like a man possessed, every move precise and deadly. The attackers didn’t stand a chance.

After the fight, he grabbed my hand, checking me over with a worried frown, voice low and tense.

His touch was gentle, but his eyes were wild with worry. I’d never seen him like this.

I stared at his hand gripping mine. He realized it too, let go fast, and bowed. "Forgive me."

He stepped back, putting space between us. But the damage was done—I couldn’t pretend I didn’t care.

He walked me home, keeping his distance, silent and cold the whole way.

The silence was heavy, full of things we couldn’t say. I wanted to reach out, but I was scared.

At the gate, he stopped. As I stepped inside, he called out, "Autumn."

His voice was soft, almost hesitant. It was the first time he’d ever called me by name.

His voice was deep and soft, carried by the night wind.

The moment stretched, fragile and precious.

I waited, but he said nothing more.

He just stood there, eyes shining in the moonlight, then turned and vanished into the shadows.

After that, whenever I went out, I’d catch glimpses of Eli watching over me from afar. He knew it was hopeless, but still protected me.

He was always there, just out of sight. I pretended not to notice, but it comforted me.

How could anyone be so foolish? And he was so smart—why do something so pointless?

I asked myself that every night, but never found an answer.

So one day, I went to a bar, booked a private room, and waited for Eli.

I knew he’d come—he always did. I waited, nerves jangling, rehearsing what I’d say.

Sure enough, a few hours later, he burst in, worried.

His eyes scanned the room, searching for threats. When he saw me, relief washed over his face.

Seeing me safe, he relaxed and turned to leave, but I called him back.

I couldn’t let him go—not this time.

Eli looked at me, eyes slowly brightening.

There was hope there, tentative and fragile. I wanted to reach out and hold it.

A breeze jingled the wind chimes at the window.

The sound was soft, almost musical. It made the moment feel suspended, outside of time.

I set down my glass, smoothed my skirt, and walked up to him, staring him down. "After all this time following me, what do you really want?"

I needed to hear him say it, needed to know I wasn’t alone in this.

His face changed, eyes dropping. Before I could think, he gently took my hand. I trembled, but he held on tight.

His touch was warm, grounding. I felt my resolve slipping.

Maybe because he had nothing, he was braver than most.

He had nothing left to lose—not even his pride.

He bowed his head, kissed the back of my hand, breath warm, lashes casting shadows on his pale face.

The gesture was old-fashioned, but it felt right. My heart ached, tears pricking my eyes.

My heart ached. My chest pounded, eyes filling with tears. We were so close, I wanted to throw myself into his arms, to hold him without restraint.

But I couldn’t.

Duty, fear, pride—they all held me back. I hated them for it.

"How dare you!"

My voice cracked, more plea than command. I wanted him to keep holding on.

I shut my eyes, yanked my hand away. My voice was hoarse, all authority gone.

I tried to pull myself together, but the tears wouldn’t stop.

After a long silence, Eli bowed slightly, met my eyes. "Autumn, let me protect you."

His words were a promise, a plea, a challenge all at once. I felt something inside me break.

His voice was soft but left no room for argument—he was done asking for my opinion.

He was claiming his place by my side, whether I liked it or not.

Maybe he sensed the danger I was in.

He always did. He was the only one who ever really saw me.

Funny, really—he was the one who’d once insisted on boundaries. Now he was the one crossing them.

The irony wasn’t lost on me. I almost laughed, even as my heart raced.

After that, I let Eli stay by my side.

It felt right, having him there. I didn’t want to question it.