Cursed Bonds - 2. Chapter 2: Shadows start lurking in Liam's life

Robert raced up the stairs, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, each step pounding beneath his feet like the echo of a war drum. He was a man in his early 50s, yet he looked no older than 40—handsome, with a square jaw and intense eyes that seemed to pierce through the darkness around him. His short hair, with just a touch of grey at the temples, added an air of distinguished maturity rather than age. His face was set in a serious, almost stern expression, the lines around his eyes deepening as he reached the top of the stairs.

Dressed in a crisp white shirt, its sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and dark slacks, he cut a figure of authority, his chest rising and falling with the effort of his hurried ascent. The tie around his neck was loosened, and his collar slightly askew, giving away the tension that rippled through his body. His polished black shoes barely made a sound on the plush carpet as he strode down the hallway, his mind racing faster than his legs could carry him.

Finally, he reached the room, a sanctuary of warmth and calm that seemed worlds apart from the turmoil raging within him. His eyes fell upon his son, lying on the bed, his chest gently rising and falling in sleep. Viola, his beautiful wife, sat by the bedside, her eyes dark and full of worry as they met his. She was poised, her hand resting on the bed, but there was a tension in her posture that he hadn’t seen before.

He stormed into the room, his voice low and tight with barely restrained anger.

“What the hell is going on, Viola?”

Viola rose slowly from the chair, her movements graceful despite the weight of the words she had to deliver. She looked at her husband, but his eyes were locked on their son, taking in every detail of his sleeping face. When he finally tore his gaze away and looked at her again, there was a demand in his eyes, a need for answers.

She hesitated, her lips pressing together before she finally spoke. “Liam... he was molested.”

His eyes widened, the words hitting him like a physical blow. He stared at her, then back at his son, his fists clenching at his sides until his knuckles turned white. Anger surged through him, hot and unyielding, as the room seemed to shrink around him.

“How did this happen?” he asked, his voice a growl.

Viola sighed, the sound heavy with sorrow.

“Liam went to a club last night. When he came back, he was a mess. He told me... he told me someone raped him in the woods.”

His vision blurred with fury as his mind filled with images he didn’t want to see. His fists clenched tighter as he felt the heat rising in his head, his pulse pounding in his ears.

“We’ve already filed a report,” Viola continued, her voice steady but pained. “The doctor came to examine him. He has some injuries, but nothing too serious.”

He looked at his wife, the anger in his eyes barely contained. The room was thick with unspoken emotions, but before he could respond, a soft voice broke through the tension.

“Dad...”

Liam was waking, his voice weak as he called out to his father. The sound snapped him out of his rage, his heart twisting at the sight of his son’s pale face. But the anger was still there, burning beneath the surface, as he turned to his son with a harsh question.

“What the hell were you doing at the club, Liam?”

Liam stared at his father, his eyes wide and filled with pain, a single tear slipping down his cheek. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could form a word, Robert snapped again, his voice harsh and cutting through the air like a knife.

“What were you thinking, Liam?” Robert’s voice was loud, sharp, making Liam flinch and almost rise from the bed in fright.

Viola, who had been watching in stunned silence, suddenly found her voice.

“Robert! What are you doing, shouting at him like this after everything he’s been through?” Her voice trembled with a mix of shock and anger, her eyes wide as she stared at her husband, unable to comprehend the harshness of his tone.

“What am I supposed to do, Viola?” Robert shot back, his voice laced with sarcasm and frustration. “Applaud him for being so careless?”

“How can you say that?” Viola’s voice was low, filled with a deep, simmering anger. She shook her head, her disbelief evident. “He needs your support right now, more than anything. He’s been through something horrific, and you’re throwing questions at him like this?”

Robert turned to her, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and something darker, something that had been festering for years.

“Support him? Viola, Liam has done nothing but try to embarrass me from the moment he was young. What made him go to such a useless club in the first place, instead of staying at home like he was supposed to?”

He was pacing now, his anger spilling over as he continued.

“And now the news is going to be plastered with headlines: ‘Liam Jones, son of famous hotelier, molested in a club.’ How do you think that’s going to affect my business?”

Liam’s tears fell freely now, his face a portrait of despair as he looked at his father, the man who was supposed to protect him, now throwing accusations and blame. Each word felt like a blow, pushing him further into a darkness he didn’t know how to escape from.

Viola moved closer to the bed, her heart breaking at the sight of her son’s anguish.

“Robert, stop this. This isn’t about your business or your reputation. This is about Liam, about our son. He needs us right now, not our anger.”

But Robert’s gaze remained hard, his fists still clenched, his mind wrapped around his own sense of betrayal and fear, unable to see the pain he was inflicting on the very person he should have been comforting.

Robert’s eyes burned with anger as he looked at Liam, his voice sharp and unyielding. “I didn’t take you to that useless club, Liam. And I’m not going to let you ruin everything I’ve worked for.”

Liam sobbed, his body trembling as he stared at his father, disbelief and hurt etched across his face. “You didn’t waste any time, did you?” His voice cracked, his pain spilling out in every word. “You didn’t waste any time reminding me of what a disappointment I am, even when I’m not in the wrong. I get blamed for it.”

He paused, his tears flowing freely, his chest heaving as he tried to gather the strength to say what he had kept buried for so long. “I know what happened hurt you, but was it my fault that Mom died giving birth to me?” His voice was a broken whisper, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the room.

Robert’s chest rose and fell with the force of his anger, but he didn’t back down, his silence a wall between them. He had never been able to shake the bitterness that had taken root in his heart the day his wife, the love of his life, had died bringing Liam into the world. That bitterness had shaped every interaction between them, turning what should have been love into something twisted and unrecognizable.

Liam’s heart ached with the knowledge that his father’s hatred stemmed from something he could never change, something he had no control over. The pain of knowing that his father blamed him for his mother’s death was a burden he had carried his entire life, a weight that pressed down on him, suffocating him.

But now, in this moment, he needed his father more than ever. “Dad, I need you,” he pleaded, his voice raw with desperation. “I need your support, your help, more than ever.”

Robert stared at him, his expression unreadable, the anger in his eyes slowly giving way to something else—something that Liam couldn’t quite place. But the silence between them remained, thick and suffocating.

Viola, her eyes brimming with tears, moved closer to the bed. She couldn’t bear to see her son in such pain, nor could she stand the coldness that emanated from her husband. She sat beside Liam, wrapping her arms around him, pulling him close to her chest. “It’s okay, Liam,” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. “I’m here. I’m here.”

Liam buried his face in her shoulder, his sobs muffled against her as he clung to her, feeling the warmth and comfort that had always been absent from his father. Viola’s embrace was the only thing holding him together, the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely.

Liam sobbed into Viola’s shoulder, his tears soaking through her blouse as she held him close. His body shook with the force of his anguish, and Viola’s heart broke for him. She gently stroked his hair, murmuring soft words of comfort, but nothing seemed to soothe the deep pain that radiated from him.

In a fit of frustration, Robert stormed out of the room, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway. The door slammed behind him, leaving Viola and Liam alone in the thick silence that followed.

Viola continued to cradle Liam, her arms wrapped tightly around him, but he was inconsolable. His sobs grew louder, more desperate, as the weight of everything that had happened bore down on him. He felt as though the walls were closing in, the darkness suffocating him. The pain of the assault and the cruel words from his father twisted inside him, making him feel like he shouldn’t have survived, like he didn’t deserve to.

Viola pulled back slightly, cupping his tear-streaked cheeks in her hands.

“Liam, listen to me,” she said, her voice firm but tender. “It’s going to be okay. I promise you, it’s going to be okay.”

But Liam shook his head, fresh tears spilling over as he tried to speak.

“Mom, I...”

She placed a finger gently against his lips, shushing him softly.

“No, don’t talk. Just listen. I’m not going to let this go. Whoever did this to you, they’re going to pay. I’ll make sure of it.”

Liam’s lip trembled as he tried to hold back the flood of emotions, but it was no use. The dam broke, and he collapsed into her arms, crying so hard that it felt like he would never stop. Viola held him close, rocking him gently, her own tears falling silently as she tried to be strong for him. The pain in his cries tore at her, but she didn’t let go, knowing that right now, he needed her strength more than anything.

She wished she could take away his pain, could make him believe that everything would truly be alright. But all she could do was hold him, whispering words of comfort, and promise that she would be there for him, no matter what.

***

Lucas sat on the edge of his bed, his eyes vacant, staring at a spot on the floor that didn’t really exist. His breath came in shallow gasps as the memories of the night seeped into his consciousness, dragging him into a suffocating abyss of guilt and self-loathing. How could he have let this happen? The thought echoed relentlessly in his mind. He felt as though his chest was caving in under the weight of his actions, and the realization that yet another life had been snuffed out because of him made bile rise in his throat.

He hated himself even more now. Every fiber of his being recoiled at the image of the person he had become. How had it come to this? How had he allowed himself to spiral so far out of control? His heart pounded violently in his chest, a frenetic rhythm that matched the terror coursing through his veins. Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision before they spilled down his cheeks in hot, silent streams. His whole body trembled, the tremors overtaking him until he could barely breathe. He wrapped his arms tightly around his legs, pulling them close in a futile attempt to hold himself together.

Then, the door creaked open. Lucas didn’t have the strength to look up. He heard the soft rustle of fabric, the careful steps, and then the clink of a tray being set down on the bedside table. The scent of freshly cooked food wafted through the room, but it did nothing to stir his appetite.

“Lucas,” his mother’s voice came, gentle and warm. Rosa had a smile on her face, but it faltered when she saw his tear-streaked cheeks. She pretended not to notice, her heart aching for her son. “I brought you something to eat. Your favorite—chicken soup and warm bread.”

Lucas quickly rubbed at his tears, turning his face away from her. He couldn’t bear to see the concern in her eyes, the love that he felt he didn’t deserve. His voice, when he finally managed to speak, was barely a whisper, rough and thick with emotion.

“I’m not hungry.”

Rosa sighed, a quiet sound of exasperation laced with maternal worry. She moved closer, sitting down on the bed beside him. Her hand found his shoulder, squeezing gently as if to transfer some of her strength to him.

“You didn’t have breakfast, and it’s already afternoon. I can’t let my beautiful son starve.”

That word—beautiful—cut through him like a knife. How could she still see beauty in him after what he had done? How could she continue to pretend that he was someone worth loving?

A surge of anger, fueled by pain and self-hatred, burst forth from him. He pulled away from her touch, standing abruptly and moving across the room to put distance between them. His eyes, red and raw, locked onto hers, and for a moment, she saw a flash of the little boy he used to be—the boy she had raised, loved, and protected.

“How long are you going to keep pretending?” Lucas’s voice was thick with bitterness. “Pretending that I’m this innocent person, this… this beautiful son of yours, when you know I’m a monster! A killer… a murderer!”

Rosa was taken aback, her eyes widening with shock at the force of his words. The tray of food wobbled slightly on the bedside table, but she didn’t move. She was too stunned by the anguish pouring out of her son, by the depth of his despair. She had known he was struggling, but she hadn’t realized just how deeply the darkness had taken root.

For a moment, she was speechless, her heart breaking as she looked at him. The pain in his eyes was almost unbearable to witness. Her instinct was to reach out, to pull him into her arms and assure him that he wasn’t alone, that he wasn’t the monster he believed himself to be. But she knew that words alone couldn’t heal the wounds that festered inside him.

“Lucas…” she began, her voice trembling with the effort to stay calm, “You are not a monster. You’re my son, and I love you more than anything in this world. What happened… we’ll get through it, together.”

But Lucas just shook his head, his face contorted in agony. “You don’t understand, Mom… I don’t even know how it happened. But it’s my fault… it’s all my fault.”

Rosa stood slowly, crossing the room to him. She reached out, but stopped just short of touching him, respecting the space he had put between them.

“I don’t know what happened, Lucas. But what I do know is that you’re hurting, and you don’t have to go through this alone. Please, let me help you.”

Lucas’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he wavered. But the guilt was too overwhelming, too consuming. He took a step back, shaking his head as if to shake off her words, the comfort she offered.

“I can’t… I just can’t…” His voice cracked, and he turned away from her, the tears falling freely again.

Rosa swallowed hard, suppressing the tears that threatened to spill. She couldn’t afford to break down, not now, not in front of him. Her voice was steady, but just barely, as she spoke. "Lucas, I don’t know exactly what you’re going through, but—"

Before she could finish, Lucas erupted, his voice raw and desperate. "No, Mom! You don’t understand, and no one ever will!" His hands clenched into fists, his whole body shaking with the intensity of his emotions. "Maybe I just need to end it all… maybe then everyone could live in peace."

Rosa shook her head vehemently, the words catching in her throat as she tried to find something—anything—to say that would reach him. But before she could speak, the door to Lucas’s room opened, and Will, his best friend, appeared. He was grinning, clearly having expected to walk into a normal afternoon, but his smile faltered as he took in the scene before him.

“Hey, what’s going…” Will’s question died on his lips as he saw the distress etched on both of their faces. Rosa’s tear-filled eyes met his, and she quickly wiped at them, trying to compose herself.

“It’s Lucas…” she managed to say, her voice trembling with the effort to stay calm. “He’s… he’s talking about ending it all, about inflicting pain on us by… by killing himself.”

The shock on Will’s face was immediate and unmasked. His eyes widened, and for a moment, he was completely still, as if the weight of her words had frozen him in place. Then, slowly, he raised his hands, palms out, as if trying to calm an invisible storm. His expression was one of disbelief, a silent ‘dude, what the hell?’ hanging in the air.

But no words came out. He didn’t know what to say, how to respond to something so heavy, so terrifying. The weight of the situation pressed down on him, and he felt a chill run down his spine.

Rosa, sensing his uncertainty, took a deep breath, steadying herself as best she could.

“Will, maybe… maybe you can talk to him. He needs someone right now, someone who can reach him…”

Will nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Lucas’s face. His friend was a mess, a shadow of the person he had known. It scared him to see Lucas like this, so broken, so consumed by darkness. But he couldn’t let that fear stop him. He had to try, had to say something, anything, to bring Lucas back from the edge.

“Lucas…” Will’s voice was soft but firm, filled with a determination that masked his own fear. He took a tentative step into the room, closing the door behind him, shutting out the world so that it was just the three of them, caught in this moment of raw, painful truth. “Talk to me, man. Tell me what’s going on.”

Lucas didn’t look at him, his eyes fixed on the floor, on the thoughts swirling in his head. But Will didn’t give up. He took another step closer, his hands still out, like he was approaching a wild animal that might bolt at any moment.

“We’ve been through a lot, Lucas. You and me. And I’m not going to let you do this alone. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. Just… just talk to me.”

Lucas’s soft sobs filled the room, the sound fragile and broken. Slowly, he raised his head, his tear-filled eyes meeting Will’s. There was a deep weariness in his gaze, the kind that spoke of a soul that had been battered and bruised one too many times.

“Will… I’m tired of living like this,” he began, his voice trembling. “Even when I’m not trying to do anything, I always end up in bad situations. I don’t know how… I don’t know why…”

He paused, his throat tightening as he struggled to find the words. When he finally spoke again, his voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Last night… I hurt someone. I didn’t mean to… I don’t even remember what happened. But I woke up and found myself on top of someone… I didn’t know what I was doing, but… I molested them, Will. And they… they died because of me.”

Will’s face went pale, the color draining away as if the blood had suddenly frozen in his veins. His eyes widened in shock, the disbelief and horror evident in every line of his face. He stared at Lucas, his mind reeling, struggling to process what he had just heard. His breath came out in harsh, ragged gasps, the shock of Lucas’s confession hitting him like a physical blow.

“Lucas… are you saying…?” His voice was unsteady, a mix of disbelief and fear. “Are you saying it was you… that you raped someone in the woods?”

His words hung heavy in the air, the reality of the situation sinking in, suffocating them both. Will’s hands shook slightly as he tried to grasp the enormity of what his best friend had just admitted.

“How… how did that happen?”

Lucas didn’t answer immediately. His legs gave out beneath him, and he dropped to his knees, his body racked with silent sobs. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Will’s gaze anymore. The shame was too overwhelming.

“I don’t know, Will… I don’t know how it happened.” His voice cracked, the pain in his words cutting through the silence like a knife. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want to…”

There was a long, heavy silence between them, the weight of Lucas’s confession pressing down on them like a storm cloud. Will’s mind raced, his thoughts a jumbled mess as he tried to make sense of what he had just heard.

After what felt like an eternity, Will finally spoke again, his voice quieter, almost as if he was afraid of the words themselves.

“There… there were rumors going around. People were saying someone had been molested in the woods, but… no one knew who it was. They couldn’t find the person.” He hesitated, the confusion and fear clear in his eyes. “The people who helped… they didn’t know who it was.”

Rosa’s breath caught in her throat as the gravity of what Will had said began to sink in. Her mind raced, trying to process the implications, but it felt like everything was moving in slow motion. She turned to Will, her voice shaking. "Will… what do you mean by the people who had helped the boy? Are you saying… are you saying he’s still alive?"

The room fell into a heavy silence, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Will hesitated, his eyes flicking between Lucas and Rosa, as if weighing the impact of his words before he spoke. After what felt like an eternity, he gave a small, hesitant nod. “Yeah… the people who helped him said he was hurt, but he was okay.”

The shock in the room was palpable, a wave that crashed over all of them. Lucas’s cries stopped abruptly, his breath catching as he stared at Will, disbelief and confusion warring in his gaze. He looked like he had been struck by lightning, frozen in place, unable to comprehend what he had just heard.

Rosa’s eyes were wide, her mind reeling. “That’s… that’s impossible," she stammered, her voice barely audible. "Lucas, you…”

But Lucas cut her off, his voice harsh, edged with desperation. “He’s just trying to make me feel better. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Will quickly shook his head, the urgency in his movements making his intentions clear. “No, Lucas, I’m not lying.” He fumbled for his phone, his fingers trembling slightly as he navigated to the video he had taken the previous night. “Here… look at this.”

He pressed play, and the room was filled with the shaky footage of a group of people gathered in the dim light of the night. The camera panned over a few concerned faces, and then someone was explaining, their voice full of worry and relief, about a weak and hurt boy they had found in the woods. The boy had been too weak to explain much, but he had told them enough for them to understand he had been through something terrible.

Lucas watched in stunned silence, his eyes glued to the screen. The reality of what he was seeing, what Will was showing him, slowly began to take root in his mind. The tension in the room shifted, the suffocating despair giving way to something different—something almost like hope, but tinged with disbelief.

The door to Lucas’s room creaked open, and Ben stepped inside, his brow furrowed with concern. He barely had time to take in the tense atmosphere before Rosa rushed to him, tears streaming down her face. She grabbed the front of his shirt, her grip desperate, her eyes wild with a mixture of fear and hope.

“Ben, he’s alive!” she cried, her voice breaking with emotion.

Ben's heart skipped a beat, shock and confusion clouding his features. “What are you talking about, Rosa? Who’s alive?”

“The boy from last night!” she sobbed, the relief in her voice palpable. “He’s alive, Ben! He survived!”

Ben's face drained of color, his eyes widening in disbelief. “That’s… that’s not possible.” His voice was hushed, filled with a creeping dread. “No one who’s come in contact with Lucas has ever survived. How could that be?”

Rosa nodded fervently, her eyes pleading with him to understand.

“It’s true, Ben. Will has proof… a video of the people who helped him.” She paused, her voice dropping to a whisper as she clung to him. “Remember what the priest said? He told us that only time would reveal when someone with strong enough powers would break the curse.”

Ben's mind raced, the weight of her words sinking in. The curse that had hung over their family for so long, the curse that had taken so much from them—could it really be broken? His eyes widened as the possibility took hold, and he turned to Will with a sudden, fierce intensity.

“Where is he, Will?” Ben demanded, his voice urgent. “Where’s the boy? We need to find him as soon as possible.”

Will hesitated, caught off guard by Robert’s sudden intensity. “I… I don’t know exactly. He left in a cab last night. But I can ask around, see if anyone knows where he went.”

Ben's jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with determination.

“We don’t have any time to waste. We’re going to the club to find out whatever we can.” He looked at Rosa, who nodded in agreement, still clutching his shirt as if afraid to let go.

Without another word, they moved swiftly, a sense of urgency propelling them forward. Lucas, still reeling from the shock of what he had just heard, was pulled along in their wake. The room, once suffocating with despair, now hummed with a nervous energy, as they all rushed out, the door closing behind them with a decisive click. They were on a mission now, driven by the hope that maybe—just maybe—their nightmare was finally coming to an end.

***

Liam stood on the edge of a cliff, the wind howling around him, tugging at his clothes and hair with an almost unnatural force. The night was lonely and cold, the kind of night that seemed to stretch out endlessly, swallowing up all sense of time. The sky above was a deep, inky black, the stars obscured by thick clouds that moved like shadowy phantoms across the heavens. An eerie feeling crept over him, the sensation of being watched, of something lurking just out of sight, something that had surrounded him, unseen but palpable.

His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears as he looked around, his eyes wide with fear. There was nothing—no sign of life, no movement except for the relentless wind—but the feeling persisted, gnawing at the edges of his sanity. His body trembled, not just from the cold, but from the deep, primal fear that had taken hold of him.

Suddenly, the wind carried with it a chilling whisper, a voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. "He’s mine," it hissed, the words snaking their way into his mind, sending shivers down his spine. Liam’s breath caught in his throat, and he tried to speak, to scream, but no sound came out. His breaths were shallow and shaky, his lungs struggling to draw in the cold air.

Then, he felt it—a presence behind him, something dark and malevolent, its gaze burning into his back. The air around him grew colder, the chill seeping into his bones. He wanted to run, to escape whatever was there, but he was rooted to the spot, paralyzed by fear.

A voice, low and icy, cut through the night. "You’re going to die."

Liam’s heart lurched, and he slowly, agonizingly, turned around. But before he could see anything, a hand shot out from the darkness, cold and unyielding, gripping his neck with a terrifying strength. The world spun, his vision dimming as the fear took over completely.

And then, he woke up.

Liam bolted upright in bed, his body drenched in sweat, his breath coming in short, frantic gasps as if he had been running for his life. His heart raced, hammering against his ribs like it was trying to break free. He looked around the room, his eyes wide and wild, the remnants of the nightmare still clinging to him like a suffocating blanket.

The room was silent, too silent, the kind of silence that pressed down on him, amplifying every tiny sound—the rustle of the sheets, the creak of the floorboards, the distant hum of the wind outside. As he sat there, trying to calm his ragged breaths, something caught his eye—a dark shadow on the wall, looming ominously in the dim light.

At first, he wanted to believe it was just his own shadow, a trick of the mind born from the terror of the dream. But as he looked closer, he realized with a growing sense of dread that it wasn’t his shadow at all. The figure on the wall was tall, its form distorted and unnatural, the hair wild and blowing as if caught in a violent storm, like the branches of a tree thrashing in the wind.

Fear surged through him again, a cold, suffocating wave. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the image to disappear, praying that it was just a lingering hallucination from the nightmare.

When he finally mustered the courage to open his eyes, the shadow was gone.

Liam rubbed the sweat off his forehead, his hand trembling slightly.

“I’m officially going crazy,” he muttered to himself, the words hanging in the still air.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of anxiety swirling inside him, and rose from the bed. He needed to shake off the remnants of the nightmare, to find something real and tangible to ground himself.

Changing into simple t-shirt and sweatpants, Liam decided to go outside and get some air. The late afternoon sun was sinking toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the grounds of his mansion. The sky was streaked with shades of orange and pink, the kind of sunset that made everything look soft and golden.

He stepped into the garden, taking in the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the gentle sound of water splashing in the fountain. The garden was beautiful, a small oasis of calm and color, but Liam’s mind was elsewhere. He walked slowly, trying to focus on the vibrant reds and purples of the flowers, the intricate design of the fountain. He needed to forget, even if just for a moment, about the darkness that had been haunting him.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice the sleek, black car that had entered the driveway of the mansion. It wasn’t until the car parked near where he was that Liam finally looked up, his attention drawn by the sound of the engine shutting off.

The man who stepped out of the car was striking, a figure that demanded attention. He was tall and muscular, with broad shoulders and a presence that was both commanding and confident. His chiseled features were handsome, his jawline sharp, and his skin tanned as if he spent much of his time outdoors. He wore a tailored suit that fit him perfectly, accentuating his strong, athletic build. As he closed the car door with a smooth, practiced motion, his eyes met Liam’s.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Liam stared at the man, a sense of familiarity tugging at the edges of his mind. There was something about him, something that Liam couldn’t quite place, but it was there, an echo of recognition, like a half-forgotten memory.

But for Lucas, the sight of Liam struck a deep chord of fear in his soul. His confident stride faltered for a split second, his eyes widening ever so slightly as he took in the sight of Liam standing in the garden. The fear was sudden and visceral, creeping up his spine like cold fingers, reminding him of everything he had been running from. It was time to face his fears…

To be continued…