Chapter 74 A Man in the Dark
“East wing corridor. We found more evidence. We’re following the trail.”
Static crackled in response, but another voice broke through “Copy. Proceed with caution. Unknown number of hostiles remain unaccounted for.”
Caelum lowered Casper’s wrist slowly, eyes narrowing. “Move. But stay sharp.”
They advanced deeper, leaving the hall’s faint noises behind. Every step felt like wading through invisible pressure, thickening the air, squeezing Deborah’s lungs.
The silence among them wasn’t empty, it pulsed with tension and fear the Valmeres refused to voice aloud.
Knight swept ahead, eyes scanning every corner. “There’s more blood here… someone was hit.”
“Is it his?” Deborah whispered.
Knight didn’t look back. “We don’t know yet.”
Lucio crouched again, studying the floor. “There’s a footprint drag marks. He resisted. Hard.”
Deborah’s nails dug into her palms. “Good,” she whispered viciously. “He wouldn’t go quietly.”
Caelum’s jaw clenched at that, pride and terror blending in his eyes.
They turned a corner.
The stairwell loomed ahead, dark and winding, emergency lights flickering like dying fireflies. The deeper levels were rarely used storage, mechanical rooms, service tunnels meant only for staff. Perfect hiding places.
Casper checked his tablet. “Maps show this level connects to the underground loading dock.”
“That’s an exit route,” Knight muttered. “Or a path to move a hostage.”
Deborah’s breath stuttered at the word hostage.
Her vision swam for a moment until Caelum’s hand pressed against her back, steadying her.
“You stay behind me,” he murmured.
“I know,” she whispered, though her voice shook.
They descended the stairs. With each step, the air grew more metallic, the scent of blood and gunpowder hanging heavier. The emergency lights overhead popped, one flickering violently before dying completely.
Darkness swallowed them.
For half a second, Deborah’s heart lurched into her throat. Knight clicked on a tactical flashlight, its beam slicing through the black. Lucio did the same.
Caelum tightened his grip on Deborah’s arm as though he knew she was starting to shake.
“Everyone stay close,” he ordered.
The lower hallway was worse, narrow, stripped of décor, and suffocatingly cold.
Then..... a metallic clang rang out in the distance.
Deborah flinched. Knight raised his gun instantly.
“Something’s ahead,” he murmured. “About thirty meters.”
Casper studied the floor. “Blood trail continues. Thicker now. Whoever they dragged was injured.”
Injured.
Deborah pressed a fist to her mouth, trying not to break. Caelum leaned close, whispering directly in her ear, “Do not assume the worst. Not until we see it.”
But she could hear the fear in even his voice.
They moved again.
The hallway widened into a small loading zone, dimly lit by a single flickering bulb. Broken crates lined the walls. A door hung halfway off its hinges, dented from a previous impact.
“Look,” Lucio murmured.
On the concrete floor was a smear of blood, fresh. And beside it… a fabric.
Deborah’s heart stopped. It was a piece of Lysander’s suit jacket.
Her knees nearly hit the floor, but Caelum caught her, pulling her close against his chest as his own breath trembled in fury.
“He fought,” Lucio said through clenched teeth. “He fought like....hell.”
Casper crouched and examined the fabric. “This tear pattern… someone grabbed him from behind. Probably blindside. He was overwhelmed.”
“By how many?” Knight asked.
Casper’s jaw tightened. “At least three.”
Deborah squeezed her eyes shut. “He was outnumbered.”
Caelum brushed his thumb across her shoulder, grounding her. “Lysander is smart. He knows how to survive.”
But the quiver in his breath betrayed him.
Suddenly, Knight lifted his hand sharply.
“Quiet.”
Footsteps. Fast. Rushed. Coming closer.
Caelum shoved Deborah behind him, gun raised. Lucio and Knight aimed toward the sound. Casper positioned at the side for crossfire.
Deborah held her breath. The footsteps grew louder.
A shadow darted into view. Knight lunged and pinned the figure against the wall with a forearm across the chest.
“OUGHH! DAMN BRO! WHAT THE FUCK?!”
The familiar voice shaken, rough, scraped raw hit them like a detonation.
Knight’s arm froze mid-movement. Lucio’s gun dropped a full inch, Casper almost lost grip of the radio, breath punching out of his lungs. Caelum turned slowly, like he didn’t trust his own ears.
And Deborah… Deborah felt the floor tilt under her.
Because the man Knight had pinned against the wall.....
Was Lysander.
But he didn’t look like Lysander.
He wasn’t the polished, annoyingly handsome heir she argued with this morning… He wasn’t the sunshine-bright brother who teased her over her dress…
He wasn’t the troublemaker with the lazy smirk and the soft heart.
This Lysander looked like he had crawled out of hell.
His entire left sleeve was soaked red. Blood streaked across his jaw, dried in chaotic patterns on his neck. His shirt was torn, hanging off one shoulder, exposing deep scratches and bruises. A welt covered half of his cheek, swelling into his eye. His hair was a mess, partly matted with sweat and dirt. His breaths were uneven, sharp, almost gasping.
He winced when Knight loosened his grip.
“Jesus! Lysander—” Knight stammered, stepping back like he was afraid to hurt him more.
Lucio swore under his breath. “Holy shit… Bro, what—what happened to you?”
Casper moved forward but froze halfway, eyes flickering with panic. “You’re bleeding everywhere.”
Caelum didn’t speak. He simply stared, stone-still, his jaw locked so hard a muscle twitched.
Deborah took a shaky step forward, her voice trembling. “Lysander…?”
But Lysander didn’t look at her. He didn’t look at any of them.
He stared past them, eyes unfocused, no, not unfocused… fixed. His blood-stained fingers twitched at his side as if he wanted to move but his body refused to cooperate.
“Lysander,” Caelum finally said, voice low, careful, controlled as if speaking to a wounded animal. “Hey. Look at me. What happened? Are you hurt?”
For the first time, Lysander swallowed, his throat bobbing painfully.
He still didn’t answer. Deborah’s heart cracked. “Lysander, please… just say somet—”
He lifted a trembling hand not toward her, not toward Caelum but toward something behind them.
A small, weak point shaking, barely steady but desperate.
All the brothers turned. And so did Deborah.
Her breath caught. Her eyes widened in horror.
Because in the dim corner of the loading zone, half-hidden behind broken crates and a toppled cart, a man was tied to a metal beam with industrial cable.
His face was a ruin of bruises. His clothes were shredded. Fresh blood dripped from his mouth.
One eye was swollen shut. His wrists were bound so tight the skin beneath was raw and blistered.
He looked like he’d been beaten within an inch of death.
Deborah’s hand flew to her mouth. Knight raised his gun instantly. “What the hell—”
Casper’s grip tightened around his flashlight. “This… this guy isn’t security. He’s not a guest. Who the fuck is he? I cant see clearly.”
Lucio stepped closer but stopped, analyzing every detail. Caelum’s voice dropped into a deadly murmur. “Lysander.”
He turned back to his brother. “Why is he here?”
Lysander finally blinked, slow and agonized. He met Caelum’s eyes for the first time.
And when he spoke, his voice was raspy, shredded, barely a whisper.
“He wasn’t the one who grabbed me. I was the one who grabbed him.”