Page 7

Chapter 6

Seanna

It’s late by the time I pull up to my cabin, the engine softly rumbling to a stop, headlights slicing aggressively through the dense darkness, scattering shadows across the gravel driveway. I cut the engine and step out, boots crunching on gravel as the night air fills my lungs with its familiar blend of sharp pine and damp earth.

My eyes automatically drift toward Hydessa’s cabin. Dark again. Either she’s already deep into that undercover mission, or she’s out getting herself into something messy. A flicker of curiosity briefly surfaces—wondering just what trouble my careful, methodical sister might have found—but I brush it off immediately. Hydessa’s tougher than people think. Still, an uneasy prickling creeps down my spine, irritatingly persistent.

Halfway to my door, I freeze, muscles instantly coiled tight, eyes narrowing sharply. Resting innocently on my doorstep is a small, matte-black box. Neatly placed, unmistakably deliberate.

“Well, isn't this cute,” I murmur sarcastically, scanning the shadows. The surrounding trees whisper mockingly in the breeze, but otherwise offer nothing. If someone thinks leaving creepy packages is enough to frighten me, they're in for a rude awakening.

Cautiously, I approach, crouching down to inspect the box. No markings, no shipping labels—just pristine black cardboard with a crisp white envelope sitting precisely on top. Carefully crafted and unnerving.

I pick it up, testing its weight. Light but solid. No obvious threats inside. I let out a soft, humorless laugh. Whoever's playing games tonight clearly didn’t do their homework. I've built my entire life around chasing monsters—an anonymous box isn’t about to spook me.

Once I’m inside, I lock the door behind me out of habit and flick on the lamp, bathing my living room in warm amber tones.

Settling onto the couch, I set the box on the coffee table and slide the note from its envelope. My jaw tightens as I read the blunt, printed words:

I let out another cold laugh, tossing the note aside dismissively. Really? That's the best threat they could muster? I’ve gotten more intimidating notes from drunk idiots at bars. But my pulse quickens slightly—not from fear, but from the exhilaration of knowing I'm clearly closer to my target than ever.

Cautiously lifting the box lid, I'm half-expecting something grisly—some twisted token. Instead, resting on plush black velvet, is a single vibrant red flower. It’s unlike any flower I’ve ever seen—bright crimson petals arranged in graceful clusters, exuding an unsettling beauty. The delicate blossom looks freshly picked, as if someone took great care in choosing it specifically for me.

The sight startles me, making me frown slightly in confusion. A flower? Seriously? It doesn’t match the ominous vibe of the note at all. Are they trying to confuse me, or just being annoyingly cryptic?

I lift it gingerly, rolling the delicate woody stem between my fingertips. Its fragrance is faintly sweet. Whoever picked this out knows exactly what they're doing—trying to get under my skin.

I place the flower back into its velvet coffin, leaving the box open with a show of defiance. “Cute,” I mutter sarcastically, eyes narrowed. “But if this is your big play, you’ll have to do better.”

Before I can muse further, my phone buzzes harshly against the coffee table, shattering the silence. Glancing down, surprise flickers through me as Hydessa’s name flashes across the screen. It's late, unusual even for her, and given what Mom said earlier about her leaving for the undercover assignment, a flicker of concern hits me sharply.

Quickly, I move to the window facing her cabin, lifting the phone to my ear as I scan the dark expanse outside. My pulse jumps again when I see a light, faint but unmistakable in the darkness. Hydessa’s home—and something tells me this isn't just a casual check-in.

I answer immediately but wait, the silence stretching just a heartbeat before her quiet voice whispers the familiar words we've shared since childhood.

“If I hide…” Hydessa murmurs softly, her voice smaller, shakier than usual, carrying a heaviness that instantly tightens my chest.

“Then I’ll seek…” I reply automatically, my voice sharpening with protective concern. “Are you okay?”

She sighs deeply, hesitation clear when she finally answers. “No, I’m not,” she admits quietly. “I… I went to the club tonight.”

“The club?” My eyebrows rise in genuine surprise. Hydessa doesn’t do clubs. Crowds, noise, forced social interactions—not her scene at all. “Why?”

“I’m leaving on an investigation tomorrow,” she explains softly, vulnerability bleeding into her tone. “It was just… a distraction. I needed to escape, even if just for a moment.”

Her confession stabs deeper than I'd like, unsettling my usual cool exterior. I lean against the window frame, eyes narrowing in concern as they drift toward her cabin again.

“And did it help?” I prod gently, keeping my tone intentionally casual. “Pretending to be someone else for a while?”

“No,” she breathes, there is a bitterness there that makes my chest tighten. Quietly, she recounts an awkward encounter she had tonight—clearly meaningless, leaving her emptier than before. “It just made everything… worse. I feel so lost, Seanna.”

I let out a slow breath, my heart aching slightly for her. “You know I’m here for you, right?” I remind her gently. “Our parents already told me all about you heading out tomorrow. Maybe this investigation is exactly what you need.”

There’s a brief pause. “What do you mean?”

I chuckle softly, hoping to nudge her sadness away. “Think about it. It’s a small island, right? And you need to be discreet. When in Rome, as they say…” I trail off, smiling to myself. “Take the time to live a normal life for a little while. You’re technically on vacation, so act like it. Obviously, you’ll have to handle things your way at night, but still… you get my point.”

Silence follows. Finally, her voice softens. “Yeah, maybe you’re right,” she concedes quietly. “Thanks, Seanna.”

“Anytime,” I say warmly, allowing myself a relieved breath. “Now, get some rest. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

“I will,” she promises softly. “Goodnight.”

“Night, sis,” I murmur gently, ending the call.

Moving away from the window, I glance once more toward Hydessa’s cabin, the shadows of the tall pines looming protectively around it. A brief pang of worry passes through me, mingled with irritation. She’s stronger than she realizes, yet still so vulnerable sometimes. I shake my head slightly, reminding myself she’ll be fine. She always is.

My thoughts quickly shift back to the unwanted gift waiting on my coffee table. That damned flower still sits there, bold and disturbingly beautiful. Its vibrant petals and sweet-yet-sharp scent now seem pointedly sinister, an intentional contradiction to the blunt threat of the note. Someone wants me off-balance.

Too bad for them, that's never worked on me.

Driven by irritation and curiosity, I grab my phone again, quickly scrolling through my contacts until Uncle Max’s name appears. Without hesitation, I hit the video call button, needing his unique expertise to decode whatever cryptic game is being played tonight. Max answers after barely two rings.

His face appears instantly on the screen, illuminated by the harsh glow of multiple monitors behind him, casting stark blue and silver shadows across his features. As always, he looks more at home behind those screens than anywhere else.

“Do you ever sleep?” I ask dryly, lips quirking into a teasing smile. “Or have you just moved permanently into the Batcave and started mainlining caffeine intravenously?”

Max snorts, his mouth twitching into a fleeting, rare smile, though his eyes stay sharp, unreadable. “Sleep is overrated,” he responds flatly, leaning back slightly in his chair. “Besides, the criminals we chase rarely take a night off.”

“True,” I concede, studying him thoughtfully. Max has always been elusive, a mystery even within our tightly-knit organization. The sudden thought occurs to me that I’ve never really known anything about him beyond these walls even with how close he is to our parents. “Don’t you have a family to go home to?” I prod gently, half-curious, half-teasing.

Something flickers briefly in his gaze, a shadow crossing his face for just a second before it’s gone, carefully masked behind professionalism once again. He nods slowly, cryptically. “They understand,” he says quietly. “This work isn’t exactly safe, Seanna. Keeping them hidden ensures their protection.”

His admission surprises me, and I lean forward instinctively, eyes narrowing with intrigue. “You do have a family, huh? You’ve been holding out on me, Max.”

Max gives a subtle shake of his head, amusement fading quickly into seriousness. “There’s a reason I keep them hidden,” he repeats more firmly this time, the message clear: boundaries exist for a reason.

I exhale slowly, realizing no matter how curious I am, I won’t get anything else from him right now. “Fair enough,” I concede quietly, shifting gears to why I called. “I actually have a reason for bothering you this late. Someone left me a… present.”

At his questioning look, I angle my phone toward the table, carefully aiming the camera toward the red flower and note resting on the dark velvet. His expression instantly changes from mild curiosity to intense focus, eyes narrowing sharply as he leans closer to the screen.

He’s silent for a long moment, his eyes darting carefully over the vivid petals, his brows furrowing deeply in concern, adjusting his glasses as he leans closer.. I watch his reaction closely, an disconcerting feeling creeping along my spine at how intently he studies the bloom.

“Uncle Max?” I prompt softly, my voice tight. “Max?”

He blinks abruptly, shaking his head slightly as if trying to clear his thoughts. “Sorry,” he mutters, clearly rattled, though trying hard to mask it. “That caught me off guard.” He clears his throat, his voice dropping to a lower, more cautious tone. “That flower—it’s a rhododendron, Seanna.”

“A rhodo-what?” I raise a eyebrow. “English, please?”

I look again at the flower, its delicate beauty seemingly innocent. But Max’s reaction tells me there’s more to it.

“Rhododendron,” he emphasizes slowly, tension heavy in his voice. “Flowers aren’t chosen randomly. Every bloom has meaning. Someone picked this one deliberately, Seanna. A rhododendron symbolizes danger. Caution. It has a clear meaning and message: beware.”

My jaw tightens, irritation flaring. I glance back at the flower, the vibrant red petals now seeming sinister. “Great,” I drawl sarcastically. “So my secret admirer is a florist with a flair for drama. Should I be worried about touching it?”

His mouth tightens briefly before softening with a reluctant chuckle. “Touching it is fine, but I wouldn’t recommend randomly nibbling on it. Rhododendrons are poisonous when ingested. They can be deadly if consumed in large amounts.”

“Good to know,” I deadpan, rolling my eyes. “I’ll make sure not to toss it in my next salad.”

Max sighs, his expression solemn. “I’m serious, Seanna. Someone is sending you a direct warning. They’re watching you, and they don’t want you looking into whatever it is you’ve found. They chose that flower specifically to communicate that threat.”

A fierce, reckless smile curls at my lips. “Then they clearly don’t know me very well, do they?” I challenge quietly, adrenaline beginning to pump steadily through my veins. Threats have never deterred me—they only heighten my determination, sharpen my resolve.

Max stares at me silently for a moment before shaking his head slightly, resigned. He knows me well enough to understand that arguing caution is pointless. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

A wicked, defiant grin slowly curves my lips. “Careful has never been my style.”

“I've noticed,” Max mutters wryly, shaking his head. “Just promise you'll at least pretend to think before you act.”

“No promises,” I retort smoothly, smirking openly. “Thanks, Max. I owe you.”

“You owe me a lot,” he replies dryly, though affection softens his tone. “Stay alive, Seanna.”

I disconnect and lean back on the couch, eyes fixed defiantly on the flower still mocking me from its velvet coffin. Whoever delivered this clear-cut warning has drastically miscalculated if they think I'll back down from a fight. I've built my entire life around hunting monsters like Javier Reyes. Danger isn't a deterrent—it's my fuel.

Pushing off the couch, I place the flower and note purposefully on my desk, my own symbolic message that I'm far from intimidated.

Javier Reyes just showed his hand.

Big mistake.

Game fucking on.