Page 65 of The Lucky Winners

The Watcher

The hillside looms, steep and silent. The damp earth slips beneath his feet, moss and rot thick in the air. Overhead, the light is fading fast, dusk becoming night.

He breathes in, breathes out.

His gaze stays fixed on what lies ahead – that pinnacle of perfection, the ostentatious prize. Perched on the hill like a trophy they do not deserve.

The floor-to-ceiling glass windows gleam, a mocking beacon against the fading day. The house they stole.

Inside, every bulb burns, as if the light alone can banish all of the shadows. The rooms are impossibly modern and stark – clean lines, white walls, polished steel. A place without history, without heart, without conscience.

Look at me! Look at me and what I stand for!

Greed and excess. A reward for betrayal and lies.

Behind him, the lake loops like a restless serpent. The hillside winds steep and treacherous, but his steps remain steady, his intention strong.

The air grows colder as he climbs, damp seeping through his clothes, into his skin. His fingers brush against solid metal in his pocket – the claw hammer’s weight, cold and familiar. The pulse in his temples stays even, his breath measured, as the house draws closer.

Through the glass, shadows shift. A figure moves inside, their back turned, oblivious.

His hand skims a low branch, slick with rain, the hammer’s weight pressing heavier with each step.

He reaches the door. Breath misting the air. Heart drumming slow and steady beneath the skin. One moment stretches into another, taut as a stretched wire.

He silently turns the stolen key as his fingers close around the door handle, cold and smooth beneath his grip.

One step. Two steps. Three steps. Four.

The light shifts inside.

And there she is.

Her head tilts, catching the glow of a pendant light, and for a heartbeat, she looks almost innocent.

But he knows better.

That face – the one that shattered everything.

The memory burns hot, twisting deep in his chest, until his knees threaten to buckle.

But he does not falter. He can’t.

Not now.