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THE FORGOTTEN BLOODLINE / Chapter 8 / 10

Chapter 8 - The Shadow in the Mansion

The peace of the Vance estate was shattered three nights later.

A violent thunderstorm raged over Oakhaven, thunderclaps drowning out the sounds of the night. Arthur, who slept fitfully due to a lifetime of hyper-vigilance, suddenly woke up. The air in his room felt wrong. The faint scent of metallic ozone, distinct from the rain, drifted through the hallway.

Instinct screaming, Arthur leaped out of bed and rushed toward Mia’s adjoining room.

The door was ajar. Inside, a cloaked figure stood over Mia’s bed, a wicked, silver-plated syringe raised high in the air, glinting in the flash of lightning. The assassin wasn't there to kidnap her; they were there to harvest her blood, believing her genetic line held the key to synthesizing the balm.

"Get away from her!" Arthur roared.

He tackled the assassin just as the needle descended. The two men crashed into the heavy wooden nightstand, shattering it into splinters. The assassin was highly trained, moving with a fluid, lethal grace. A hidden blade flashed in the dark, slicing across Arthur’s forearm. Blood sprayed against the white wallpaper.

Despite the pain, Arthur’s raw, brute strength—forged from years of lifting heavy iron ore—overpowered the killer’s technique. He pinned the assassin to the floor, wrapping his massive hands around the man's throat.

"Who sent you?!" Arthur bellowed, his eyes wild with fury.

Before the assassin could answer, a loud bang echoed through the room. The assassin’s body went limp. Arthur looked up to see Evelyn standing at the doorway, leaning heavily against the frame for support, a smoking flintlock pistol held firmly in her trembling hands.

Mia sat up in bed, screaming in terror. Arthur ignored his bleeding arm, rushing to pull his daughter into his chest, holding her tight as she sobbed against his shoulder.

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Evelyn limped into the room, her face pale. She knelt down and pulled the mask off the dead assassin. Etched into the collar of his leather armor was the crest of the High Prosecutor’s private shadow guard.

"Sterling," Evelyn whispered, her voice shaking with a terrifying mixture of fear and absolute wrath. "He has crossed the line. He is trying to eliminate the evidence before the trial."

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