2025-04-27 17:12:50
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The shadow in the hospital The honeymoon
The air was cool, but dark clouds hung low, warning of a storm. The first raindrops hit the windshield, then came the downpour. Walker switched on the wipers, gripping the wheel as the road blurred beneath the hammering rain. Nothing could ruin this day. He and his wife, Elizabeth, were finally heading to Paris for their honeymoon. “This is going to be the best day of my life,” Elizabeth said, reaching over to stroke his beard before pressing a soft kiss on his cheek. “Oh yeah?” he grinned, keeping his eyes on the road. “I’ve never been to Paris,” she murmured, staring out the window with a dreamy smile. “Neither have I,” he admitted, glancing at her. “I can’t wait to see the Eiffel Tower. It’s so beautiful in pictures.” Walker raised an eyebrow. “Seen it with some ex-boyfriend?” She laughed, swatting his arm. “No! My friend from Romania went on a business trip and sent me pictures.” “Uh-huh,” he teased, reaching over to nudge her. “Bet he’s handsome.” Elizabeth rolled her e
The shadow in the hospital Strange
"Hold on, Lizzy. I see it! We’re gonna make it!” Walker’s voice wavered, but he forced confidence into it. His legs trembled beneath Elizabeth’s weight, his breath ragged. The light ahead belonged to an old hospital—if it could still be called that. The building loomed in the darkness, its walls cracked and worn, windows shattered like forgotten memories. Peeling paint curled from the surface like dead skin. But Walker didn’t care. Help was inside. It had to be. He stumbled forward, nearly collapsing against the rusted barbed wire fence surrounding the hospital. His strength was gone, his arms numb, but he held on—held onto her. “Help! Somebody, please!” he screamed, his voice raw. Silence. Rain dripped from the eaves, the only sound in the empty night. Then— A faint groan. Walker’s heart lurched. He almost dropped Elizabeth in shock. It was the first sound she’d made in over an hour. “Lizzy?” His grip tightened. “Did you hear me? We’re here, baby! Stay with me!” No respon
The shadow in the hospital Something is wrong
Walker stood in the long line, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. Every breath he took felt heavier. His bruises throbbed, his limbs ached, and his mind was on the verge of shutting down. But he couldn’t afford to rest. His eyes darted around, scanning the nurses moving between counters. The place felt too quiet. Too controlled. He clenched his fists, trying to stay focused. He needed a patient card for Elizabeth—nothing else mattered. Then, just as it was almost his turn, a nurse in white scrubs walked briskly to the counter. She leaned in and whispered something to the nurse handing out cards. She glanced at him. Walker’s stomach twisted. The counter nurse nodded, and without hesitation, she waved him forward. “Sir, please come here,” she called out. Walker hesitated. Why was he being pulled out of line? He glanced behind him. The other people waiting exchanged murmurs, their eyes narrowing in quiet disapproval. “Don’t worry about them,” the nurse said, her voic
The shadow in the hospital The Doctor
Walker sat by Elizabeth’s side, gripping her hand as if letting go would shatter her completely. Her fingers trembled weakly in his grasp. Her lips parted, but her voice barely emerged. "They… they’re hiding… something…" Walker stiffened. "What?" he whispered, leaning in. "Lizzy, what are you talking about?" Her breath was shallow, her gaze unfocused yet terrified. Dr. Graham adjusted one of the machines, his movements precise—too precise. Walker’s eyes snapped to him. "What is she talking about?" Dr. Graham smiled, but it felt… wrong. Too measured. Rehearsed. "She’s disoriented," he said smoothly. "Not uncommon after severe blood loss." Walker’s grip tightened on Elizabeth’s hand. She wasn’t just delirious. She was afraid. Dr. Graham’s voice cut through his thoughts. "Your wife is unstable, but we’re doing everything we can." Then why did it feel like a bad dream? Nothing added up. "Stress can make things seem worse than they are," Dr. Graham continued, his tone too sooth
The shadow in the hospital Things not normal
Two days ago, he was a husband excited for the future. Now, he was a man trapped in a hospital filled with secrets. “Take this form and fill the rest of it,” Dr. Graham said, handing him a clipboard. “And sign here first.” Walker hesitated before taking the pen. The way Dr. Graham’s gaze lingered on him sent an uneasy chill down his spine. Something about the doctor’s demeanor felt too controlled—like he was carefully curating his every word and movement. Walker scrawled his signature. “Once you’re done, submit it to the nurse at the counter,” Dr. Graham added before storming off toward his office without another word. Walker’s gut twisted as he watched him disappear through a restricted door marked AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. For a fleeting moment, the door remained slightly ajar, revealing a dimly lit hallway beyond. Walker swore he saw someone—a shadowy figure standing just out of sight. But before he could process it, the door clicked shut. Something was definitely wrong wit
The shadow in the hospital Spying
Walker was in a trance. The world around him blurred, fading into something nightmarish. He stood frozen, watching in horror as Dr. Graham, the esteemed surgeon, cut into his wife’s belly. The scalpel gleamed under the surgical light, slicing through skin with eerie precision. Then—something unnatural happened. The doctor reached inside and pulled out a grotesque, pulsing mass, slipping it into a small, black box. Walker tried to scream. Tried to move. But he was locked behind a door, the small 15 by 15 centimeter window his only view into this twisted reality. He pounded on the glass, his breath fogging it up, but no one turned. No one heard him. The air reeked of antiseptic, but underneath, something foul seeped in—a scent he couldn’t name, something rotting beneath the surface of this hospital. Then— the vision shattered. Walker gasped, jolting awake, drenched in sweat. His pulse pounded against his skull like a hammer. It was just a trance. A nightmare. But it felt too real.
The shadow in the hospital Erased Lives, Hidden Truths
Walker wasn’t surprised by the shift in their demeanor.They had seen him.And now, they would do everything in their power to silence him.A nurse—one he didn’t recognize—stood at the counter, her gaze cold and detached."Sir, may I know who you are?"The question sent a chill through him. They were pretending he didn’t exist.He forced a smile, though his nerves were unraveling. “I’ve been here since last night. This is my card. But…why are you asking?”She barely looked at it. “Sir, if you don’t adhere to hospital policy, I suggest you leave.”Walker gritted his teeth. “You should know me. I brought in a woman last night. My wife—Elizabeth.”For the first time, her expression shifted. A slight furrow of her brow. Then, as if catching herself, she straightened and dismissed him."Next in line."A woman pushed past him, stepping up to the counter. Her features were unsettling—deeply sunken eyes, heavy lids nearly concealing her pupils. She had the look of someone who had seen too muc
The shadow in the hospital Vanishing point
He turned on his heels and walked out, keeping his pace steady. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing his fear. But outside, his hands shook. His mind reeled. They had erased Elizabeth. He waited outside for an hour, pacing near the hospital entrance. His mind raced with possibilities. They had seen him. That much was certain. If he stormed back in, they would stop him before he even got close. No, he had to be careful. He took a deep breath and walked back inside. The air smelled sterile—too clean, as if it were covering something rotten. Walker’s pulse thundered in his ears as he crept through the hallway, his steps calculated, his shoulders hunched to blend into the background. He kept his face down, pretending to study his shoes, but his eyes flicked up now and then, scanning the nurses behind the counter. Their chatter continued, oblivious to him—or so he hoped. He moved with precision, waiting for the perfect moment. The counter was lined with stacks of folde
Latest Chapter
Bring back Riven
The Stone-Faced Man stamped his heavy boots against the concrete floor of the treatment room. The sound ricocheted off the walls like a gunshot."I warned you," he said, dragging the word warned into a deep, groaning rasp that froze the air itself.Dax kept his gaze pinned to the floor, his battered body trembling under blood-stained bandages. Around him, the others sat or slumped against the walls—bruised, broken, humiliated.Six had gone after Walker. Only five had returned—and barely."You’re all worthless," the old man hissed. "Six against one. One... and now you’re five." He spat thickly onto the floor, the glob splattering near Dax’s boot.He stalked closer, the air warping with his rage."What the hell were you thinking—leaving one of your own behind? If your corpses were dragged back to me, I would’ve loved it more."The silence was suffocating. No one dared lift their head."You think he’s gonna mercy Riven? He’s squeezing him dry as we speak—and that one broken link is enoug
The House Divide
Oscar’s wife stared at him for a full minute—really stared—like she was trying to figure out if she even recognized the man sitting in front of her.“Is there something you’re not telling me?” she asked, voice tight.Oscar wasn’t listening.His mind was a thousand miles away, replaying the moment everything went wrong—the night he chased two strangers through the alley behind Ramirez’s safehouse. Strangers who moved like trained shadows.He caught one, slammed him into a wall—but the guy slipped free in his car, and almost snapped Oscar’s temples in the process.Since then, the hunt had never stopped.And Oscar had never told her why.“I’m talking to you, dummy,” she snapped, voice slicing through the silence.Oscar turned his head, half amused. “Did you just call me dummy?”She crossed her arms but didn’t answer. The set of her jaw said enough.“What’s gotten into you?” Oscar muttered, disbelief flickering across his battered face. The woman he married—calm, respectful, patient—was n
"You're Going To Tell Me Everything"
The single bulb above Anita’s head flickered, its weak glow pulsing like a dying heartbeat. It buzzed intermittently, casting long shadows that crawled across the rotting wooden walls of the shed. The air was heavy—damp, stale, and sour with mold. A faint drip echoed in the corner, where rust kissed the steel frame of an old workbench. The place smelled like wet earth and forgotten things.Anita stirred.Her wrists were zip-tied to a rusted metal chair, the plastic biting into her skin. Blood, dry and dark, streaked down her temple from the blow at the club. Her lashes fluttered. She winced at the ache in her skull, the tightness in her arms. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was. Then her gaze found him.Jett stood in the shadows, arms crossed, a statue carved from grief and fury. His face was unreadable. Stone. Cold. A shadow masked half of his features, but his eyes—those eyes—burned.He didn’t speak.Seconds passed. Maybe a minute. The silence thickened, pressing down like f
The Visitors took to their heels
A cough.Low. Wet. Right outside the back fence.Walker froze, still crouched over the false floorboard in the kitchen, where he’d been checking the tension on the tripwire. The wire hummed in his hand.He reached slowly for the blade taped under the sink.Another cough. Then silence.It wasn’t Greg. Greg never came back. Claimed his knees hated stairs. This sound came from the alley behind the thorn wall—a place only someone looking for him would bother with.Walker moved to the window. The boards made no sound; he’d oiled the hinges himself. Through the slats, nothing moved. Just ivy twitching in the wind.Then—click.A soft crunch.Someone just stepped on the pressure plate under the third flagstone.His heart rate spiked. He waited.WHAM!The spring-jaw trap snapped shut with a metal scream.A shout. Muffled. A man’s voice.“Shit! Shit!—”Then silence.Walker grabbed the small mirror on a stick from behind the curtain and angled it through the window gap. What he saw made him curs
The Safehouse Isn’t Safe
The ride was quiet, but not peaceful.The kind of silence that clings to your skin. The kind that knows how to wait.Oscar leaned back in the passenger seat, jaw clenched, a cold sheen of sweat collecting on his temples. Every bump in the road jarred his broken ribs, lighting fires under his skin. His shirt clung to his torso, damp with blood that refused to clot. He didn’t complain. Didn’t groan. The pain reminded him he was still alive—for now.His wife gripped the steering wheel like it was a lifeline. Her eyes danced between mirrors—rearview, side, dash cam—never resting, never blinking too long. The way she drove, it wasn’t just focus. It was fear disguised as control.She hadn’t spoken since they left the clinic.She didn’t need to.They couldn’t go home. Couldn’t risk her sister’s house. Couldn’t hide in a hotel, not even under a fake name. Whoever was after them wasn’t tailing—they were tracking. With precision. With intent. Like wolves trained by men who’d seen war.Oscar kne
The Subtle Fortress
The rain had just stopped when Walker stepped off the train and into the quiet edge of the Bronx suburbs. Not the heart of New York—too loud, too watched. Here, people minded their business. And if they didn’t, he’d give them a reason to.He walked with a duffel bag over his shoulder, the only sound his boots slapping damp concrete. Three blocks in, he saw the apartment. Weathered brick. Ivy curling up the sides like it was trying to pull it back into the earth. Two floors. Back alley. Narrow front. It was perfect.A sign in the dusty window read: Room For Lease. No Pets. No Nonsense.He knocked once. Waited.The door opened a crack. One gray eye peered through. Then it opened wider.Old man. Mid-seventies. Flannel shirt, suspenders, the scent of wood shavings clinging to him like perfume.“You lost, son?” the man asked.Walker didn’t smile. “Looking to rent. Short term. You Greg?”The man nodded. “Might be.”“I’ll pay three months upfront. Quiet. No visitors. I just need space.”G
PENTHOUSE–FORTY-THIRD Floor
Penthouse, 2:17 A.M.Outside, Manhattan pulsed—wet streets, blinking signs, garbage trucks grinding somewhere far below. Inside, the hallway outside the main chamber felt like a mausoleum—quiet, cold, and waiting.Riven leaned against the wall, fidgeting with a lighter he didn’t know how to use. “You think he ever sleeps?”Dax didn’t look up from his phone. “The boss?”“No, Santa Claus.”Dax’s mouth twitched—almost a smile. “If you gotta ask, you’re not ready to meet him.”Riven glanced at the thick steel double doors ahead. “Think he’ll like me?”Dax finally looked over. “No.”Riven paused. “What if I brought donuts?”Now Dax did smile—barely. “He doesn’t eat sugar. Says it fogs the kill switch.”“What’s the kill switch?”Dax tapped his chest. “The moment you hesitate.”Before Riven could reply, the doors clicked open on their own. No creak. Just smooth, mechanical surrender.“Guess that’s our cue,” Dax said, already walking.Inside the Domain.It felt more like a fortress than a hom
The Day Of Departure
Paris, 5:26 a.m. – The Day of DepartureA gray hush hung over the apartment like a veil. Outside the window, the streets of Montparnasse were slick with rain, streetlamps still glowing, casting long yellow reflections across the pavement. Inside, the kitchen smelled of dark roast and quiet dread.Elizabeth stood barefoot by the stovetop, wrapped in one of Walker’s old cotton shirts—navy blue, frayed at the cuffs. She cradled a white mug in both hands, staring blankly at the French press slowly dripping behind her. The overhead light hummed, a faint contrast to the rhythmic patter of drizzle tapping the windowpanes.Walker entered the kitchen already dressed—charcoal jeans, black boots, and a fitted dark jacket zipped halfway. His duffel bag was slung over his right shoulder; a small black carry-on rolled behind him.“You’re early,” she said without turning.“I couldn’t sleep.”She reached for a second mug and poured. “You want one for the road?”He nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”They sipped
You will stay here tonight
A dusty taxi creaked to a halt by the side of an empty stretch of road. Jett stepped out first—broad shoulders wrapped in a black leather coat, hood drawn, his jaw clenched beneath a well-groomed beard. His mirrored sunglasses caught the glow of the streetlight, making him unreadable.Without a word, he circled to the other door, yanked it open, and dragged Anita out. She stumbled. Her face was veiled beneath a grey scarf, pulled tight. Her wrists were tense under his grip.The taxi disappeared into the fog. Another whizzed past, not even slowing when the driver caught a glimpse of the strange duo. Jett knew better than to head home. Surveillance was real. Patterns get you caught. And tonight, he wasn't just a hacker — he was judge, jury, maybe more.He hissed into Anita’s ear, the barrel of a pistol poking under her rib cage. “One sound, and I turn your insides into fog. Got it?”She nodded slowly, eyes wet, throat stiff.When a second cab finally pulled over, Jett shoved her inside
