Shadow of Deception

Ava Sinclair's fingers hovered over her laptop keyboard, the dim glow of the screen casting sharp shadows across her face. The article she was working on-a deep dive into corporate corruption-had taken an unexpected turn. What started as a simple investigation had led her down a path tangled with offshore accounts, missing persons, and whispers of a silent puppet master.

His name was Xander Blackwood.

She stared at the photo pulled from a high-profile gala months ago. He was the very definition of power-tailored suit, commanding presence, and eyes that held secrets deeper than the ocean. Billionaire, CEO, and enigma, his name had surfaced too many times in her research to be a coincidence.

And that made him dangerous.

Ava's heart drummed against her ribs as she re-read the last email she received. Stop digging, Sinclair. There won't be another warning.

Her mouth ran dry. Threats weren't uncommon in her line of work, but this was different. The message wasn't just a scare tactic-it was a promise.

She exhaled, rolling her shoulders back. Fear was a familiar companion in investigative journalism, but this was the first time it felt personal. She minimized the email and pulled up her notes.

It had started with a shell company-Obsidian Holdings-that funneled millions through off-shore accounts. The deeper she dug, the more she found: disappearing board members, whistleblowers who went silent, and companies absorbed under mysterious circumstances. Blackwood's name was never directly attached to any of it, but the threads led back to him.

And then, two weeks ago, she had found something damning.

An offshore transaction-hundreds of millions moved overnight-had been tied to a missing diplomat's last known financial records. That wasn't just corruption. That was something bigger.

She had tried to be careful. VPNs, encrypted servers, even a burner laptop. But somehow, someone had found her.

A sharp knock at the door jolted her from her thoughts.

Ava's pulse spiked. She hadn't ordered food, and no one should be visiting her this late. She grabbed the small pocketknife from her desk and made her way to the peephole. A dark figure stood on the other side, their face obscured by the dim hallway light.

"Who is it?" she called out, masking the shake in her voice.

Silence.

Then, an envelope slid under the door. Footsteps faded into nothing.

Ava hesitated before picking it up. The paper was thick, expensive. Inside was a single black card with gold-embossed letters:

There are things worse than death. Turn back before it's too late.

Her grip tightened around the card, her breath unsteady. Someone wanted her to stop.

But Ava Sinclair had never been one to back down.

She spent the next few minutes pacing her tiny apartment, the card burning a hole in her palm.

She needed to think. Needed to breathe. Who the hell had found her?

Her apartment wasn't under her real name. She was careful-encrypted VPNs, multiple dummy accounts, using cash whenever possible. And yet, someone had not only tracked her but had come right to her door.

She grabbed her phone and dialed the one person she trusted.

"Pick up, pick up..."

"Jesus, Ava. It's two in the morning."

Noah Carter's groggy voice came through the speaker. Former investigative journalist turned private investigator, Noah had been her mentor before he got tired of chasing shadows and retired. But some shadows never let go.

"Noah, I got a warning. A physical warning."

A pause. Then, "Explain."

She did. The email. The knock. The black card. By the time she finished, she could hear him shuffling around on the other end, fully awake now.

"Where are you?" he asked.

"My apartment."

"Pack a bag and get out. Now."

Ava frowned. "I'm not running. I need to know who-"

"You don't understand," Noah cut in, voice sharp.

"If this is Blackwood, you don't get a second warning. These people don't threaten. They erase."

A chill ran down her spine.

She turned toward the window. The street below was dark and quiet, save for the occasional passing car. But was it quiet because it was empty... or because someone was watching?

"I'll be fine," she muttered. "I can handle myself."

"You're being reckless. Stay put-I'm coming over."

Ava opened her mouth to argue when her phone vibrated in her hand. Private Number.

Her stomach twisted.

"Noah, hold on. Someone's calling."

"Ava, don't answer-"

She accepted the call.

A smooth, deep voice slid through the speaker, sending an icy thread of fear down her spine.

"Ms. Sinclair," the voice drawled. "You should have listened."

The line went dead.

Ava's fingers clenched around the phone. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat. Noah was still shouting on the other end, demanding she tell him what was going on, but she barely heard him.

Because a shadow had moved across her window.

And it was coming closer.

Her instincts took over. She dropped the phone onto her desk and killed the lights. In the sudden darkness, her heartbeat thundered in her ears. She grabbed the nearest heavy object-a metal lamp-and edged toward the window.

The curtain shifted. A silhouette loomed behind the glass.

Ava forced herself to breathe quietly. Whoever they were, they weren't knocking this time.

The doorknob rattled.

Ava backed up, gripping the lamp tighter. Her brain raced. Should she run? Fight? Call for help?

The door creaked open.

A dark figure stepped inside. Tall. Confident. Dangerous.

She raised the lamp and swung. But in a flash, the intruder's hand shot up, catching her wrist mid-air.

"Not very hospitable, are we?" The voice was smooth, mocking.

Ava's breath hitched. She knew that voice.

Xander Blackwood smiled in the darkness.

He's here. And he's not leaving.