Summary: When a young analyst stumbles upon an unusual discrepancy in military records, her curiosity leads her into a web of danger. As she delves deeper, anonymous threats begin to surface. Concerned but undeterred, she reports her findings, prompting her superiors to place her in a dedicated task force. Now, they must uncover the extent of the conspiracy and expose the shadowy figures behind it. (Ghost x OC - Slow Burn)
Chapter 5 - Snow Fall [PART 2]
The interrogation wing was cold in a way the rest of the base never seemed to be.
Aelia sat behind the observation glass with a fresh coffee cradled between both hands, exhaustion sitting heavy beneath her eyes despite the adrenaline still lingering in her system. Across from her, Simon stood near the back wall of the room, arms folded tightly over his chest as he watched B through the glass with unwavering focus.
Inside the interrogation room, B looked significantly less smug now that he was zip-tied to a metal chair beneath harsh fluorescent lights.
Soap had already tried the friendly approach.
Gaz tried the calm approach.
Price had tried the authoritative one.
Now they were cycling back through them all again.
“You got a name?” Price asked evenly.
B stared at the tabletop.
Soap sighed dramatically from the corner. “Mate, if ye make this difficult, Ghost is gonna come in here eventually and then everybody’s day gets worse.”
That finally got a reaction.
Price noticed it too. “Right,” he murmured. “So you do know who he is.”
B swallowed hard but still said nothing.
From behind the glass, Simon looked entirely unbothered by the revelation.
Aelia, however, glanced sideways at him. “You’ve really got a reputation, huh?”
Inside the room, Price slid a folder onto the table. “You’re not loyal enough to die for her,” he said calmly. “And Lilith’s not loyal enough to save you.”
“She doesn’t save anyone,” B muttered quietly.
The room shifted instantly.
Price leaned forward slightly. “No?”
B laughed once under his breath. Bitter. Exhausted. “She picks people already falling apart,” he said. “Then gives them purpose.”
Aelia frowned slightly behind the glass.
“What’s your real name?” Gaz asked.
Soap blinked. “Excuse me?”
Belial looked irritated now, like he regretted answering at all. “That’s what she called me.”
Price exchanged a glance with Gaz. “Belial,” he repeated slowly. “Like the demon.”
Belial gave a humorless smile. “You’re catching on.”
Aelia straightened in her seat.
Simon’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Price tapped the folder once. “And M?”
Belial leaned back in the chair with a shrug. “Mephistopheles.”
Soap stared at him for a solid second. “Absolutely no one is sayin’ all that in the field.”
“That’s why we called her M.”
Aelia’s fingers tightened slightly around her coffee cup. “Lilith gave you the names,” she realized quietly.
Belial nodded once. “She gives all of us names.”
Price’s voice hardened. “How many is ‘all’?”
Belial’s expression darkened. “Depends on how many are still alive.”
Silence settled heavily across the room.
Behind the glass, Aelia quickly pulled her laptop closer, fingers already moving across the keys.
“What’ve you got?” Simon asked quietly.
“I’m cross-referencing,” she muttered. “Belial, Mephistopheles… if they’re all using infernal names as identifiers—” Her screen filled with notes, old case files, fragments from previous attacks.
Aelia pointed rapidly at the screen. “Look at these aliases connected to prior incidents. Abaddon. Asmodeus. Astaroth. We thought they were independent usernames or dead-end tags online.”
“But they weren’t,” Simon finished.
Inside the interrogation room, Price continued pressing.
“How often does Lilith move?”
Belial laughed quietly again. “Constantly.”
“Because she’s paranoid. She trusts no one for long,” Belial continued. “Different cities. Different safehouses. Different followers. Keeps everyone compartmentalized.”
“So even you don’t know where she is now,” Gaz realized.
Belial’s smirk faded. “No,” he admitted.
Soap swore softly under his breath.
Price remained composed, though frustration flickered behind his eyes. “Then how do you receive orders?”
Belial hesitated. “Dead drops. Encrypted messages. Burner phones. She never stays visible for long.”
Price leaned back slightly. “Meaning?”
Belial met his gaze directly. “You don’t track Lilith.” His smile returned slowly.
The room went still again.
Aelia felt a chill crawl down her spine despite herself.
Mephistopheles was significantly less cooperative than Belial.
And significantly louder about it.
“She’s not going to stop,” M snapped, restrained to the chair across the interrogation table. “You people still don’t get it.”
Soap leaned back against the wall with crossed arms. “Aye, we get it plenty. Cult leader with a god complex. Very original.”
M’s eyes flashed with anger. “You think this is a cult?”
“Walks like one,” Gaz muttered.
Price remained seated across from her, calm and unreadable. “You’re intelligent,” he said evenly. “Too intelligent to think Lilith actually cares about any of you.”
“She saved us.” The answer came instantly. Not rehearsed. Believed.
Aelia watched from behind the observation glass again, brows furrowing slightly. Simon stood beside her again, silent as always, though she’d started noticing the tiny tells now.
The slight tightening of his shoulders. The jaw clench beneath the mask. The way his eyes darkened every time Lilith’s name came up.
“She didn’t save you,” Simon said suddenly through the comms speaker.
Everyone in the interrogation room glanced upward slightly at the sound of his voice.
Simon stepped closer to the microphone panel beside the observation window, gaze fixed on her through the glass.
“She found damaged people,” he said coldly. “And made sure they stayed that way.”
M’s composure cracked for the first time. Only slightly. But Aelia saw it. So did Price.
“You knew her before,” M said carefully.
M studied the glass harder now, like she could somehow see him through it. “You’re him.”
Aelia glanced sideways at Simon.
He looked completely motionless.
But the room somehow felt heavier anyway.
Price smoothly stepped back in before the silence stretched too long. “Lilith’s planning another attack,” he said firmly. “Where?”
M smiled. “Oh, you’re behind already.”
Soap groaned dramatically. “Every villain says that. Can ye people not workshop new material?”
M ignored him entirely, eyes still fixed toward the observation glass. “She said you’d come after us emotionally first,” she said softly. “Try to make us doubt her.”
Simon’s voice cut back through the speaker instantly. “And did it work?”
That finally hit something.
M’s expression faltered. Just for a second.
Aelia leaned forward slightly.
“She gave you all names,” Simon continued. “Told you it made you important. Special.”
“You think you’re family?” Simon asked quietly.
His tone had changed. Softer now. Not kind. Just… knowing. And somehow that was worse.
“She’ll abandon you the second you become inconvenient,” he said. “Because that’s what she does.”
M’s breathing shifted unevenly.
Price noticed too and pressed immediately. “Where’s the next safehouse?”
“She changes them constantly,” M muttered.
“Where was the last one?”
Then Soap pushed off the wall with a sigh. “Right, my turn.”
Price gave him a look that clearly said behave.
He dragged a chair around backwards and sat down across from M casually. “Look,” he started, “you’re clearly smart, yeah? Smarter than Belial, at least. That bloke folds like cheap laundry.”
“So answer me this,” Soap continued. “If Lilith trusts no one… why’d she leave you behind?”
M’s eyes snapped toward him.
Soap leaned forward slightly. “Belial got caught. You got caught. She escaped clean.” He tilted his head. “Sounds an awful lot like she planned for that.”
Oop. Too quick. Soap saw it instantly.
“Aye?” He asked lightly. “Then why didn’t she come back for ye?”
M’s jaw tightened. “She had a mission.”
“And you were expendable.”
“No.” But weaker this time.
Aelia slowly sat back behind the glass, realization dawning.
It wasn’t brute force that worked on Lilith’s followers. It was making them realize they were disposable.
“She contacted us three nights ago,” M said suddenly.
The entire room sharpened.
Price leaned forward. “How?”
“An abandoned train depot in Brooklyn.”
Aelia’s fingers immediately flew across her keyboard.
“Coordinates?” Gaz asked.
“She uses old maintenance tunnels underneath it,” M continued reluctantly. “Temporary hub. Equipment storage. Communication relays.”
Price and Soap exchanged a quick glance.
Now they were getting somewhere.
“She still there?” Price asked.
M laughed quietly. “No one stays with Lilith for long.”
Simon’s voice came through the speaker one last time.
M slowly looked back toward the observation glass.
And for the first time since her capture—
“Yes,” she admitted softly.
Aelia looked up from her laptop immediately. “I found it.”
The room turned toward her.
She spun the screen around slightly, pulling up blueprints and satellite overlays.
“Old subway maintenance network beneath the depot,” she explained quickly. “Power fluctuations, hidden servers, encrypted signal bursts—someone’s been operating down there recently.”
The safe house sat in suffocating silence.
Rain tapped steadily against the cracked windows of the abandoned duplex while red and blue lights from distant traffic bled across the wet pavement outside. The building itself looked half-rotten from the outside, tucked between two condemned properties in a forgotten stretch of Brooklyn. Exactly the kind of place Lilith would use.
Ghost crouched across the street on the roof of a laundromat, rifle trained on the second-floor window. Through the thermal scope, only one heat signature glowed inside.
Price’s voice crackled low through comms. “Confirm visual?”
“Confirmed,” Ghost answered immediately. “Second floor. East room. Stationary.”
Gaz adjusted his vest from behind an overturned sedan farther down the block. “No movement at all?”
Soap exhaled slowly. “Could be asleep.”
“Could be bait,” Ghost muttered.
Aelia sat inside the surveillance van parked around the corner, fingers flying over her keyboard while she monitored hacked traffic cams and police scanners simultaneously. Her stomach twisted tighter with every passing second.
And somehow, that made it worse.
“I’m not picking up additional electronics inside,” she said carefully into comms. “No laptops, no radio chatter, no active security feeds. It’s… clean.”
“Too clean,” Price replied grimly.
Ghost never took his eye off the scope. “Thermal hasn’t moved in six minutes.”
Then Price made the call.
The team closed in fast and silent.
Gaz covered the rear exit while Soap took point at the front entrance with Price. Ghost descended from overwatch and joined them at the door, pistol already drawn.
Rain soaked through their boots.
The old wood groaned beneath Soap’s shoulder as he tested the frame.
The door exploded inward.
141 flooded the house in practiced formation.
Ghost moved first toward the staircase, taking the steps two at a time. His pulse thundered beneath his ribs as he reached the second-floor landing.
The heat signature was behind the final door.
Ghost entered first, gun raised.
The room smelled like iron.
A single lamp glowed dimly in the corner, illuminating peeling wallpaper covered in spray-painted symbols. Black markings crawled across the walls like claw marks. Candles littered the floor in uneven circles, their wax melted into strange shapes.
And in the center of it all—
A woman sat tied to a wooden chair.
Motionless. Dressed in a nun’s habit. A black skull balaclava covered her face.
For one horrifying second, he thought Lilith had somehow gotten to him first. Mocked him personally.
“Jesus Christ…” Gaz breathed from behind him.
The hostage trembled weakly against the restraints.
Soap immediately holstered his weapon and moved forward. “Easy, easy— we’ve got ye.”
His gloved hands grabbed the balaclava carefully, yanking it upward.
The woman underneath let out a broken whimper.
Aelia’s breath caught in her throat through the comms as Ghost froze.
Thin, deliberate slices carved across the woman’s cheeks, forehead, throat, even down what little skin showed above the collar of the nun’s robes. Some were shallow. Some still fresh.
The same ones Aelia had seen scattered throughout Lilith’s files.
Soap swore under his breath.
Price’s expression darkened immediately. “Get medical now.”
Ghost crouched in front of the hostage, cutting through the restraints with brutal efficiency while trying not to look too long at the markings carved into her skin.
The woman shook violently once freed.
“She kept saying…” the nun whispered hoarsely. “She kept saying the Ghost would come…”
Her bloodshot eyes slowly lifted to him. Then she started crying.
“She made us wear the masks…” the woman choked out. “She said he’d understand what it meant.”
Silence swallowed the room.
Ghost’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt.
Price looked around the room carefully now, eyes narrowing as realization set in.
No supplies. No luggage. No signs of long-term occupation.
“Bloody hell,” Gaz muttered quietly.
Aelia’s voice finally came through the comms again, softer this time. “She wanted you to find this.”
Ghost stared at the sigils on the woman’s skin.
At the skull mask crumpled in his hand.
At the room designed specifically to get inside his head.
And somewhere deep down, beneath the anger and adrenaline—
Lilith’s laughter echoed anyway.
The ride back to base was painfully quiet.
Rain streaked across the windshield in blurred lines while the city lights passed in dull smears of gold and red outside the armored SUV. No one really spoke. Even Soap had gone unusually silent in the backseat beside Gaz, both men still replaying the image of the terrified nun in their heads.
Ghost sat in the passenger seat, elbow against the window, gloved knuckles pressed against his mouth.
Lilith had done it again.
Another message aimed directly at him.
Aelia sat across from the others in the backseat, laptop balanced on her knees while security footage flickered uselessly across the screen. She’d already reviewed the area surrounding the safe house six times.
No trace of Lilith entering.
Like she’d vanished into smoke.
By the time they reached base, exhaustion had settled deep into everyone’s bones.
The briefing room lights were dim when they gathered around the table again. Half-empty coffee cups littered the surface beside folders, maps, and blurry surveillance stills. Someone—probably Soap—had left a crushed candy wrapper beside the projector remote.
Aelia sat curled slightly into herself near the end of the table, fingers rubbing tiredly at her temple while code scrolled across her laptop screen. Ghost leaned against the far wall nearby, arms folded tightly across his chest.
Price stared at the evidence board like sheer willpower alone might force it to make sense.
“She knew we were coming,” Gaz finally said quietly.
“No shit,” Soap muttered.
Gaz ignored him. “I mean exactly. She had the hostage staged, cameras disabled, escape route prepped. She knew.”
Price exhaled heavily through his nose. “Question is how.”
Aelia swallowed. “There wasn’t any digital footprint this time. Nothing obvious anyway.” She frowned down at her screen. “If she’s got another hacker besides Belial, they’re careful.”
Ghost’s gaze drifted toward the table. “She wanted us distracted,” he said lowly. “Wanted us emotional.”
Soap leaned back in his chair with a groan. “Mission accomplished then.”
The room felt heavier by the second.
Then Soap suddenly clapped his hands together once.
“Alright,” he announced loudly. “We’re all miserable. So I’ve decided that officially ends now.”
Gaz blinked at him. “You can decide that?”
“Aye.” Soap nodded seriously. “I’m Scottish. We’re basically authority figures during winter.”
Price pinched the bridge of his nose.
Soap pointed around the room dramatically. “Look at us. We’re sat in a depressing bunker three days before Christmas looking like a support group for divorced alcoholics.”
“That’s oddly specific,” Gaz muttered.
Aelia let out the faintest snort of laughter before quickly covering it with her hand.
Soap immediately pointed at her. “There! Proof! I got the lass laughin’. Morale restored.”
Ghost rolled his eyes, though Aelia caught the subtle twitch near the corner of his mouth beneath the mask.
Soap sat forward again. “I’m serious, though. It’s Christmas.” He gestured vaguely. “There’s gotta be somethin’ we can salvage here. Cookies. Lights. Terrible music. Somethin’.”
“You decorating the base, Johnny?” Gaz asked.
“Absolutely not,” Soap scoffed. “Last time I wrapped lights around a railin’, Laswell threatened my life.”
“That’s because you nearly started an electrical fire,” Price deadpanned.
A small, tired chuckle finally moved around the room.
Even Price’s expression softened for half a second before reality settled back over him again.
He looked at the board one more time.
Nothing fit together cleanly enough yet.
Finally, he pushed away from the table with a long sigh.
“That’s enough for tonight.”
Price rubbed a hand across his beard tiredly. “We’re burnt out, frustrated, and going in circles.” He glanced around the room firmly. “Go home. Get some rest.”
Soap looked genuinely shocked. “Ye mean that?”
“Christmas miracle,” Soap whispered dramatically to Gaz.
Price ignored him completely. “Be back day after Christmas. The night is yours.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Try acting like human beings for seventy-two hours.”
One by one, the tension in the room finally started to loosen.
Gaz stood first, stretching his back with a groan.
Soap immediately started talking about finding eggnog somewhere “that wouldn’t kill a horse.”
Price gathered his folders.
Aelia slowly closed her laptop.
Ghost remained against the wall for another moment, watching her quietly while everyone else filtered out.
Dark circles beneath her eyes. Shoulders tense. Still carrying far more than just mission stress.
When she finally stood, her gaze lifted briefly toward his. And for just a second, in the middle of all the chaos and exhaustion—
Then Soap loudly yelled from the hallway:
“Simon, if ye stand there broodin’ any harder the walls are gonna start emoin’ with ye!”
The moment shattered instantly.
Ghost swore under his breath.
Aelia laughed despite herself.
And for the first time in days, the sound didn’t feel forced.
The bullpen slowly emptied after that.
Gaz was the first to disappear, grumbling something about needing “real food” before his mum tried to force leftovers on him for three straight days. Soap followed not long after, loudly debating whether or not he could convince Price to expense Christmas whisky under “morale boosting.”
Price only waved him off tiredly.
The room quieted after that.
Monitors still glowed softly around the bullpen, reflecting against abandoned coffee cups and scattered case files. The whiteboard filled with names, symbols, timelines, and dead ends loomed over them all like a threat.
Aelia stayed for a moment longer, staring blankly at the grainy photograph of the safe house pinned to the board, before looking back at Ghost.
For the second time, the skull mask was gone.
It hung from one of the straps on his vest while he adjusted his jacket, revealing the faint stubble shadowing his jaw and the old scar tracing near his temple.
Aelia’s gaze caught there for just a second too long.
Simon noticed immediately.
“You keep starin’ like that, gonna make me self-conscious.” His voice was dry, tired around the edges.
Aelia blinked quickly, heat creeping into her cheeks before she looked away and busied herself fixing the strap of her bag. “I wasn’t staring.”
“You’re just annoyingly observant.”
One corner of Simon’s mouth twitched faintly at that.
Things fell quiet again as they headed toward the exit together, footsteps echoing softly down the corridor.
Outside the windows, snow drifted lazily through the London streets below. Christmas lights blinked from buildings across the city.
It felt strangely normal compared to the nightmare they’d been drowning in for months.
Aelia glanced sideways at him as they reached the elevators. “So,” she started softly, “what’re your plans for Christmas?”
Simon gave a small shrug, as if the question barely mattered.
“That sounds suspiciously depressing.”
A quiet huff of amusement left him.
“I’ll head home. Brixton.” He shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “Probably sleep for twelve hours. Maybe more if nobody blows somethin’ up.”
Aelia smiled faintly. “That’s it?”
The question hung there carefully.
Simon was quiet for a beat before shaking his head once.
“Not in Manchester anymore,” he answered simply. “Prefer Brixton.”
There was something final in the way he said it.
Aelia nodded slowly, understanding there were some subjects better left untouched for now.
The elevator dinged softly.
As the doors slid open, Simon stepped aside first to let her in. Aelia moved past him, catching the faint scent of smoke, cold air, and something distinctly him lingering against his jacket.
The doors began to close.
“Have a good Christmas, Aelia.”
Her breath caught slightly at the sound of her name in his voice—low and rough and unexpectedly gentle.
She looked up just in time to catch him watching her.
“Merry Christmas, Simon.”
The apartment smelled faintly of garlic, wine sauce, and the cinnamon candle Aelia had lit hours ago in a desperate attempt to make the place feel warmer than it actually was.
Christmas lights blinked softly around the living room window. A movie played quietly from the television—some old holiday special Derek had thrown on more for background noise than actual interest.
Aelia stood at the sink drying dishes while Derek leaned against the counter nearby with a beer in hand, scrolling aimlessly through his phone.
“That bakery near Times Square was beautiful,” she said softly, glancing over her shoulder toward him. “They had these huge window displays with moving trains and fake snow everywhere. You would’ve liked it.”
Derek hummed distractedly. Not even looking up.
Aelia’s smile faltered for half a second before she pressed on.
“And Central Park looked unreal this time of year. I only really saw it through the car windows, but still.” She laughed lightly. “Everything was decorated. It looked like one of those cheesy Christmas films.”
Another hum. Another scroll of his thumb.
The knot in her chest tightened. She carefully set another plate into the drying rack before trying again. “Soap nearly got us kicked out of a hotel lobby because he tried stealing one of those giant nutcracker decorations.”
That finally got a reaction.
Derek snorted once into his beer. “Sounds mature.”
Aelia forced a small laugh. “Well, no, but—”
“Didn’t realize counterterrorism came with a holiday vacation package.”
The comment landed sharper than she expected.
Her hands slowed in the dishwater. “It wasn’t a vacation.”
“Sure sounded like one.” He took another drink. “Bars. Sightseeing. Christmas lights.”
Aelia frowned slightly as she turned toward him fully now, drying towel still in hand. “Derek, we were tracking a terrorist cell.”
“You still got flown to New York.”
Dismissive. Bitter. Like every word out of her mouth irritated him somehow.
Aelia swallowed hard and tried to keep her voice light. “I’m just trying to tell you about the trip.”
The bluntness caught her off guard.
Derek finally looked up from his phone then, eyes glassy from alcohol and already carrying that familiar edge she’d learned to fear.
“I mean honestly, Aelia, why do you keep talking about work?” He gestured lazily with the beer bottle. “It’s every day now. Work, work, work. Simon this. Johnny that. Missions. Briefings.”
Her stomach dropped slightly at Simon’s name.
“I barely even mentioned Simon.”
“But you thought about him.”
Derek laughed under his breath and shook his head before taking another drink. “C’mon, don’t play stupid.”
“I’m not playing anything.”
“No?” He pushed off the counter slowly. “Because lately you’ve been actin' real different.”
Aelia immediately straightened. Careful now. Always careful. “Different how?”
“You come home late.” He ticked points off with his fingers. “You’re distracted all the time. You barely touch me anymore.” His jaw tightened slightly. “And every time your phone goes off, you practically jump to answer it.”
Derek stared at her for a long moment before scoffing quietly. “You know what I think?”
“I think you like the attention.”
Her grip tightened slightly around the dish towel. “That’s not fair.”
“Oh, please.” He laughed bitterly. “You think I don’t notice the way that freak looks at you?”
Aelia’s expression hardened immediately. “Don’t call him that.” The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Derek’s eyes narrowed slowly. “…Excuse me?”
Aelia immediately looked away, pulse quickening. “I just mean—”
“No, no.” He stepped closer. “You got real defensive there.”
“He’s my coworker, Derek.”
“He’s some masked psycho you’ve known for, what, a few months?” His voice sharpened. “And suddenly you’re defending him in my house?”
Aelia could already feel the situation slipping.
She tried to de-escalate immediately. “I’m not doing this tonight.”
“Oh, so now I’m starting fights?”
“You’re twisting everything I say.”
Derek let out a harsh laugh and slammed the beer bottle down on the counter hard enough to make her flinch.
His eyes locked onto the reaction instantly.
And somehow that only made him angrier.
“You act like I’m some monster.”
The house suddenly felt too small. Too warm.
Aelia slowly set the towel down beside the sink. “I think maybe you’ve had too much to drink.”
Derek’s expression darkened immediately. “Don’t start talking to me like I’m a child.”
“No, Derek, I’m trying to—”
“You think because you work with soldiers now you’re better than me?”
The accusation hit like a slap.
Aelia stared at him in disbelief. “Where is this even coming from?”
“You barely even look at me anymore.”
Her chest tightened painfully.
Because part of her knew that wasn’t entirely untrue.
And Derek saw the hesitation cross her face.
That split second of silence.
His expression changed instantly.
Something ugly settled there.
“Are you fucking him?” He asked flatly.
The air left her lungs. “What?!”
“Then why the hell do you say his name like that?”
Aelia stared at him, horrified. “You’re insane.”
The second the words left her mouth, she regretted them.
His hand slammed against the counter beside her hard enough to make her jump violently.
“Don’t.” His voice dropped low. Dangerous. “Don’t talk to me like that.”
Aelia’s breathing turned shallow immediately as she backed up a step, hitting the edge of the sink. “I didn’t mean—”
The tension in the room became suffocating.
Christmas lights blinked softly in the silence behind him.
Aelia’s throat tightened as Derek stepped closer again.
And suddenly all she could think about was Simon’s voice from days ago.
Sometimes you stop realizing how bad it already is.
Derek lunged forward suddenly, fingers reaching for her arm.
Aelia reacted on instinct.
She shoved him hard in the chest.
Under normal circumstances, it barely would have moved him. Derek was bigger than her by a fair margin, broader, heavier—but panic gave her enough force to catch him off balance for half a second.
More importantly, her nails raked across his neck in the process.
Deep enough to leave angry red scratches.
Derek stumbled a step backward with a sharp hiss, hand flying to his throat. The second he looked down and saw the blood spotting his fingertips, something in his expression changed completely.
“You scratched me?” His voice came out low.
Aelia took another step back automatically as he advanced toward her again. “I didn’t mean—”
“You fuckin' scratched me?” The way he shouted it made her flinch violently.
And that moment—that visible fear crossing her face—only seemed to make him angrier.
Aelia didn’t wait this time.
Her socks slipped slightly against the hardwood floor as she bolted for the stairs, heart hammering so hard it made her dizzy.
She heard him coming after her immediately.
Pure adrenaline carried her upstairs as tears blurred her vision. She nearly slammed into the hallway wall trying to turn toward the bedroom.
Behind her, Derek was yelling something she couldn’t even process anymore.
Her hands shook violently as she fumbled with the bedroom door, then the bathroom door immediately after that.
The second the bathroom latch clicked into place, Derek hit the other side of the door hard enough to make the entire frame shake.
She scrambled backward until her spine hit the bathtub, hands clamped over her mouth as another slam rattled the wood.
His fist pounded against the door again.
Each hit made her jump harder.
“You think locking yourself in there is gonna fix this?!” He shouted.
Aelia shook uncontrollably, tears spilling down her face now. “You’re scaring me!”
“Good!” The word cracked through the door so violently she sucked in a sharp breath.
Downstairs, the television was still playing some cheerful Christmas music special.
The contrast made her feel sick.
“You wanna act like I’m some fucking monster?!” Derek barked. “After everything I’ve done for you?”
Aelia pressed herself tighter against the tub. “Please just go downstairs.”
“No!” Another slam. The door groaned under the impact. “You don’t get to shove me and run away!”
“Because you were disrespecting me!”
His voice echoed through the hallway loud enough to rattle the mirror above the sink.
Aelia’s breathing became uneven.
“You’ve been acting like a completely different person since you started working with them!”
Another bang against the door.
Aelia let out a frightened sob this time before she could stop it.
Silence followed briefly.
Then Derek laughed bitterly from the other side of the door.
“There it is,” he muttered. “Now you wanna cry.”
Aelia squeezed her eyes shut. “Please…”
“You know what your problem is?” He continued, voice muffled through the wood now as he paced outside. “You think those military idiots actually care about you.”
“You think they see you as one of them?” Another laugh. “You’re useful to them, Aelia. That’s it.”
She shook her head rapidly, even though he couldn’t see her. “You don’t know them.”
“Oh, I know men.” Another hard smack against the door made her yelp. “And I know exactly how that masked freak looks at you.”
“Stop talking about him!” The words burst out before she could stop them.
Aelia realized her mistake too late.
On the other side of the door, Derek went still.
When he spoke again, his voice had dropped terrifyingly quiet.
“…You really do care about him.”
Aelia’s pulse thundered painfully in her ears. “No, I—”
“There’s nothing happening!”
“But you want there to be.”
The sudden roar made her cry out as something slammed against the wall outside—hard enough to make a picture frame crash to the floor.
Aelia curled tighter into herself beside the bathtub, shaking so hard her teeth hurt.
And somewhere beneath the panic, one horrible realization finally settled in completely.
And if Derek got through that door tonight—
The thought alone made terror claw up her throat hard enough to choke her.
Aelia didn’t even think. She just moved.
Her hand fumbled for her phone on the floor tiles, fingers shaking so badly she nearly dropped it twice before managing to drag it closer. The screen was cracked slightly from the earlier chaos, but still lit.
The bathroom door was still vibrating in its frame from the last impact outside.
Another hit came immediately after.
Aelia flinched so hard her thumb slipped across the screen.
Emergency services hovered in her mind again.
Her breathing came in sharp, broken pulls as she swiped through contacts with trembling hands.
Her finger hovered for half a second too long.
Another slam hit the door. The frame cracked slightly at the latch.
Aelia pressed the phone so hard to her ear it hurt.
“Yeah?” Simon’s voice came through immediately—sharp, awake, already alert.
Just hearing it made something in her break open. “Simon—” she tried. Nothing came out properly. Her throat seized.
“Aelia?” His tone shifted instantly. “Talk to me.”
Outside the bathroom, Derek was shouting now—words muffled, distorted through wood and panic, but closer than before. The door handle rattled violently.
It wasn’t going to hold much longer.
“Simon I—” Her voice cracked. “He—he’s—”
The door shuddered so hard the mirror inside the bathroom vibrated.
Simon went silent for half a second.
Then his voice sharpened into something entirely different. “I know. Stay where you are. Don’t move.”
“I can’t—” Aelia whispered, tears spilling now. “He’s—he’s right outside—”
“I’m coming,” Simon cut in immediately. “Stay on the line. Keep talking to me.”
Another hit outside. The wood around the latch splintered slightly.
Derek’s voice broke through clearer now. Angrier. Right there.
The bathroom door flew open.
His face wasn’t just angry anymore—it was stripped down to something raw, volatile, unstable. His eyes locked onto her immediately.
Aelia scrambled backward instinctively, phone still pressed to her ear.
“Who the hell are you talking to?” He snapped, stepping inside.
Simon’s voice cut through the line at the exact same moment. “Aelia, get away from him. Now.”
Derek heard it. His head jerked toward the phone instantly.
“Oh, you’re really doing this?” He barked. “You’re calling him while I’m right here?”
Aelia tried to stand, but slipped slightly on the tile as she backed up. “I didn’t—just—stop—”
Derek moved fast. He grabbed her wrist. Hard. Not a warning. Not hesitation. Intent.
Aelia gasped sharply as he yanked her forward. “Let go!”
“Shut up!” He snapped, dragging her out of the bathroom.
Her phone hit the floor with a sharp crack, Simon’s voice still audible through it—distant, distorted, but there.
“Aelia—keep talking to me—!”
The sound of him made Derek’s grip tighten.
He dragged her into the hallway.
Aelia clawed at his hand, nails digging into his skin, trying anything to slow him down.
“Stop what?” He shouted, hauling her forward again. “Stop you from humiliating me?”
She stumbled hard, nearly falling, catching herself against the wall.
The hallway felt too narrow. Too bright. Too real.
Christmas decorations still hung along the stair rail—little red ribbons and cheap plastic garland she’d put up days ago, trying to make things feel normal.
It made the moment feel wrong in a way she couldn’t process.
“Please,” she sobbed. “You’re hurting me—”
That word changed something in him.
“You think I’m hurting you?”
Aelia shook her head rapidly, terrified now.
He grabbed her shoulder and shoved her back against the wall.
Not enough to knock her down.
“You don’t get to say that,” he hissed.
Aelia’s breath hitched violently. “I just want you to stop—”
“Stop what?” He repeated, voice rising again. “Stop you from running to him every time something happens?”
The argument snapped louder, bouncing down the hallway.
Derek’s grip shifted again—more forceful now as he pulled her away from the wall.
Aelia struggled harder, panic overtaking thought completely. “Derek—please—I’m not doing anything—!”
“You’re lying!” He shouted.
And in the chaos of it—her resistance, his grip, the shouting, the slipping balance—
They reached the edge of the stairs.
Aelia didn’t realize until her heel caught the edge of the top step.
She tried to pull away at the same moment he did.
Not a deliberate push. Not a calculated move.
Just a violent, tangled moment of force and panic and imbalance.
And everything went wrong at once.
Her arm slipped from his grip.
His hand jerked forward instinctively to hold her—
Aelia’s eyes widened in pure shock as her foot left the floor entirely.
For a split second, Derek’s face changed—something like realization flashing across it.
But it was already happening.
Just the result of too much force, too much struggle, and one moment where nothing held anymore.
Her body hit the first step hard.
The sound of it swallowed the house.
And Derek stood frozen at the top of the stairs, staring down, breathing hard—like even he didn’t fully understand how fast everything had just fallen apart.
The air inside the house felt wrong now — too tight, too loud, like it had nowhere left to go.
Derek was rushing down the staircase in a flash, quickly approaching Aelia, where she was lying on her side on the hall floor, pushing herself up painfully.
Aelia didn’t think, just reacted.
Something from the counter hit the wall near Derek with a sharp crack, followed by another object that bounced off the doorframe as he tried to close the distance again. Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely tell what she was grabbing, only that she needed space between them.
“Stop throwing things,” Derek snapped, voice rising again, frustration bleeding through the control he’d tried to force into it.
Her breath came in broken pulls as she stumbled backward toward the front door, vision swimming at the edges. The room tilted slightly when she turned, like the floor wasn’t fully committed to staying level.
Her fingers fumbled the lock.
Cold night air hit her face the second she pulled it open. It almost knocked her backward on its own.
Aelia pushed through the doorway and half-fell onto the front step, catching herself on the railing with a sharp gasp. Her knees buckled, but she forced them straight again, like standing was something she had to remember how to do.
Behind her, the door stayed open.
For a second, everything paused — like the house itself was holding its breath.
Down the patio steps too fast.
Her foot caught the edge of the last one.
She went down hard onto the lawn, hands and knees, hitting snow-covered grass. The impact knocked the air out of her in a soundless gasp, and for a moment, she just stayed there, blinking at the ground like it might explain what was happening.
Aelia pushed herself up again, swaying as she turned her head—
Headlights. A car turning into the street. Braking.
The vehicle slowed too sharply, like the driver had already recognized something was wrong before he’d fully processed it. The engine cut a beat later, and the door opened before the car had even fully stopped rolling.
Simon was out immediately.
No words at first — just movement.
His eyes locked onto her in the lawn, then flicked once to the open doorway behind her, where Derek now stood half in shadow. Frozen.
Caught between embarrassment and anger, like he hadn’t decided which one to wear yet. His posture was rigid, defensive, one hand still near the doorframe as if he’d only just realized there were witnesses.
A porch light flicked on across the street.
A curtain shifted in a nearby window.
Curiosity turning into concern in real time.
Simon crossed the yard in a few strides, already dropping to one knee beside Aelia.
His hand hovered for half a second — not touching yet, just scanning her face, her posture, the visible signs of distress like he was taking inventory before anything else.
“Aelia,” he said again, low and controlled. “Talk to me.”
Her mouth opened. Nothing came out at first. Just breath, uneven and shaking.
Behind them, Derek finally moved again — a step forward onto the porch. “Hey—” Derek started, voice sharp now, performing again for the audience he hadn’t wanted. “This is not what it looks like.”
Simon didn’t turn around. That alone changed the temperature of the entire yard. His attention stayed on her. “What happened?” He asked quietly.
Aelia tried to answer, but it broke halfway through. Her hand lifted slightly, then dropped again as dizziness rolled through her. The snow beneath her felt too soft, like she couldn’t trust it to hold her upright anymore.
Derek stood his ground at the edge of the porch, but it didn’t look like confidence anymore. Not really. It was performative now — shoulders squared too hard, voice too loud, like volume could substitute for control.
“You need to back off,” he said, pointing toward Simon like he was still in charge of the situation. “Right now. This is private property. You don’t belong here.”
Aelia shifted slightly at the sound of his voice, but Simon didn’t look away from him.
That alone made the air feel heavier.
Simon rose fully now, stepping away from Aelia just enough to place himself between her and the house without making it obvious he was doing it. His posture wasn’t aggressive.
“Listen carefully,” Simon said.
Derek scoffed, trying to recover. “Or what? You’re gonna threaten me again?”
Simon took one slow step forward.
Until the distance between them wasn’t conversational anymore.
His voice dropped even lower, almost quiet enough to force Derek to lean in without realizing he was doing it.
Derek’s expression flickered — just for a second. A crack in the mask. But he tried to push through it anyway. “You think you scare me?” He shot back, though his voice had lost its edge. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about—”
Simon cut him off without raising his voice.
“I know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“And I know what kind of man does it when no one is watching.”
Derek’s mouth opened, then closed again. The argument didn’t come out. Whatever he had prepared dissolved under the weight of Simon’s attention.
Around them, the neighborhood had gone fully silent now. Curtains drawn back. Shapes in windows. Someone across the street openly watching, phone now definitely raised.
Derek shifted his stance, suddenly aware of it.
Aware of them. Of being seen.
“You’re done talking,” Simon added, tone flattening further. “Go inside. Stay there.”
It wasn’t loud. But it carried the finality of an order that didn’t expect negotiation.
Derek hesitated — pride fighting instinct. For a moment, it looked like he might push again.
Then Simon tilted his head slightly. Just a fraction.
Derek’s resolve broke. He backed up one step, then another, jaw clenched so tight it looked like it hurt. His eyes flicked once to Aelia on the ground — then away again immediately, like even acknowledging her cost him something.
Without another word, he turned and went back inside, the door shutting harder than necessary behind him.
Silence returned to the yard.
Simon held still for another second, confirming the door didn’t open again, before his attention finally dropped back to Aelia.
And when he crouched beside her this time, his voice softened instantly.
“Alright,” he said quietly. “I’ve got you."
(This took too long but, here we are, hah ^^')
[Chapter 1], [Chapter 2], [Chapter 3], [Chapter 4], [Chapter 5 PART 1], [Chapter 5 PART 2],
