The following day, Linus approached Eliza’s estate with a determination that coursed through every step. As he neared the property, his keen eyes flickered over the landscape, catching subtle signs that others might overlook. Among the treetops and shadows of the estate’s grand silhouette, the presence of Mara’s spies was almost imperceptible, their vigilance a quiet hum in the air. Linus did not so much as glance in their direction. To acknowledge them would invite their scrutiny, which was a luxury he could not afford. The narrative was his to control, and Mara’s knowledge of his moves would unravel everything before it began.
He moved with deliberate caution, scanning his surroundings for a discreet location where he could find shelter. The area he sought was tucked away, shrouded in shadows, and removed from the watchful gaze of both friends and enemies. Thick underbrush and towering trees surrounded him, providing the perfect cover. He crouched low, his body still, his breath measured.
The estate’s grounds rippled with quiet motion, a symphony of life that played out beneath the golden haze of the late afternoon. Servants moved with practiced efficiency, their actions blending into a swift dance of intent, while guards patrolled the boundaries, their watchfulness a steady rhythm in the estate's heartbeat. From his secluded perch, Linus watched every motion, his gaze unyielding, his mind cataloging the scene like a hunter studying prey.
The hours passed with painful slowness, the afternoon sun tracing its golden path across the sky. Linus remained still. His patience, refined over the years, never faltered.
Then, at last, the moment arrived. From the grand double doors of the mansion emerged the Governor, his figure casting a long shadow across the driveway. The air seemed to shift, an almost imperceptible change in the atmosphere that Linus could feel in his bones. A sleek, ornately adorned carriage rolled to a halt before the entrance, its finishes gleaming in the fading sunlight. The Governor ascended the steps with the practiced air of a man accustomed to power, disappearing into its plush interior as the driver snapped the reins. The horses surged forward with a smooth, rhythmic gait, the clatter of hooves waning into the distance.
Linus’s eyes narrowed as he noticed movement in the periphery—Mara’s men, subtle as phantoms, trailing the Governor’s carriage at a safe distance. They moved with the precision of a well-rehearsed act, their shadows blending into the falling dusk. The corners of Linus’s mouth twitched in a fleeting smirk. Their interest in the Governor played perfectly into his hand.
This was it. The window he had anticipated. With the Governor gone, the estate would breathe a little easier, and the weight of its defenses temporarily shifted elsewhere. The guards who stayed would be fewer in number, their attention dulled by the absence of their master’s looming presence. Linus’s heart thudded once, a deliberate reminder to stay grounded, to not let the creeping thrill of the moment overtake him.
Linus exhaled slowly, his breath slipping into the stillness, and his eyes remained locked on the estate’s lush garden, where he knew Eliza would eventually appear. The afternoon light slanted across the grounds, filling the world with golden hues as the shadows lengthened and deepened. The waiting, the watching—it all came to fruition when he saw her.
There she was, moving gracefully among the flowers, her hands brushing against the petals as though seeking solace. Her expression was distant, her thoughts clearly elsewhere, lost in the labyrinth of her mind. She seemed fragile in that moment, as if the weight of the world had carved its mark upon her.
Quietly, Linus picked up a small stone, its cool weight resting in his palm. With precise aim, he tossed it in her direction, letting it arc softly through the air before hitting her feet with a muted thud. Eliza froze, her body taut, and her head snapped up, eyes wide with alarm. Linus watched the apprehension ripple across her face, her mind no doubt flashing to the recent attempt on her life. She searched the shadows, scanning for a threat—until her gaze found him.
For a moment, neither moved. The tension between them was palpable, a silent conversation held in the space of a heartbeat. Her expression shifted, fear giving way to recognition, though her features still held a guarded edge. Linus, emerging just enough to let her see him clearly, made a subtle gesture—a slight tilt of his head, a hand raised with deliberate slowness, signaling his intent. He wanted to go inside the mansion.
Eliza’s brow furrowed, her concern deepening into a mask of unease. Her eyes darted across the garden, searching for onlookers, for spies, for any trace of danger that might linger unseen. Linus held her gaze, his own sharp and unyielding, a silent insistence that cut through her hesitance. Her shoulders stiffened, her breath quickened—but she understood.
With a furtive glance over her shoulder, Eliza gave the faintest nod, the motion so slight it might have gone unnoticed by anyone not watching her as intently as Linus. Her hesitation lingered in the air, each movement deliberate, a careful choreography of resolve and caution. Linus remained rooted in place, his patience unwavering. He watched as she turned, her steps measured at first before quickening, her purpose sharpening with every stride toward the house.
Eliza’s return was seamless, her posture radiating an air of command as she stepped through the grand threshold. Her voice, clear and firm, carried through the expansive halls as she addressed the staff.
She directed them to focus on the front of the estate, her voice ringing through the grand hall with authority. “We’re expecting important visitors, and everything must be perfect,” Eliza commanded, her sharp tone slicing through the ambient hum of activity. “The main hall needs to be spotless.”
The servants exchanged brief glances, the weight of her words urging them into motion. A young maid hesitated for a moment, clutching a feather duster, her brow furrowed. “Should we polish the chandeliers as well, ma’am?”
“Yes,” Eliza replied without missing a beat, her gaze sweeping across the room. “Every corner, every surface. I want them gleaming. And once you’re done, set out the silverware in the dining room. The best set.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the maid murmured, hurrying to join the flurry of movement that was now sweeping through the front of the house.
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Eliza turned to the butler, who stood with a ledger in hand, his expression as composed as ever. “Edward,” she said firmly, “make sure the wine cellar is checked. Have the staff bring up the finest bottles—something suitable for our guests. And send someone to tend to the flower arrangements in the entryway. I want fresh blooms.”
“Of course, madam,” Edward replied with a slight bow. “Anything else?”
“That will do for now.” Her tone sharpened, leaving no room for interpretation.
“As you wish, madam,” Edward said before briskly walking away.
Eliza watched for a moment, ensuring the servants were fully absorbed in their tasks. The clink of silverware, the soft rustle of dust cloths, and the hurried steps of the maids filled the air.
Satisfied that the staff was sufficiently occupied, she slipped away with quiet grace, her movements precise as she made her way to the rear of the estate. The house seemed to hold its breath as she approached the back door, her hands working deftly to leave it ajar, the smallest crack of opportunity awaiting Linus’s arrival. She paused for a moment, glancing back toward the commotion in the front, before retreating into the shadowed interior.
Linus waited in the silence of the garden, the faint hum of distant voices drifting toward him. His sharp gaze flicked across the perimeter, ensuring there were no lingering eyes, no sudden complications. Satisfied, he rose from his hidden perch and moved, his steps as fluid and precise as a predator closing in on its prey.
The back door yielded to his touch, and Linus slipped inside, his movements ghost-like against the dimly lit corridor. The house was quiet, the distant sounds of activity from the front muffled and barely reaching his ears.
He was in.
Eliza stood waiting in the dimly lit sitting room just off the back entrance, the flickering light of a single oil lamp casting uneasy shadows on her face. Her posture was taut, her fingers gripping the edge of a low table as though to anchor herself. Her eyes darted toward the door and the front, a blend of eagerness and unease swirling within her. When Linus slipped silently into the room, her breath hitched, and she moved swiftly to close the door behind him, her movements sharp and urgent.
Before she could utter a word, Linus raised a finger to his lips, his expression a mask of quiet authority. The intensity in his eyes stopped her mid-motion, and she froze, her lips pressing into a thin line. He stepped closer, his presence commanding, and leaned in so that his voice brushed against her ear like a shadow. “Take me to your husband’s study,” he whispered, his tone low and firm, his gaze darting to the corners of the room as if expecting the walls themselves to betray them.
Eliza swallowed hard, her pale features betraying her apprehension. She nodded a tight, reluctant motion before glancing toward the closed door to ensure no one lingered outside. The faint tremor in her fingers as she adjusted her dress did not escape Linus’s notice, though he said nothing. Her fragility, her unease—it was all carefully filed away in his mind as he fell into step behind her.
The corridors of the Governor’s estate stretched before them, dark and heavy with silence. Eliza moved with careful precision, yet Linus could feel her tension radiating in every motion. Her shoulders were stiff, her pace slightly hesitant, as though the shadows themselves might rise up to stop them. She glanced over her shoulder once, her wide eyes meeting his, searching for reassurance she knew he would not give.
Linus followed closely, his movements as silent and deliberate as a wraith gliding through the dim corridors. The ancient house seemed alive with whispers—the muffled murmur of voices from the front and the steady, rhythmic ticking of a grand clock somewhere deeper within its depths. Every sound, every flicker of movement was captured by his heightened senses. His sharp gaze swept over every corner and shadowed alcove, his mind calculating potential threats before they had the chance to materialize.
Then, a faint echo of approaching footsteps shattered the quiet. Eliza stiffened, her body going rigid as the sound grew louder, the soft padding of a servant’s shoes against the floor growing unmistakable. Her breath hitched, and she glanced back at Linus, her eyes wide with panic, the flicker of fight-or-flight raw and unhidden.
Linus’s expression hardened, his stare piercing and cold, a silent command that struck like a dagger. Without a word, he melted into the shadows of an alcove, his movements so seamless it was as if the darkness itself had engulfed him. Hidden from view, he raised a hand in a sharp, deliberate gesture: Deal with it. The unspoken words were as clear as a shout. His gaze lingered, cold and unyielding, leaving no room for missteps.
Eliza swallowed hard, her throat dry, and nodded stiffly, her composure slipping like sand through her fingers. She forced herself to turn toward the sound, willing her expression to be calm and controlled as the footsteps rounded the corner.
A young maid appeared, her arms laden with neatly folded linens, her brisk pace faltering the moment she saw Eliza standing alone in the corridor. “Madam,” the maid greeted, her voice polite but tinged with curiosity. She stopped short, tilting her head. “Do you need anything? Should I assist you?”
Eliza’s heart pounded like a trapped bird, but she managed a small, practiced smile. Clasping her hands tightly, though they trembled, she replied, “No, thank you,” her tone smooth but lacking its usual edge of authority. She hesitated—just for a moment—but the pause was enough to raise the maid’s brows, her curiosity deepening into mild suspicion.
Hidden in the shadows, Linus watched intently, his sharp eyes dissecting every detail of the exchange. He noted the way Eliza’s fingers twitched at the hem of her sleeve, her unsteady breathing, and the subtle flicker of her gaze that betrayed her nerves before she quickly masked them. She was unraveling, the tension in her body palpable, but Linus didn’t move. This was her problem to solve.
The maid lingered, her gaze dragging over Eliza as if trying to unearth some hidden truth. Sensing her own mistake, Eliza straightened abruptly, summoning the authority she could feel slipping away. “Please tend to the front hall,” she said, her voice sharper now, steadier. “We have guests arriving shortly.” Without thinking, she reached forward, taking the linens from the maid’s arms with a decisive gesture. “I’ll take these.”
The maid blinked, her suspicion dissolving into obedience. She nodded quickly. “Yes, Madam,” she murmured, bowing her head before turning and disappearing back down the corridor.
As the sound of the maid’s retreating footsteps faded, Eliza exhaled a quivering breath, her shoulders sagging as the tension bled out of her. She glanced back toward the alcove, where Linus still lurked, her lips trembling as she bit down hard to stop herself from speaking.
Linus stepped out, his movements as fluid and silent as the shadows he’d hidden within. He studied her with a faint smirk, the expression barely perceptible but enough to send a fresh wave of unease rippling through her. Her vulnerability lay bare before him, and he drank it in, his sharp eyes glittering with faint amusement.
“Good,” he murmured, his voice low and cutting, like the edge of a blade. He moved past her, the tension between them thick enough to choke. “Let’s not waste any more time.”
Eliza nodded quickly, her breath catching in her throat as she hurried ahead, desperate to put distance between herself and the disquieting presence trailing behind her. The immediate danger had passed, but Linus’s icy calm pressed against her like an unseen weight, an oppressive force that kept her nerves raw and frayed. They moved together through the mansion, silent as ghosts, the looming promise of what lay ahead pulling them deeper into the shadows.