The Calm Before The Storm

Lena’s heart was still racing, her breath shallow as the stranger stepped fully into the room. She tried to make sense of the scene unfolding before her, but nothing about it made sense. The man’s icy calm demeanor, the way Andrew had tensed, his warning that he was “too late”—it was like watching a game of chess where the rules were written in a language she didn’t understand.

But something in the man’s eyes, that cold glint, told her they were no longer playing a game. This was real.

Andrew stood his ground, his posture rigid. He wasn’t backing down.

“You should’ve stayed out of this, Andrew,” the man said, his voice low, almost casual, but there was an undercurrent of danger in every word.

“I didn’t have a choice,” Andrew replied, his voice firm. He glanced briefly at Lena, then back at the man. “And neither do you.”