Chapter 37: Shadows Within the Walls

The morning began too quietly.

No alerts. No calls. No new reports from Elijah's team. Just the hum of the darkness, the hush of wind against the windows, and the eerie sense that something was coming—but hadn't yet arrived.

Luna sensed it before Killian did.

She watched him from across the living room—seated on the couch, fingers tapping against a tablet, reviewing company updates with mechanical precision. But there was a tension in his posture. A quiet edge in the way his jaw ticked every few seconds.

The storm was close.

And it didn't make her wait.

Elijah's call came in just after nine.

Killian answered immediately, putting it on speaker. "Go."

"We have a breach," Elijah said, voice tight. "But not digital."

Killian stilled. "What kind of breach?"

"It's a message," Elijah said. "Delivered to the private dropbox in our off-grid estate—no traceable courier, no camera footage. Just a package inside the secure perimeter."

Luna stood, instinct kicking in. "That's impossible."

"Apparently not," Elijah replied. "Inside was a single black card."

Luna's heart dropped.

She didn't need to hear the rest.

"Elijah," Killian said. "Say it."

"The Obsidian Circle sent their insignia."

Killian rose slowly, his expression unreadable.

"They've never made contact directly," Luna said. "Not like this."

"I know," Killian replied. "That's what makes this worse."

Elijah continued. "There was a note on the back of the card. Just five words."

Luna exchanged a glance with Killian.

"What did it say?" Killian asked.

"Your debt is overdue, Blackwell."

The room fell into silence.

No threats. No demands. Just a simple, ominous reminder.

They were watching.

Waiting.

And ready to collect.

Killian ended the call and dropped the phone on the table. "They're not just playing with shadows anymore. They're knocking at the front door."

Luna's voice was low. "What are they planning?"

"I don't know," he said. "But if they're making themselves visible… it means they're about to act."

She stepped closer. "What are you going to do?"

Killian stared at the card Elijah had forwarded to his screen.

"I'm going to talk to the ones who started all of this."

It wasn't even noon when the gates of the Blackwell estate opened, letting in a sleek black town car with bulletproof plating and diplomatic clearance.

The moment it rolled to a stop, the atmosphere shifted—like gravity had doubled.

Richard Blackwell stepped out first—imposing in a tailored coat, silver cane in hand, his eyes already scanning the estate with sharp judgment. William followed, more subdued but no less commanding, his expression unreadable.

Killian stood at the entrance, arms folded, his face unreadable.

"You've upgraded the security," Richard said dryly as he approached.

Killian didn't smile. "Had no choice."

William gave a brief nod. "We heard about the message."

"I assume that's why you're here," Killian replied.

Richard stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. "That, and the fact that the Circle doesn't bluff."

Luna joined them in the main room, her presence calm and quietly commanding. She greeted William with a polite nod, but Richard barely acknowledged her as he took a seat near the fireplace.

Killian remained standing. "What aren't you telling me?"

Richard arched a brow. "You assume we know more than you."

"You do," Killian said. "And we're running out of time to play coy."

William sat slowly, folding his hands in his lap. "That card was a declaration. Not a warning."

Luna tilted her head. "Declaration of what?"

"Reclaiming control," Richard said. "They've been waiting for the right moment to pull the strings. You've grown too powerful. Too independent."

Killian's gaze sharpened. "So this is punishment."

"No," Richard said. "This is balance. They allowed this family to flourish because we knew our place. But now you've disrupted that."

Luna frowned. "By running the company on integrity?"

Richard scoffed. "By refusing to play the game that keeps wolves at bay."

William finally spoke again. "They're making an example out of you, Killian."

Killian's voice was low. "I won't kneel."

"No one's asking you to kneel," Richard replied. "But you'd better learn how to strike first."

Killian glanced at him. "So tell me how."

"There's a deeper tier," Richard said. "A layer of operatives inside political, corporate, and legal systems. The Circle doesn't always use force. Sometimes they bury you with policy and scandal. They'll ruin your image, not your body."

"Unless we stop them," Luna added.

Richard looked at her for the first time, and something in his gaze shifted—approval, perhaps, or curiosity.

"They've already started," William said, pulling a folded newspaper from his coat. "Front page of the Global Financial Review—a story linking Blackwell Industries to shell corporations in South America."

Killian took it and scanned the article. False leads, fabricated dates, but written with enough plausible detail to cause panic.

"The media is their next weapon," William said.

"And we'll need a counterstrike," Killian murmured.

Luna looked between them. "What about legal protection?"

"They'll outpace any legal team," Richard said. "The only way to stop them is to expose them before they expose us."

"How?" Killian asked.

Richard's eyes gleamed. "You turn the spotlight."

"On what?"

"On someone expendable."

Luna's stomach twisted. "You mean a scapegoat?"

Richard didn't flinch. "A sacrifice keeps the empire alive."

Killian's expression hardened. "I'm not throwing someone to the wolves."

"Then prepare to bleed," Richard said coldly.

William turned to his son, more measured. "You don't have to destroy anyone. But you do have to shift their focus."

Killian paced slowly. "And if I can't shift it fast enough?"

"Then you bleed publicly," William said. "And privately."

Killian stopped pacing, hands sliding into his pockets. His face gave away nothing.

But Luna saw it in his eyes—the weight of legacy crashing against the line of morality.

"What if we expose them?" she asked. "What if we use everything we've gathered to make the Circle visible?"

Richard let out a short, humorless laugh. "And who would believe you? You think the world's ready to admit that empires are run by ghosts?"

Killian's voice was calm. "Then we don't tell the world."

Luna turned to him. "What do you mean?"

He looked up slowly.

"We tell the people who benefit from believing it."

Luna's eyes widened. "Corporate rivals. Board members. Journalists on a leash."

"Exactly," Killian said. "We don't shout the truth. We whisper it in the right ears and let the fear spread."

Richard leaned back. "Now you're starting to think like a Blackwell."

But Killian didn't smile.

He turned to Luna. "I'll need your help."

She nodded. "Always."

And as the fire cracked softly behind them, Killian looked at the two men who had shaped the world he was born into.

His voice was quiet. "You built this empire. But I'll be the one to save it."

Neither Richard nor William replied.

But for once, both of them looked at him not as a son or a successor—

But as the true head of the Blackwell dynasty.