Chapter 170

A Lesson in Monsters.

Sage

Mornings are haunted by ghosts—not the kind that have passed on, but those still very much alive. These are the restless souls who stir before dawn, weighed down by silence pressing hard against their chests, where sleep never lingers long enough to offer comfort. Like clockwork, I rise before the sun’s first light. The compound lies still, dew sparkling on the blades of grass, and the air is crisp enough to bite at my skin. Usually, the only sounds are my footsteps and the gentle chorus of birds greeting the day. But today, something else breaks the quiet—a faint, pulsing glow coming from Diego’s cabin. He’s awake. That’s not unusual in itself, but the reason why is.

Slipping on my coat, I make my way across the yard, my boots barely making a sound on the gravel. As I draw nearer, a subtle noise becomes clearer—the soft hum of electronics, the unmistakable buzz that in this family means only one thing: surveillance. The door stands unlocked. I nudge it open just enough to peek inside.

There he is, sitting at his desk, eyes glued to a dozen small screens. The cold light from the monitors flickers across his face, casting shifting shades of blue and gray. He doesn’t notice me immediately. On the screens, I catch glimpses of movement—rooms, shadows, and a familiar set of walls I shouldn’t be seeing from here: the Ricci estate. So, he’s still watching. The same cameras I saw him install last night.

I lean casually against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Trouble sleeping?”

He doesn’t startle or turn around. Instead, he leans back slightly, embodying that calm stillness that suggests he was expecting company at some point.