The dim glow of Scarlett's apartment seemed to shrink as the hours dragged on, the tension inside thick enough to cut with a knife. Scarlett sat in a chair, her arms crossed and her face a mask of distrust. Samaira paced the small living room like a caged animal, her once polished appearance now disheveled and frantic. Every creak of the old floorboards beneath her heels seemed to echo louder than it should have, filling the silence with dread.
"You're telling me Rogue is haunting you now?" Scarlett finally broke the silence, her voice sharp.
Samaira nodded, her face pale. "Yes. He's... he's after me. He knows what I've done."
Scarlett's brow furrowed, her patience wearing thin. "Who is Rogue? And why are you so sure he's coming for you?"
Samaira stopped pacing, her eyes darting toward the darkened window as if expecting something—or someone—to leap through. "I don't know who he is exactly. But he's not human. He's a shadow, a terror. His eyes... they're like pits of pure hatred. And every time I see him, I feel like my soul is being ripped apart."
Scarlett leaned forward, her voice low and dangerous. "Don't play games with me, Samaira. If you want my help, you need to give me more than that."
Samaira hesitated, her hands trembling as she clutched the back of the couch. "I think... I think he's from the Black Web. He's not just some... ghost or demon. He's... something darker. Something worse. He believes I summoned him for my execution."
Scarlett stared at her, the pieces of the puzzle starting to shift in her mind. "And you think he's here to kill you because you broke their rules?"
Samaira nodded, her voice trembling. "That's what I'm afraid of. But there's more." Her voice dropped to a whisper, as if afraid the walls themselves might betray her. "I think... I think Rogue isn't just from the Black Web. He's tied to us."
"To us?" Scarlett's eyes narrowed. "What does that even mean?"
Samaira's lips trembled as she forced the words out. "I think Rogue is someone we know. Someone we've already lost."
Scarlett felt a chill crawl up her spine. "What are you saying?"
Samaira swallowed hard. "I think Rogue is Johnny's shadow—his evil soul."
Scarlett's breath caught, her mind reeling. She thought of Johnny's quiet strength, his unwavering loyalty. The idea that something dark had sprouted from him felt impossible—and yet, she couldn't shake the cold truth in Samaira's eyes.
"I don't believe you," Scarlett said, but her voice wavered.
Samaira pressed on. "It makes sense, Scarlett. The timing, the energy. Rogue is tied to Johnny, but he's not Johnny. He's... what's left of his anger, his grief, his hate. And now, he's after me."
Scarlett leaned back, her heart pounding. "So you came here expecting me to protect you?"
Samaira nodded, desperation etched across her face. "Yes. I know what I did was unforgivable, but I can help you."
Scarlett's eyes flashed. "Help me? How?"
Samaira hesitated, her hands gripping the couch tighter. "There's a chance Shellie isn't... completely gone."
Scarlett froze. "What?"
Samaira met her gaze, her voice trembling but steady. "Iqia didn't kill her the way we think. Shellie was part of the ritual, yes, but those rituals don't just destroy life—they transform it. Her soul, her essence—it could still be out there, trapped somewhere. I can try to bring her back."
Scarlett's stomach twisted. She wanted to believe it, but the risk of false hope was almost too much to bear. "How?" she demanded.
Samaira took a shaky breath. "I know the Black Web better than anyone else on Earth. I can find her. But for that, I need to be alive. And I need protection—from Rogue and whatever else might come through the dimensional cracks I opened."
Scarlett stared at her, the weight of the moment pressing down on her. Could she trust Samaira? The woman who had destroyed Shellie's life, who had brought this chaos to their world? But if there was even the slightest chance of bringing Shellie back, did she have a choice?
Before she could respond, a sharp chime shattered the tense silence.
The doorbell.
Both women froze, their eyes locking in shared terror. The sound echoed in Scarlett's ears like a death knell, her pulse quickening.
"Were you expecting anyone?" Samaira whispered, her voice barely audible.
Scarlett shook her head slowly, rising to her feet. Her muscles coiled as she approached the door, every instinct screaming at her to run, to hide, to prepare for the worst. She glanced through the peephole, but the hallway beyond was empty.
"Who is it?" Samaira asked, her voice trembling.
Scarlett didn't answer. Her hand hovered over the doorknob, hesitating for a fraction of a second before she turned it and pulled the door open.
Nothing. No one.
The hallway was silent, bathed in the dim yellow light of the flickering overhead bulb. Scarlett stepped out cautiously, her eyes darting up and down the corridor. Her breath came in short bursts, her chest tight with fear.
She turned back to Samaira, who stood frozen in the doorway. "There's no one here."
But as Scarlett spoke, a cold gust of wind blew past her, carrying with it a faint, echoing whisper. It was unintelligible, but it sent a shiver down her spine.
"Close the door," Samaira urged, her voice shaking. "Please."
Scarlett hesitated for only a moment before stepping back inside and locking the door. She turned to face Samaira, her heart still racing.
"What now?" Scarlett asked, her voice tight.
Samaira didn't answer. She was staring past Scarlett, her face pale as a sheet.
Scarlett followed her gaze, her blood running cold as she saw the faint outline of a shadow against the far wall. It flickered and shifted, its form stretching unnaturally before disappearing entirely.
The room was silent, but Scarlett's mind was a whirlwind. Rogue was here—or something worse. And whatever came next, she knew there was no turning back.