Prologue
“Mommy…” the boy called, his bright blue eyes, a perfect mirror of her own, gazing up at her expectantly.
“Yes, Luke?” she said gently, encouraging him to continue as she tucked a stray strand of her dark hair behind her ear.
“Why aren’t you a soldier anymore?”
Her smile wavered, the question delving into deeper, more painful territory. Lizzie often tried to bury the memories of her old life, reluctant to confront the pieces of herself she had abandoned—the adrenaline, the purpose she once held, the warrior she used to be. She hadn’t prepared for how difficult it would be to sever that part of her identity. Even now, years later, a part of her still longed for it. But for Luke, she’d bear that loss, because she had to. She had chosen this quieter life, one where the battles were fought over mundane things—folding laundry, overdue bills, or dealing with the whispers of judgment from other moms at the park. It was a far cry from the whispers, shadows, and open fields of combat. And yet, some days, the weight of that choice felt heavier than she’d ever imagined.
“Because Mommy needs to take care of you,” she replied softly, tapping his nose to lighten the mood. “Daddy and aunt Rocky can save the world without me.”
Her words were true—Vince and her younger sister were more than capable; both strong and powerful, forged in the fires of training that pushed them past their limits—until their bones cracked, their knuckles bled, and their bodies were pushed to the brink of death, all in the name of normalizing the constant dangers that came with their lives. They had all endured it, had all become stronger because of it. But the deeper reasons—the dark memories and the sacrifices she had made—remained unspoken. For Luke’s sake, she buried them deep, pushing them down every time they threatened to rise to the surface, no matter how hard they clawed at the edges of her mind. She knew, as much as she mourned the life she had left behind, that if given the choice between it and Luke, she would choose him without hesitation. Always.
A gentle breeze stirred the air, drawing Lizzie’s attention to the white-framed glass balcony door, its curtains fluttering softly in the night’s breath. A faint creak echoed through the room as if the door itself were protesting its intrusion. Her brow furrowed. I’m sure I closed it, she thought, the memory of her meticulous routine, locking everything down, playing back in her mind. Her eyes darted to Luke, her voice tight with concern. “Sweetie, did you open the balcony door?”
Luke quickly shook his head. “No, Mommy. Andy did. Well, I did, but he asked me to,” he explained, pointing to the balcony.
Lizzie smiled as Luke animatedly talked about his imaginary friend, Andy, describing him with such detail and enthusiasm it was easy to forget he wasn’t real. She chuckled softly, playing along without a second thought. Luke didn’t have any real friends—not yet, at least—but she and Vince were doing everything they could to help him feel safe and build those connections. For now, though, Andy was his companion, and Lizzie was happy to let him have that. ““Just make sure Andy knows the door stays closed from now on. Okay?”
Luke nodded, his apology genuine. Lizzie returned a soft smile, her hand gently ruffling his golden mop of hair before pulling the blanket snug around him. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” she murmured, standing to close the door. But as she neared the balcony, a slow, creeping discomfort settled over her. The air felt wrong—too still, too heavy—pressing against her in a way that made her instincts flare. Something wasn’t right.
Their neighborhood, nestled in a small Missouri town, had always been the kind of place people dreamed of: tightly-knit homes with neatly trimmed lawns, friendly neighbors waving from their porches, and streets so quiet fences felt unnecessary. It was the sort of place where doors stayed unlocked during the day, trusting one another without a second thought.
But tonight, something felt off, as if the neighborhood’s usual calm had been replaced with a quiet that pressed too heavily against her senses. Lizzie’s instincts, sharpened by years of experience, stirred uneasily, pulling her attention to the faintest shifts in the air. The stillness wasn’t peaceful—it was charged, like the moment before a storm breaks. Her pulse quickened, and her gaze swept the familiar scene, every shadow and flicker of movement suddenly demanding her focus.
Standing at the edge of the balcony, Lizzie’s gaze swept over the quiet street below. The lamplight flickered, its glow stretching into jagged shadows across the well-kept lawns and the cars parked neatly in driveways. Through the windows of nearby houses, faint blue light flickered from TVs, hinting at families settled in for the night. Everything looked as it always did—calm, ordinary—but an inexplicable sense of foreboding hung over her, growing heavier with each passing second.
The stillness in the air felt wrong, pressing down on her with a weight that didn’t belong. It wasn’t the quiet of a peaceful night—it was deliberate, unnatural, as though the neighborhood’s calm exterior was hiding something just out of reach. Lizzie’s fingers tightened around the door handle, her grip firm as the urge to step outside and investigate tugged at her. But her instincts flared, sharp and insistent, louder than her curiosity. Her pulse quickened, a steady drumbeat of warning.
Trusting her gut, Lizzie stepped back and pulled the door shut with a sharp motion, the decisive click of the lock louder than she intended. Her hand lingered on the latch, er fingers pressing against it as though willing it to hold. She stared out at the street one last time, her sharp gaze tracing every corner, every shadow that flickered under the lamplight. But nothing moved, and that made it worse.
“Mommy, Andy says he wants to meet you,” Luke’s voice rang out, shattering the uneasy silence.
Lizzie turned slightly, her gaze lingering on the shadowed streets outside as she forced a smile. “Oh? I’d love to meet him too,” she said, her voice light and casual, though the stiffness in her shoulders betrayed the unease curling in her chest.
Luke’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Really? When can he come over?”
“Whenever he likes,” she replied absently, her words more automatic than intentional. Her gaze stayed rooted on the darkened street. The persistent chill on her skin was sharp and unsettling, almost electric, crawling along her arms and leaving her nerves taut and ready to snap.
Across the street, Lizzie spotted their elderly neighbor, Mr. Harris, shuffling under a flickering streetlight, his overly energetic terrier tugging eagerly at the leash. He raised a hand in a friendly wave, and Lizzie returned it, forcing a small smile.
She tried to tried to tell herself she was just being paranoid, that it was all her imagination, but then Luke’s next words froze her in place.
“Yay! Andy can come in now!” he cheered, his voice bubbling with excitement. “Andy, you can come in now!”
Lizzie froze, her frown deepening. An imaginary friend shouldn’t need permission to come inside, she thought, her mind spinning with questions she couldn’t quite answer. The statement echoed in her thoughts, carrying an unsettling force that didn’t feel right. Her hand moved instinctively to the amulet around her neck, the familiar weight of the protective charm grounding her, though it did little to ease the chill creeping through her.
“Luke,” she began, keeping her tone even and light despite the tightness in her chest. “Why did Andy want the door open?” she asked, careful to keep her voice steady, masking the rising fear.
“He said he wanted to see you,” Luke said, his voice calm and innocent as he pointed toward the balcony. “He said you look like someone he remembers. He was standing right there, Mommy. He’s been watching you for a long time.”
A sharp chill ran down Lizzie’s spine as Luke’s words sank in, each one landing with a jarring clarity. He was standing there. Her instincts had been right all along—something, someone, had been lurking just beyond the veil of shadows.
Her heart thundered in her chest, each beat echoing through her ribs like a drumbeat. What kind of creature needed permission to enter? What could blend so perfectly into the shadows? Her breaths grew unsteady as the truth began to crystalize, sharp and inescapable. They’d been careless—far too careless—and now whatever had been waiting in the dark was closer than she dared to imagine.
