Two weeks before ….
Alexander finally pulled into the long, winding driveway of his mansion after a grueling day at the office. Tired and stressed, he barely had time to register the familiar silhouette of his home before he stepped out of his sleek car.
Inside, the mansion was quiet - almost too quiet. His servants had been sent home earlier, a necessary measure when his mood had soured.
He made his way to the dining room where a simple dinner was laid out on the table. It wasn't the lavish feast he was accustomed to, but tonight he just needed something quick to keep him going. As he ate in the silence, he methodically reviewed the day's documents, the clack of his pen the only sound breaking the stillness.
After finishing, Alexander retreated to his bedroom. He slipped into a soft, elegant robe and headed for the bathroom, hoping a hot shower would wash away the days tension.
The water was comforting at first, but as the steady hum of the shower filled the space, a faint, unexpected noise reached his ears - a soft rustle, like footsteps on a carpet, or perhaps a door quietly creaking open.
Alexander's eyes widened and one eyebrow arched in quiet alertness. He quickly shut off the water and wrapped in the steam and his robe, stepped out of the shower with practiced caution. The sound repeated, subtle yet distinct. His heart skipped a beat. He knew better than to ignore such a disturbance, especially in a mansion that was supposed to be empty tonight.
It suddenly clicked in his mind- he had sent all his servants home, trusting the solitude would keep distractions at bay. Now alone in his own home, he couldn't help but wonder who - or what was responsible for the sound.
Alexander's eyes narrowed as he stepped out of his room, the tension of the night still burning in his veins. He moved to the grand staircase, pausing to strain his ears in the silence. In a mansion as vast as his, even the softest sound could be a harbinger of danger. Moments later, a subtle thud echoed from the lower floor.
Without hesitation, he descended the staircase, each step measured and quiet. The mansion was dark, its corridors cloaked in shadows and the only light came from the sporadic glow of street lamps flittering through the tall windows. Suddenly he caught a glimpse - a figure, masked and clad entirely in black, moving stealthily in the dimness.
Alexander's hand instinctively reached for the rifle he had retrieved from his private locker in the staircase. Steeling himself, he advanced silently, every muscle coiled for confrontation. The intruder, unaware of the approaching danger, continued the clandestine activity near a set of heavy curtains.
Without warning, Alexander stepped in front of the intruder. The masked figure spun around in shock, his eyes widening at the sight of the cold, determined glare and the rifle leveled at him.
"Freeze," Alexander commanded, his voice low and imperious and grasping the intruders arm in a firm grip.
But the intruder acted on pure instinct - he lunged, struggling to break free from Alexander's firm grip. In the ensuing scuffle, Alexander swung his elbow sharply aiming at the intruder's side, there was a sickening crunch - a crack, perhaps a phone screen.
Seizing the moment, the intruder shoved Alexander away and before he could fully recover, the intruder whipped out a spray can. In a matter of seconds, a harsh, chemical mist filled the air, hitting Alexander squarely in the face. His vision blurred as the acrid spear burned his eyes.
Desperation spurred Alexander to action. Alexander clawed at his face, trying to wipe the stinging substance off. The intruder, seizing the chaos, fought to free himself from Alexander's grasp on his arm. With a final forceful push, the masked figure broke loose and bolted forward.
Alexander surged after him, shoving aside scattered objects and overturned furniture in his frantic pursuit. But in the labyrinthine corridors of his mansion, the intruder slipped away - vanishing into the night in plain sight.
Panting and disoriented. Alexander finally emerged from the chaos, his home in disarray around him.
His pulse pounded as he raced back to the secured vault where his most prized relics were kept. Swinging open the heavy door, he scanned the displays with mounting dread. One artifact was gone: The Obsidian Sigil - a mysterious relic imbued with centuries of dark lore and power, symbolizing the unyielding authority of the Velmonte legacy.
Alexander stormed back through the silent corridors of his mansion, his mind still reeling from the encounter. The intruder had vanished into the darkness, leaving chaos in his wake - and more importantly, the Obsidian Sigil was gone.
Once he reached his private study, Alexander paused only for moment before snatching up his secure phone, his voice, low and sharp with fury, filled with the quiet room.
"Control, this is Alexander Velmonte. I need every camera feel from the mansion- now. Someone broke in and stole the Obsidian Sigil, I want to know who broke in and stole it.
A brief pause crackled on the line before the calm voice of the facility manager came through. "Yes sir, accessing all feeds."
Alexander paced, glancing at the dark screens on his wall - mounted display. He rewatched the few frames from the incident, straining to catch any detail - a glimpse of a masked face, a stray movement - but the intruder had been careful.
"Check every sensor and log entry," he continued, his tone brooking no delay. "Determine if this was an outside job or if someone within the circle is involved. I want preliminary results before dawn."
The reply was immediate and precise. "Understood sir." We are picking up the data now.
Fury and suspicion warred behind Alexander's cold eyes. The Obsidian Sigil was more than just an artifact - it was a symbol at his family legacy and its loss is a personal affront.
After ending the call, he sank into his leather chair, gripping its arms as if trying to contain his anger. The soft hum of his home's security system filled the room, yet the silence was oppressive. His gaze lingered on the empty space where the Sigil resided.
For a long moment, Alexander simply sat there, questions raced through his mind: who had the audacity to infiltrate his home? Could it have been someone he knows? The thought churned in him like a dark promise of retribution.
He walked back to his bedroom, he slammed the door of his bedroom shut. After the struggle with the intruder, he made his way back here with a heavy heart and a sharper resolve. In his bathroom, he quickly attended to the wounds he had sustained during the fight. There was no medic team tonight - he preferred to handle these matters himself. With steady, practiced hands he cleaned and dressed the cuts on his face and arms. The sting of antiseptic and the scratch of bandages did little to dull the simmering anger within him.
Once his physical pain was subdued, he moved to his bedroom, where the soft glow of a single lamp offered scant comfort. He lay on his bed and for a moment simply stared into the darkness.
Lying in his bed, he clenched his fist tightly. He replayed the night's events in his head. Who among his trusted circle would have dared to target him like this? The idea gnawed at him.
"Could one of them have set me up?" He muttered to himself, staring at the ceiling. The silence of the room presses in on him as he struggled to piece together the clues. He has always trusted the few who surrounded him, but now doubt began to creep in. "Only a few people knew that I had the Obsidian Sigil, how could this have been leaked out? Just my facility head, Andrew and I haven't even told Juliet yet," he thought to himself.
Even as fatigue pulled at him, his mind refused to let go of the anger and suspicion. With a final clench of his fist and a low, determined murmur, Alexander closed his eyes. Sleep came slowly, but even in the fitful rest, he remained alert.
Present day…..
The dim glow of multiple monitors cast eerie shadows across the cold steel walls of Alexander Velmonte's underground facility. The air was thick with tension, a silence so heavy it seemed to press against the walls. Alexander sat stiffly in his chair, elbows resting on the polished metal table in front of him, his fingers interlocked as his pale blue eyes burned into the screen.
Andrew stood beside him, his fingers poised over the keyboard as he worked through the security footage from two weeks ago—the night the Sigil was stolen.
"This is the last angle we have from the estate's surveillance," Andrew said, his voice calm yet laced with frustration. The footage played in grainy black and white, showing the shadowed figure darting through the halls of Alexander's home.
Alexander barely blinked as he watched the scene for what felt like the hundredth time. The masked intruder was skilled—too skilled. They knew the blind spots, moved with purpose, and had the reflexes of someone trained. It wasn't a common thief. This was someone who knew what they were after.
"Rewind it," Alexander commanded, his voice cold and sharp.
Andrew obeyed without question, scrolling the video back a few frames. The footage slowed, displaying the intruder as they turned their head slightly—just enough for a faint glint of their eye to reflect against the dim light of the hallway.
Alexander leaned forward.
There it was.
Pale green eyes.
Not just any green, but an unusual shade—cool, almost translucent in the poor-quality footage.
Alexander narrowed his eyes. "Pause."
Andrew hit the spacebar. The frame froze, the intruder's profile barely visible through the mask.
"Enhance it," Alexander ordered.
"I can't do much with this resolution," Andrew muttered, fingers dancing across the keyboard as he tried to clean up the grainy image. The figure remained mostly hidden, but two details stood out—their strikingly pale green eyes and a few loose strands of hair that had escaped the mask's grip.
Long strands. Dark brown with a golden tint.
Andrew exhaled. "That's all we have. Everything else is covered."
Alexander didn't respond immediately. He simply stared at the frozen image, his mind running through possibilities like a finely tuned machine.
"Male or female?" he asked finally.
Andrew shook his head. "Too hard to tell. The build is small, but that doesn't mean anything. They were fast, but their movements were calculated—definitely trained."
Alexander leaned back, exhaling slowly. His fingers tapped against the steel surface, his thoughts dark and measured.
"Track the intruder's escape path again," he instructed.
Andrew rewound the footage, following the figure's movements from the artifact chamber to the grand staircase. The fight flashed through the screen—Alexander catching the intruder off guard, the brief struggle, the moment the intruder had sprayed him with something and fled. His jaw clenched slightly. He hated being caught off guard.
"Stop there," Alexander said as he watched himself staggering back, rubbing his burning eyes. His grip tightened on the chair's armrest. "That moment—slow it down."
Andrew slowed the footage to a near-crawl.
The intruder was escaping, but something new caught Alexander's attention.
A moment before they bolted, their head turned slightly—just for a split second.
Not out of fear.
Not out of panic.
But hesitation.
Alexander's cold gaze sharpened. That moment of hesitation—it wasn't normal. A trained thief would never second-guess their escape. It was almost as if…
They had recognized him.
His fingers stilled against the chair's armrest.
"Replay that hesitation," he said, his voice quiet but edged.
Andrew rewound the frame again, letting it play at a slower speed.
There it was.
The intruder turned, their gaze flickering toward him. The pale green eyes widened—just for a moment—before they bolted.
That was not the reaction of someone stealing from a stranger.
Alexander's lips curled slightly, though there was no humor in it.
"Interesting," he murmured.
Andrew exhaled. "Whoever this is, they know you."
Alexander didn't respond immediately. He simply sat in silence, eyes locked on the screen.
Finally, he stood.
"I want every known database searched for anyone with those eyes," he ordered. "Find me every trace of that hair color combination. Hack into whatever files you need to, cross-check every possible lead."
Andrew hesitated. "That's… going to take time. Pale green eyes aren't exactly common, but—"
"I don't care how long it takes." Alexander's voice was smooth, but his tone left no room for negotiation. "Find them."
Andrew nodded and turned back to the screen. "Understood."
Alexander exhaled slowly, his fingers flexing before he turned away from the desk. He walked toward the massive steel doors of his underground facility, his mind racing but his expression calm.
Pale green eyes.
A hesitation before fleeing.
A thief who was too skilled to be ordinary.
The pieces weren't fitting yet, but Alexander knew one thing.
He would find them.
And when he did—he would get his Sigil back.
At any cost.