His eyes widened when he saw Sebastian’s form clearly for the first time.
“You’re real?”
Sebastian’s voice echoed like distant thunder.
“You will not touch her.”
Dylan stared for half a second.
Then he laughed.
“A ghost?” he scoffed. “That’s what’s been helping you?”
Sebastian tried to push him back again, but his body flickered weakly.
His strength was fading.
Dylan noticed.
“Oh,” he said softly. “You’re weak.”
His expression turned vicious.
“Perfect.”
He shoved past the ghost and grabbed Isabelle’s arm.
“Give me the evidence!”
She struggled violently.
“No!”
The diary slipped in her grip.
Dylan reached for it—
Sebastian tried to stop him again but his hand passed through Dylan’s shoulder.
He was too weak.
“Stop fighting!” Dylan snapped.
Isabelle kicked him.
“Let me go!”
His patience snapped.
Before she could react—
SLAP.
The sound echoed through the apartment.
Isabelle stumbled backward, her cheek burning.
Sebastian roared in fury, the lights exploding in sparks.
“You bastard!” a voice shouted from the hallway.
Everyone turned.
Olivia Park burst through the door.
She ran straight toward Dylan and shoved him.
“Get away from her!”
Dylan stumbled.
“You followed her?” he snarled.
“Of course I did,” Olivia said. “Something about you always felt wrong.”
Isabelle grabbed Olivia’s arm.
“We need to go!”
Dylan lunged again.
But Olivia kicked a chair toward him, blocking his path.
“Run!”
The two women sprinted out of the apartment.
Sebastian rushed to the doorway but stopped abruptly.
An invisible barrier shimmered around the entrance.
He couldn’t leave.
“No…” he whispered.
Outside, Isabelle and Olivia ran down the staircase and burst onto the street.
Rain had begun falling over Brooklyn.
“Which way?!” Olivia gasped.
“This way!”
They sprinted down the sidewalk.
Behind them—
Footsteps.
Dylan burst out of the building.
“ISABELLE!”
Panic surged through her.
“He’s following us!”
Olivia grabbed her hand and pulled her faster.
Cars rushed past. Neon lights flickered in the wet pavement.
Back inside 307 Apartment, Sebastian watched helplessly through the window.
His fists clenched.
“I can’t leave…”
Isabelle was in danger.
And he was trapped.
His entire existence trembled with desperation.
Then he forced every ounce of power he had left outward.
A violent wind erupted down the street.
Dylan stumbled mid-stride.
“What the—”
Trash cans toppled.
Loose papers flew through the air.
“Sebastian…” Isabelle whispered breathlessly.
She felt it.
He was helping.
Even from inside the apartment.
“Keep running!” Olivia shouted.
They turned down another street.
But Dylan recovered quickly.
“You can’t escape!” he roared, chasing them through the rain.
Isabelle’s lungs burned.
Her heart pounded wildly.
But she clutched the diary tighter.
She would not let the truth disappear again.
Not after a hundred years.
Behind them Dylan’s footsteps grew closer.
Ahead, the streets of Brooklyn stretched into shadow.
And somewhere above the storm—
Sebastian watched.
Helpless.
Furious.
Praying they would survive the night.
The alley smelled like rain and old secrets.Garbage cans sagged against the brick, a single streetlamp flickered like a tired eye, and the city’s siren-sigh was distant — a soft reminder that the world kept moving, indifferent.
Isabelle pressed her back against the cold brick, the diary clutched to her chest so hard her ribs hurt. Olivia had one hand braced on the alley wall, the other gripping Isabelle’s coat like an anchor. Both women were breathing too fast.Dylan stood a few feet away, a silhouette carved in anger.
The knife in his hand caught the lamplight and slid a thin, menacing ribbon of silver through the rain.
“Give it to me,”
he said, voice low and tight.
“The diary. The locket. Now.”Isabelle’s throat felt raw. She forced her mouth to form words that did not shake.
“Never.”Dylan’s jaw ticked.“You make this harder than it needs to be,” he murmured.
“You could hand it over and forget it all. Walk back upstairs. Pretend you never opened that box. Pretend you never found out that your boyfriend’s family stole from a dead man.