Chapter 5: The Night of Terror
The moon hung low over Serenity Isle, casting its silvery light across the tranquil beach. The gentle sound of waves lapping against the shore served as the perfect lullaby, lulling Miguel and Aubree into a peaceful sleep. The villa, with its open windows and soft breezes, felt like a cocoon of safety, a world away from the threats and stresses of their lives back home.
Miguel stirred slightly in bed, instinctively reaching out for Aubree. Her warmth and presence beside him were always reassuring. Even in sleep, her gentle breathing was a reminder that they were together, that they were safe. But tonight, something felt different. A nagging unease tugged at the edges of his consciousness, stirring him awake.
He blinked groggily in the dark, the unfamiliar room still not completely comfortable despite the days they’d spent here. He could hear the distant crash of waves, but there was something else a sound that didn’t belong. Faint, almost imperceptible, but enough to set his heart racing. The sound of footsteps outside the villa.
Miguel tensed, his senses sharpening as he tried to determine whether it was just his imagination. But then, there it was again the soft crunch of sand underfoot, followed by the faintest creak of wood as the front door was pushed open.
Miguel’s heart pounded in his chest as he carefully slipped out of bed, trying not to wake Aubree. His mind raced, thinking about the security protocols they’d discussed with Lydia. The island was supposed to be safe, isolated no one should have been able to find them here. But the footsteps outside were unmistakable now, growing closer, more deliberate.
He tiptoed toward the door, his breath shallow, reaching for his phone on the nightstand. But as his fingers brushed the device, the door to their bedroom burst open with a deafening crash.
Miguel barely had time to react before a shadowy figure lunged at him, pinning him against the wall with a brutal force. He struggled, adrenaline surging through his veins as he tried to break free, but the intruder was too strong, too prepared.
"Who are you?!" Miguel gasped, his voice hoarse with fear and anger.
The intruder didn’t answer. Instead, a low, guttural laugh filled the room, sending a chill down Miguel’s spine. In the dim light, he could make out the glint of metal a gun, pressed against his chest.
Aubree, startled awake by the noise, bolted upright in bed.
"Miguel?" she called out, her voice trembling with confusion and fear. But before she could fully comprehend what was happening, another figure emerged from the shadows, moving swiftly toward her.
"Aubree, no!" Miguel shouted, his voice thick with desperation as he fought against his captor, but his movements were quickly stilled by a sharp punch to his stomach, knocking the wind out of him.
The second intruder grabbed Aubree by the arm, yanking her out of bed and onto the floor. She cried out in pain as she hit the ground, her eyes wide with terror.
"Miguel!" she screamed, reaching out for him, but she was silenced by the cold barrel of a gun pressed to her temple.
Miguel’s heart twisted in his chest, a visceral, primal fear taking over.
"Please," he begged, his voice cracking.
"Please, don’t hurt her. Whatever you want, take it just leave her alone!"
The first intruder, a towering figure with a scar running down the side of his face, sneered down at him.
"It’s too late for that, doctor," he said, his voice cold and unfeeling.
"You and your wife should’ve known better than to cross Clayton De Luca."
Miguel’s blood ran cold as the realization struck him. This wasn’t just a random attack this was Clayton’s revenge. The nightmare he had feared, the one they had tried to escape, had followed them to this paradise. "No," he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Please, she had nothing to do with this. Let her go!"
The man with the scar smirked, leaning in closer.
"Do you think De Luca cares about that? He wanted you to suffer, and that’s exactly what you’re going to do."
Miguel’s vision blurred with tears of rage and helplessness as he watched the second intruder force Aubree to her knees, the gun still pressed against her head. "Aubree!" he cried out, his voice breaking. "I’m so sorry, I".
Before he could finish, the man with the scar raised his gun and brought it down hard on Miguel’s head, sending him crashing to the floor. The world spun around him as pain exploded in his skull, and he barely registered the sound of Aubree’s sobs, her pleading voice a distant echo in his ears.
"Please," Aubree begged, her voice trembling with fear.
"Please don’t do this. We’re just doctors. We were trying to help…"
The second intruder, his face obscured by a black mask, didn’t respond. Instead, he cocked the gun, the ominous click reverberating through the room like a death knell.
Miguel tried to push himself up, his vision swimming with dark spots, but his limbs felt like lead. Every movement sent waves of pain through his body, and the strength he had left was slipping away. "No, no, no…" he muttered, his voice barely audible as he tried to crawl toward Aubree.
And then, in one horrifying moment that seemed to stretch into eternity, the masked man pulled the trigger.
The gunshot echoed through the villa, shattering the night’s silence with a deafening roar. Miguel’s heart stopped as he watched Aubree’s body jerk violently, her eyes wide with shock as the bullet tore through her skull. Blood sprayed across the floor, and she crumpled to the ground, her body limp and lifeless.
"Aubree!" Miguel’s scream tore through the night, a sound of pure, unadulterated agony. He scrambled toward her, his hands trembling as he reached for her, but another gunshot rang out, and a searing pain exploded in his side.
He gasped, his breath catching in his throat as he felt the warmth of his own blood spreading across his shirt. The world around him began to fade, the edges of his vision darkening as his strength ebbed away. But even as the darkness closed in, his thoughts were consumed by one thing Aubree.
With the last of his strength, he reached out to her, his fingers brushing against her cold, bloodied hand. "Aubree…" he whispered, tears streaming down his face as he collapsed beside her.
The world around him faded to black, and the last thing he saw before losing consciousness was the lifeless form of his beloved wife, the woman he had sworn to protect, lying motionless in a pool of blood.
---
When Miguel awoke, the world was a blur of pain and confusion. The bright light overhead burned his eyes, and every part of his body ached with a deep, throbbing agony. He blinked, trying to make sense of his surroundings, but all he could see were white walls and a blurry figure hovering above him.
"Miguel? Can you hear me?"
The voice was soft, familiar, and filled with concern. He tried to focus, tried to remember what had happened, but his thoughts were scattered, disjointed. "Aubree…" he croaked, his throat dry and raw.
The figure moved closer, and as his vision cleared, he recognized Lydia, the caretaker of the villa. Her face was pale, her eyes red rimmed with tears. "Oh, thank God," she whispered, relief flooding her voice. "You’re awake."
Miguel tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in his side forced him back down. He winced, his hand instinctively reaching for the bandages that covered his wound. "What… what happened?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Lydia’s expression darkened, and she hesitated before answering. "You and Aubree were attacked… It was terrible, Miguel. We found you both in the villa, covered in blood. We… we thought you were both gone."
Miguel’s heart skipped a beat as the memories of the night came rushing back  the intruders, the gunshots, Aubree… "Aubree," he whispered, his voice trembling with fear. "Where is she? Is she…?"
Lydia’s face crumpled, and tears welled up in her eyes.
"She’s alive," she said, her voice shaking. "But… she’s in a coma, Miguel. They shot her in the head. The doctors are doing everything they can, but…"
Miguel felt the world collapse around him. The words hung in the air like a death sentence.
"No," he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. "No, this can’t be happening…"
Lydia reached out to touch his arm, trying to comfort him, but he barely felt it. His mind was consumed with the image of Aubree lying motionless on the villa floor, blood pooling around her.
"Where is she?" he demanded, his voice rising in desperation.
"I need to see her!"
"You’re in no condition to move," Lydia said gently, her voice filled with sorrow.
"You’re still recovering from your injuries. But I’ll take you to her as soon as you’re able, I promise."
Miguel’s chest heaved with the effort to breathe, the pain of his wound dwarfed by the agony tearing at his heart.
"She can’t die, Lydia,".