Chapter Nine
846 Words
The hunt was a death warrant signed in expensive ink. Within the hour, the V Lord’s machinery began to grind.
“I want a name,” Voss commanded, watching the rain streak his windows like tears. “Every man she has seen. Every man who has crossed her threshold. I want the man sleeping in the bed my money paid for.”
Rino nodded, signaling the street teams. “We are combing the district. If there is a husband, he is a ghost. There is no record, no joint accounts. But a woman like that is too beautiful to be alone. Someone is providing.”
Voss’s jaw tightened. The thought of another man’s hands on Amelia, annoyed him crazily, he was pissed and furious at the same time.
“Find him. And when you do, don’t bring him to me. Just finish it.”
While shadows tightened around Amelia’s apartment, another shadow watched from the dark.
Lucien Hale sat in the blue glow of his monitors, his face a map of cold, a calculated ruin. He watched the feed from a hidden camera as black SUVs peeled away from the tower, a sneer smile pulling at his lips.
For six years, Lucien had played the long game. He still felt the chill of his mother’s shivering hands and the sting of his father’s indifference, a man obsessed with the legitimate Voss family.
Lucien did not just want Voss dead in Bonifacio, he wanted him and everything existing off him erased out of the world.
“The best part of the trap,” Lucien whispered into the cold room, “is watching the prey pull the trigger on itself.”
He had been the architect of every misery.
Voss was about to incinerate the only thing he had left to love, all while calling it justice.
In the district, the hunt became a fever.
Men in heavy coats haunted the alleys near the school. They cornered everyone that had been around her.
The report back to the tower was void, no male occupant. Neighbors claim that nobody is around her or maybe abandoned.
Voss listened, his fingers clawing into the leather of his chair. The lack of a rival didn’t soothe him, it infuriated him.
“He’s hiding,” Voss hissed, the sound of a jagged rasp. “He’s a coward hiding behind her skirts. Rino, change tactics. If we can’t find the husband, bring the wife. If she won’t give up his name with words, we’ll see if she talks while her world burns.”
“The kid too?” Rino asked, his voice wavering.
Voss looked at the gold ring on his finger, the heavy, glittering symbol of a year that was a lie. “The kid is the bait. If the husband cares about his family, he’ll show his face when we take them.”
The storm broke over the Southern District just as the first black SUV slowed to a crawl outside Amelia’s apartment.
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of cheap lavender and the metallic tang of fear. Amelia was moving with a frantic, animal grace, shoving her few belongings into a box.
She’d seen the men in the street. She knew the silence of the last three days was finally screaming.
“Mama, why are we packing?” Lila asked, clutching her wooden boat.
“It’s a surprise trip, baby,” Amelia whispered, her voice fracturing. She knelt, grabbing Lila’s shoulders, her eyes searching the girl’s face, those dark, wild eyes that were the only thing she had left of the man.
A heavy thud echoed from the hallway that scared her . Then another. The sound of a door being kicked in, but it was just from their neighbours cleaning.
Amelia grabbed the small bag she had packed and pulled Lila toward the back window that led away from the street, away from the eyes of the city.
"Lila, listen to me," Amelia whispered, her heart hammering a fast paced rhythm. "Remember the hide and seek game? It’s time to be very, very quiet."
She didn’t look back at the door or try to see if the locks held it well. She stepped out into the rain, disappearing into the narrow, dark alleys of the Southern District. She was a ghost fleeing a ghost, determined to keep her daughter safe from a war that started before the child was even born.
In the quiet of the room they left behind, the only sound was the rain against the glass and the ticking of a clock, counting down the seconds until the world realized they were gone.
She wasn't running because she was a coward. She was running because that man feels different, like trouble. The Adrian who loved white roses wouldn't have chained a school gate. The Adrian who repaired her shutters would not have sent men to bruise people and she wasn't ready to face him yet.
- Writer
