Black Sheep

Vacationer

Victoria hesitated, her eyes lingering on the outfit laid out for her. “You thought of everything, didn’t you?” she asked, her voice soft, almost uncertain.

Lucius turned, his gaze steady as he leaned against the doorframe. “You deserve to feel normal, even after a night like this,” he said simply. “I wanted you to have that.”

She glanced at him, his words hitting her in a way she hadn’t expected. For all his darkness and cold calculation, there were moments—fleeting but undeniable—where he seemed to genuinely care. Maybe too much.

Victoria stepped toward the bed and picked up the blouse, running her fingers over the fabric. It was soft, luxurious even, a stark contrast to the chaos of the last several hours. She slipped into the skirt and blouse in silence, fastening the belt around her waist as Lucius busied himself getting dressed on the other side of the room.

When they were both ready, Lucius straightened his collar and turned to look at her. His gaze lingered for a moment, taking her in from head to toe. “You look beautiful,” he said, his voice carrying a sincerity that made her chest tighten.

Victoria looked down, smoothing the fabric of her skirt. “Thanks,” she murmured, still processing everything. She wasn’t sure how to feel, standing there in this strange oasis Lucius had created for her, as if they could pretend the outside world didn’t exist.

“Before we go.” Lucius spoke looking at her seriously.”I have managed to keep Alistair locked out so he doesn’t know what happened so we need to be quiet about this. When he comes to just be normal and I am always watching.”

Lucius stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate. “Are you ready?” he asked, offering her his hand.

“For what?” she asked, looking up at him with a mixture of curiosity and hesitation.

“To move forward,” he said simply. His eyes held hers, steady and unyielding. “Together.”

Victoria swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in. She didn’t answer right away, but after a moment, she reached out and took his hand. It felt warm, solid, and strangely reassuring.

“Let’s go,” she said softly, her voice steadier than she felt. Whatever was waiting for them outside that door, they would face it together. For better or worse.

As Victoria’s hand rested in Lucius’s, the gravity of the moment seemed to settle over her. His words replayed in her mind—"I am always watching." It was both a promise and a warning, the duality of Lucius that she was beginning to understand but could never quite predict. She wasn’t sure what lay ahead, but she knew there was no turning back now.

Lucius opened the door, leading her into the dimly lit hallway beyond. The walls seemed to echo the silence between them as they walked, their footsteps muted on the cold floor. Victoria couldn’t help but steal glances at him, his posture calm and composed, the picture of someone in control. Yet, beneath that exterior, she knew there was a storm—a storm that had carried her into this world of secrets and shadows.

When they reached the front entrance, Lucius stopped and turned to her. “Remember,” he said softly, his tone firm but not unkind, “we move forward as if none of this happened. Alistair will wake up with no idea what’s gone on. If you slip, he’ll start asking questions.”

Victoria nodded, the weight of the agreement pressing on her chest. “I understand,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lucius’s lips curved into a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Good girl. Then let’s get you home.”

The drive back was quiet, the hum of the car engine the only sound between them. Victoria stared out the window, her thoughts tangled in a web of guilt, confusion, and a strange sense of... safety. She hated to admit it, even to herself, but there was something about Lucius’s presence that made her feel protected, no matter how twisted it was.

As they pulled up to her apartment, Lucius shifted the car into park and looked at her. “You’ll be okay,” he said, his voice softer now, almost gentle.

Victoria turned to face him, her eyes searching his. “And what about you?” she asked. “Are you okay?”

Lucius chuckled, the sound low and dry. “Don’t worry about me, kitten. I’ve been through worse.”

She didn’t press further, knowing that whatever darkness he carried, he wasn’t ready to share it. Instead, she leaned over, hesitating for just a moment before pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

Lucius’s expression softened for a brief moment, a flicker of something almost human passing through his eyes. “Get some rest,” he said. “You’ll need it.”

Victoria stepped out of the car and walked to her door, feeling his eyes on her the entire way. When she turned to wave, he was already pulling away, the taillights of his car disappearing into the night.

Inside, Victoria leaned against the door, her heart pounding. She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for now, she had survived another day. And for better or worse, she wasn’t facing it alone.

Alistair stirred as the first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon, the soft rustle of waves lapping at the shore waking him from a deep, dreamless sleep. The grainy texture of sand beneath him was warm, the breeze from the ocean cool against his skin. He groaned, sitting up and rubbing the back of his neck. For a moment, he was disoriented, unsure of how he had gotten there.

Next to him, placed carefully on a driftwood log, was a steaming cup of coffee in a sturdy ceramic mug and a neatly rolled joint resting on top of a folded piece of paper. The sight brought a mix of confusion and concern. His eyes darted around the beach, but he was alone.

He reached for the note, unfolding it with cautious fingers. The handwriting was sharp and precise, unmistakably Lucius’s.

Morning, Sunshine.

Before you get too worked up—relax. I handled things last night. You don't need to know the details. Let's just say... we're square for now. Victoria is safe, and that's what matters, right?

Have the coffee, enjoy the joint. Take a moment to breathe. Consider it a favor to yourself.

We’re all doing what we need to survive.

—Lucius

Alistair stared at the note, his hands tightening around the edges of the paper. His mind raced, piecing together fragments of his last memories—Victoria’s face, her laughter, the quiet hum of the evening. And then... nothing.

He crumpled the note in his fist, tossing it aside as he glared at the coffee and joint like they were taunting him. But the anger in his chest didn’t last long; it dissolved into frustration and, finally, a hollow resignation.

Lucius had done something—again. And as much as Alistair hated the lack of control, he hated not knowing even more.

He sighed heavily, leaning back against the log. He picked up the coffee and took a sip, the bitterness grounding him. The joint remained untouched for now. He watched the waves roll in, trying to process what Lucius’s “handling” might mean this time.

The thought of Victoria crossed his mind, and a pang of guilt hit him. He didn’t know what Lucius had done to keep her safe—or what it had cost—but the feeling in his gut told him it wasn’t good.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, Alistair closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. He needed to figure out what was happening, to take back the reins of his life before Lucius’s actions spiraled out of control. But for now, he sat in silence, letting the ocean drown out the storm inside him.

Alistair sat for what felt like hours, the coffee growing lukewarm in his hand. The rhythmic crash of the waves dulled the chaos in his mind, but only slightly. His thoughts kept circling back to Victoria. Was she okay? Did she know what had happened? Did Lucius say or do something that would make her look at him differently?

The sound of seagulls overhead broke his trance. He stood up, brushing the sand from his clothes, and glanced at the crumpled note Lucius had left behind. Picking it up, he smoothed it out and stuffed it into his pocket. He couldn’t let Victoria see it—not that she needed any more reason to question who—or what—he really was.

He grabbed the untouched joint, tucking it into his shirt pocket. As much as he resented Lucius's interference, a part of him couldn't help but appreciate the gesture. Lucius always had a way of forcing Alistair to confront what he avoided, even if it was in the most unorthodox ways.

Walking toward his car, parked haphazardly near the dunes, Alistair decided he needed to check in on Victoria. Even if Lucius had "handled" everything, Alistair needed to see her face, hear her voice, make sure she was okay.