No way Back
1205 Words
''You don’t belong to your old life anymore, Ivy.”
Delete.
Delete.
Delete.
Each tap of Lucien’s thumb felt like a nail sealing shut a coffin.
Ivy stared at her phone in horror.
Months of research.
Gone.
Ethan’s encrypted notes.
Gone.
Interview recordings.
Gone.
The backup files she never told anyone about—
Gone too.
Her blood turned cold.
“How did you—”
Lucien handed the phone back calmly.
“I told you,” he said softly. “I’ve been watching.”
The elevator alarm beeped again outside the office.
Closer now.
Someone was coming up.
Fast.
Rain hammered violently against the windows while red emergency lights flashed through the penthouse in slow pulses.
The entire room looked dipped in blood.
Ivy stepped backward. “You hacked my files?”
“No.”
That almost sounded worse.
Lucien loosened one cuff stained with blood from the attacker still groaning against the wall.
“I own the servers your files passed through.”
The casual way he said it made her stomach twist.
Not arrogance.
Fact.
Like owning pieces of the internet was normal for him.
The masked man suddenly laughed weakly again from the floor.
“You should run,” he rasped toward Ivy. “Before he decides you’re useful.”
Lucien didn’t even look at him.
“That was your final warning.”
A gunshot exploded.
Ivy flinched violently.
The masked man collapsed instantly.
Dead.
Silence crashed into the office.
Ivy couldn’t breathe.
Lucien lowered the pistol slowly.
Smoke curled from the barrel.
His expression never changed.
Not guilt.
Not rage.
Nothing.
Like killing people sat somewhere between breathing and checking emails on his list of daily tasks.
“Oh my God…” Ivy whispered.
Lucien finally looked at her.
Directly.
Cold gray eyes pinned her in place.
“This is the part,” he said quietly, “where intelligent people become very careful with their next decision.”
Fear crawled through her body.
Not because of the gun.
Because part of her understood exactly what he meant.
She knew too much now.
The blackout.
The attack.
The murder.
There was no clean exit from this.
The elevator beeped again.
Then voices echoed outside the penthouse.
Professional.
Controlled.
Security.
Lucien slid the gun back beneath his jacket.
“You have two options.”
Ivy’s throat tightened.
He walked toward her slowly through shattered glass and blood reflections.
Every step deliberate.
Every movement disciplined.
“Option one,” he murmured, “my security escorts you downstairs and you attempt to return to your normal life.”
The way he said normal life made it sound fictional.
“Option two?”
His eyes darkened slightly.
“You stay where I can protect you.”
Protect.
The word sounded dangerous coming from him.
Ivy laughed nervously. “Protect me from what exactly?”
Lucien stopped inches away.
“From the people willing to cut through my security to reach you.”
The office doors opened suddenly.
Three armed men entered wearing black suits and earpieces.
Not police.
Private security.
Their eyes immediately moved to the body on the floor.
No shock.
No panic.
One of them simply asked, “Cleanup team?”
Lucien nodded once.
Like they were discussing spilled wine.
Ivy stared at them in disbelief.
This world was insane.
One guard approached carefully. “Sir, the vehicle is ready.”
Vehicle?
Her stomach dropped.
Lucien’s attention remained fixed on Ivy.
“She’s coming with me.”
The guard hesitated.
Only for half a second.
But Ivy noticed.
And apparently so did Lucien.
A dangerous silence filled the room.
“You disagree?” Lucien asked softly.
“No, sir.”
The guard stepped back immediately.
Fear.
Even his own men feared him.
Ivy looked toward the office doors.
Then toward the windows.
Fifty-three floors up.
No escape.
Lucien followed her gaze easily.
“You keep looking for exits,” he said quietly.
Her pulse quickened.
“That’s because I’m trapped in a penthouse with a psychopath.”
Something almost amused flickered across his face.
“Psychopaths are impulsive.”
His eyes lowered briefly to the dead attacker.
“I’m very controlled.”
That answer terrified her more.
The security team began dragging the body from the office.
Blood streaked across the marble floor.
Ivy looked away quickly.
Lucien noticed.
He noticed everything.
“First time seeing someone die?” he asked.
“Yes!”
“Interesting.”
“What’s interesting about that?”
He stepped closer.
Close enough for her to smell smoke and rain on his suit again.
“Most people become hysterical after violence.”
His gaze held hers.
“You became observant.”
Ivy hated that he was right.
Even now her mind kept replaying details.
The attacker’s words.
Lucien’s reaction.
The hesitation from the guard.
The way everyone obeyed him instantly.
This wasn’t just a billionaire.
This was a man people survived around carefully.
Lucien reached past her suddenly.
Her breath caught.
He picked up Ethan’s photograph from the desk.
The one she had brought tonight.
Her brother smiling beside a Brooklyn food truck last summer.
Alive.
Normal.
Lucien stared at the photo for a long moment.
Something unreadable moved across his face again.
Regret?
No.
Impossible.
“You knew him,” Ivy said quietly.
Lucien looked at her.
“I knew the version of him that stopped being innocent.”
Anger sparked through her fear.
“You keep saying things like that. Either tell me the truth or stop pretending you’re mysterious.”
The room went still.
One security guard immediately looked away.
Lucien slowly tilted his head.
Studying her.
Then—
Unexpectedly—
He smiled.
Not warm.
Not kind.
Dangerous.
“Most people in this city,” he said softly, “would rather lose blood than speak to me the way you do.”
“Maybe I’m stupid.”
“No.” His gaze darkened. “Stupid people bore me.”
Something hot and unsettling moved through her stomach.
God.
What was wrong with her?
This man literally had blood on his hands.
And somehow the way he looked at her still made her heartbeat stumble.
The storm outside intensified.
Lightning illuminated Manhattan below them in fractured silver.
Lucien handed Ethan’s photograph back carefully.
Their fingers brushed.
Heat shot through her instantly.
He noticed.
Of course he noticed.
“Ivy.”
The sound of her name in his voice felt intimate.
Too intimate.
“You are standing in the middle of something much larger than your podcast.”
His eyes sharpened slightly.
“And tonight made you visible.”
Fear returned instantly.
Visible to who?
Before she could ask, Lucien’s phone vibrated.
He checked the screen.
For the first time all night—
His expression hardened.
Not cold.
Not controlled.
Dangerous.
“What?” Ivy asked carefully.
Lucien looked toward the rain-covered windows overlooking Manhattan.
“The people who came tonight weren’t supposed to find you yet.”
Her pulse spiked.
“What does that mean?”
He slipped the phone back into his pocket slowly.
“It means your brother made a mistake before he disappeared.”
Silence.
Then—
Lucien looked directly into her eyes.
“And now they think you have what he stole.”
- Writer
