Chapter3
1204 Words
[Third Person – Thomas Kade]
Kade didn’t shout. The crimson glow of his eyes said everything.
She stood trembling in the fogged doorway, towel clutched to her chest, the edges soaked and barely holding. She couldn't breathe. Not just from the steam, but the way he looked at her—like she was already dead and buried in his mind.
There was something scary in his silence, like a beast starved too long beneath his skin.
“Do you know,” he murmured, voice steady and slow, “what you just caused, and the consequence that follows?”
“Who sent you? Give me names and I might consider sparing your little worthless life.”
Elara tried to speak. “I… I honestly didn’t mean to...”
“You picked the lock? Or was it just luck?” He took a step forward, and her feet stumbled back involuntarily. “Was it your idea to crash the bond night? You sing for fun or for show?”
Her lips parted in panic. “I thought it was my room. I swear, I didn’t know....”
“You walked into my suite, I of all people in this city,” he cut her off, voice flat. “Stripped. Sang. Showered like you owned the place?”
“I was drunk—”
He tilted his head, as if that amused him. “And now you’re sober enough to regret it. Convenient.”
Her eyes darted toward the bed. His shirt. A sleek pistol resting beside it.
Kade followed her gaze. In one smooth, slow motion, he spun toward the bed, toward the sleek black pistol lying beside his open jacket.
But she already anticipated that movement, Elara didn’t wait.
She moved before his fingers reached the weapon, heart leaping up her throat. She spun for the door, yanked it open so hard the hinges groaned, and darted into the hall, her bare feet slapping against the marble. The towel nearly slipped as she ran.
The slam of the door echoed through the corridor like a gunshot.
Kade didn’t chase. He stood there, jaw locked, chest rising and falling like a caged thing was clawing under his ribs. The rage didn’t explode. It simmered, boiling slow and black beneath his skin. Then a laugh escaped him, not amusement, but something dry and bitter.
“She ran,” he muttered, voice low and dangerous.
“Naked. Dripping. Like a damn cartoon. But sadly, fleeing is different from escaping.”
He took one long breath in. Then turned toward the window, where the skyline of New Vespera glimmered like a thousand tiny lies.
The door opened again, this time with precision.
Lucien stepped inside, flanked by two sharp-dressed men in muted suits. His expression was unreadable. Tall, clean-shaven, and suited in ash grey with steel buttons, the consigliere adjusted his cufflinks as he glanced at the room—the empty bathroom door, the broken silence, the untouched pistol—then raised a brow.
“What happened here, boss? You good?”, he asked with concern etched on his visage.
“Did you see her?” he asked calmly.
Lucien nodded. “The girl. Wrapped in a hotel towel. Running like her life depended on it.”
“It should,” Kade muttered. Then he turned around. “Find her.”
Lucien didn’t hesitate. “Name?”
“I don’t have one.”
Lucien smiled faintly. “Not a problem.”
Immediately, he reached into his inner coat pocket, pulled out a phone, and made a single call.
“Floor seven. Rooms 700 through 710. Access hotel footage. Cross-check with guest names.” Lucien said smoothly into the line. “Pull all check-in data under female guests tonight. Cross-reference faces. Highlight anyone escorted by the Alpha Prince’s crew.”
Behind him, one of the men already had a laptop open, fingers tapping rapidly. Within seconds, the girl appeared on screen, drunken, swaying, laughing with two other girls in the hallway.
Lucien watched, calm as stone. “There.”
He tapped the screen as she was left at door 702, fumbling with a key, confused but smiling.
“Name?”
“Running facial now,” the tech replied.
Seconds passed and then a ping.
Elara John. Age: 23. Unmated.
Father: John Arlo John. Registered at Blood Den Casino. Heavy debt.
Lucien looked up. “Her father’s one of ours.”
Kade turned slowly, eyes dark with something worse than fury.
“John?” he asked. “The old mutt who tried to bribe his way out of a lost bet?”
Lucien nodded. “Lost three properties to us last year. Currently owes the Blood Den five hundred thousand marks.”
Kade’s smile vanished.
“Five hundred grand?”
“Yes, sir. I warned that i***t to stay off our tables,” he muttered. “He’s not even pack. Just a leech feeding on borrowed luck.”
Kade exhaled sharply through his nose. Then crossed the room, grabbed his shirt off the dresser, and pulled it over his shoulders, buttoning it with sharp, angry tugs.
“Then we start there. Bleed him dry. I want the city to hear him scream through receipts.”
Lucien tucked the tablet into his coat. “And his daughter, do you want me to deal with her?”
Kade paused.
His eyes flicked up, cold and calculating.
“No,” he said after a moment. “The code says we don’t kill women, unless they are armed”.
Lucien’s brows arched slightly. “Even ones who ruin political alliances?”
Kade’s jaw twitched. “Regardless, we live by the rules”.
He turned slowly toward the window again, staring into the city like it owed him something.
“That girl just cost me a mating bond with Isabelle Cross. Princess of the Eastern Claw. Six years, Lucien. Six f*cking years I’ve danced around those uptight mutts, playing nice, hosting dinners, gifting emeralds their warriors didn’t deserve, just so I could bring peace between rogue and bloodline.”
He turned back around.
“And tonight was the final seal.”
Lucien didn’t speak. He knew better.
“If we had bonded,” Kade continued, voice low, “that alliance would’ve shifted the balance of the inner city. Packs would’ve bent.
Borders would’ve opened. I would’ve finally had leverage to make the Syndicate back off.”
“But instead,” Lucien finished softly, “a naked girl took a bath in your suite.”
“You still want her back?”, he added.
Kade didn’t answer. He lit a cigarette, watching the embers glow faintly in the dim.
“I don’t know what I want,” he said after a while. “But I know what I’ll do.”
He glanced at Lucien. “Start with the father. Loud and public. Let the city know the Blood Den doesn’t forget.”
Lucien straightened, slipped the tablet back into his coat, and turned toward the door. “Consider it done.”
The others followed silently.
Kade closed his eyes. Let the smoke coil up around him.
“Elara John,” he whispered to the dark.
“Let’s see how far you run.”
- Writer
