Chapter 2: The Wolf in White
452 Words
The car sliced through the city like a bullet, black-tinted windows hiding the storm brewing inside. Zarek sat in silence, his jaw clenched, fingers drumming against his thigh in a rhythm Lucien recognized too well.
It wasn’t impatience.
It was fury. Controlled, leashed, ready to snap.
Lucien sat beside him, dressed in black at Zarek’s command. He could still feel the ghost of Zarek’s hands on his skin from the night before—the way they had clung like Zarek was afraid of losing him all over again. And maybe he was. Because whatever this was… it wasn’t small.
> “You’re not going to tell me where we’re going?” Lucien asked finally.
Zarek didn’t answer.
Renzo turned from the front seat, his sharp eyes flicking to Lucien. “You’ll find out soon enough. Just… stay close to him.”
Lucien swallowed hard. “Close like I’m his bodyguard?”
Renzo’s smirk was humorless. “Close like you’re the only thing keeping him from burning the world.”
---
The Tower — a skyscraper of white glass and steel, standing like a throne above the city. The kind of place that whispered money, power, and blood behind closed doors.
As the elevator rose, Zarek adjusted his cufflinks with surgical precision, like he could control chaos by straightening steel.
Lucien’s voice broke the hum of machinery. “Who are we meeting?”
Zarek’s reflection met his in the mirrored walls. Dark eyes. Deadly calm.
> “My enemy,” Zarek said softly. “And my brother.”
Lucien froze.
“What?”
Before Zarek could elaborate, the elevator doors slid open.
---
The penthouse was an empire in white—white marble, white curtains, sunlight pouring in like judgment. And standing in the middle of it, dressed in a suit so pale it almost glowed, was Alder Velenza.
Zarek’s half-brother.
The heir who disappeared ten years ago.
And now, apparently, the man everyone thought was dead.
> “Little brother,” Alder said, voice smooth as silk over a knife. “You kept my chair warm for me.”
Lucien stiffened as Alder’s gaze slid to him. Blue eyes. Almost the same shade as his own. But colder. Crueler.
> “And who,” Alder purred, “is this pretty thing?”
Zarek stepped in front of Lucien, his voice low, lethal.
> “Mine.”
Alder’s smile widened, wolfish. “Oh, good. That’ll make taking him from you so much more fun.”
---
Lucien’s breath caught. Because for the first time since meeting Zarek, he saw something new flicker in his eyes.
Not rage.
Not fear.
Something worse.
Recognition.
As if Zarek had always known this day would come.
---
- Writer
