Chapter 3: The Brother’s Smile
564 Words
Lucien had never been in a room that felt this beautiful and this wrong.
The penthouse glowed like a dream, all glass and white marble, but the men standing in it turned beauty into something sharp. Alder leaned against the long table like a king holding court, his white suit unwrinkled, his smile wicked.
Zarek stood across from him, every muscle coiled like a predator ready to pounce.
Lucien hovered just behind Zarek, the air around him electric.
> “Ten years,” Alder said, his voice dripping nostalgia and venom. “Did you miss me, baby brother?”
Zarek’s jaw tightened. “You should have stayed dead.”
Alder laughed softly, a sound that didn’t belong in daylight. “And you should have known better than to think you could keep him in the dark.”
His eyes flicked toward Lucien.
> “What do you want?” Zarek asked, voice low enough to crack the glass.
Alder tilted his head. “Everything that was mine. Everything that should have been mine. And now? You’ve given me something even sweeter to take.”
Lucien’s stomach knotted. He hated the way Alder looked at him—like he was a prize, a pawn, and a promise all at once.
> “He’s not yours,” Zarek growled.
Alder smirked. “Not yet.”
---
The meeting spiraled like smoke. They didn’t talk business. They didn’t talk peace. They traded threats dressed as poetry.
Lucien stood silent, his pulse hammering, until Alder moved.
Slowly. Gracefully.
He walked around the table like a lion circling prey, his shoes whispering against marble. He stopped in front of Lucien, close enough that Lucien could smell the cologne—sharp, clean, expensive. Like power bottled.
Alder reached out, brushing a strand of Lucien’s hair back.
> “Beautiful,” Alder murmured. “You don’t look like someone who belongs in the shadows.”
Zarek moved so fast it was a blur—his hand clamped around Alder’s wrist, steel and fury in the grip.
> “Touch him again and I break your arm,” Zarek hissed.
Alder smiled. “Careful, little brother. Every king needs an heir. And if you’re not careful, he might choose me.”
Lucien’s breath caught.
> “What is that supposed to mean?” he asked before he could stop himself.
Alder leaned closer, his voice like a secret meant to poison.
> “Ask Zarek what he did to wear this crown.”
---
The words lingered like smoke as they left the penthouse, Zarek’s grip on Lucien’s hand almost bruising.
> “What did he mean?” Lucien demanded when they were alone in the elevator.
Zarek didn’t answer. Didn’t look at him.
Lucien grabbed his arm. “Zarek—”
The elevator doors opened, and Zarek walked out like the question never existed.
Lucien stayed frozen for three seconds.
Then whispered to himself:
> “What the hell did you do, Zarek?”
---
Elsewhere — Alder’s Lair
Alder poured himself a drink, the city lights bleeding gold behind him.
“Do you think he believed you?” his associate asked.
Alder smirked, swirling the glass.
> “It doesn’t matter. Truth or lie—doubt is the sharpest knife.”
He raised his glass, eyes glinting like frost and fire.
> “And I just stabbed them both.”
- Writer
