Chapter 7 — The Grand Father’s War
2762 Words
Milan had never been this silent.
Not in Leonardo’s seventy years of life.
Not in all the decades he had ruled the Wilson empire.
Not even during the night he lost his son and daughter-in-law.
This silence felt different.
It felt final.
Leonardo stood in Seina’s apartment, surrounded by the soft remnants of her life — the pastel blanket thrown over the sofa, the tiny succulent she watered every morning, her half-finished sketch on the desk.
He reached out and touched the paper.
A simple drawing of an alley cat she liked.
A shaky breath left him.
His fingers trembled.
Behind him, Marco stood near the door, watching the old man carefully — as if afraid he might break apart right there.
But Leonardo did not break.
He shattered.
Quietly.
Painfully.
One piece at a time.
“Marco…” Leonardo whispered, still staring at the drawing.
“When she was a child… she used to draw cats on the walls of the palace.”
Marco didn’t speak.
“She loved animals,” Leonardo continued softly.
“Frederick… he would bring her kittens to make her laugh. Catherine would scold him, but she would be smiling too.”
A tear slipped down the old man’s cheek.
Marco looked away.
“I promised them,” Leonardo whispered, voice raw,
“I promised Frederick and Catherine on their graves… that she would be safe. That I would hide her better than anything else in this world.”
His hand clenched the edge of the table.
“And now she’s gone.”
His voice cracked.
Marco stepped forward. “Sir, we will find her—”
“Don’t,” Leonardo said sharply.
Then softer, “Don’t say that unless you can bring her back this moment.”
Marco lowered his head.
Leonardo’s breathing grew uneven.
The old man finally collapsed onto the sofa — not like a king, but like a grandfather who had lost the only piece of light left in his life.
His voice shook.
“I should never have sent her here alone.”
He wiped his face harshly.
“I should have kept her with me. Protected her myself. I should have told her who she is. I should have—”
“Sir,” Marco stepped close, kneeling next to him.
“You saved her life by sending her away. Whoever took Frederick and Catherine… they would have taken her too.”
Leonardo’s jaw tightened until it trembled.
“Yes,” he whispered.
“But now they have her.”
Marco said nothing.
Leonardo’s hands curled into fists.
“And I…”
He swallowed.
“I don’t know if she’s eating. If she’s cold. If she’s bleeding. If she’s calling for me.”
His voice broke.
That was the moment Marco had to look away — the sight too painful.
Leonardo rose suddenly.
Every part of him shaking.
“Marco.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Find him.”
Marco stiffened. “Who?”
Leonardo’s eyes went dark.
“The man who did this. The shadow I’ve been sensing all these years. The one who killed my son. The one who followed Seina. The one who took her.”
Marco hesitated. “We still don’t know who he is. No name. No face.”
Leonardo turned, and for the first time, Marco saw something terrifying in the old man’s eyes:
Murder.
Cold. Calculated. Inevitable.
“Then start digging up the graves,” Leonardo growled.
“All of them. Dig until you find the demon who crawled out of the Wilson blood.”
Marco swallowed.
“Yes… Your Grace.”
The Wilson European Command was not a building.
It was a fortress.
Hidden beneath an old banking district in London, built like a military bunker, secured with technology that governments envied.
When Leonardo entered, every guard on the main floor stood at attention.
Not because he demanded it.
Because the look on his face said:
Someone is going to die.
Marco walked beside him, rapidly briefing as they descended in the private elevator.
“We’ve alerted all branches across Europe. Every embassy contact has been notified discreetly. Internal security teams are on standby.”
“That isn’t enough,” Leonardo said.
Marco hesitated. “We’ve also activated the High-Alert Board.”
Leonardo’s steps faltered for half a second.
The High-Alert Board had not been activated in 21 years — not since the night Frederick and Catherine died.
“And?” Leonardo asked.
“They agreed unanimously. Code Black is now in effect.”
Leonardo exhaled, the air trembling with his rage.
Code Black meant:
· unrestricted access
· unlimited financial resources
· no political boundaries
· the Wilson empire entering full war protocol
No one dared speak in the corridors as Leonardo walked.
Some bowed their heads.
Some stepped out of the way.
Some simply froze.
The king had awakened.
And he was furious.
The War Room was shaped like an oval.
A long glass table in the center.
Screens covering the walls.
Satellite feeds.
Maps of Milan.
Encrypted messages.
Traffic patterns.
CCTV grids.
The moment Leonardo stepped in, the room fell silent.
Executives.
Security chiefs.
Intelligence analysts.
Financial strategists.
Private military consultants.
All of them waited.
Leonardo didn’t sit.
He stood at the head of the table.
“Where is she?” he demanded.
No one answered.
He slammed his cane onto the table — the sound echoed like thunder.
“WHERE. IS. SHE?”
Marco stepped forward.
“We traced her last signal to a secondary alley camera. After that, a black van left the area. No plates. No traceable route.”
Leonardo’s voice was ice.
“You lost her.”
Marco lowered his head.
“Yes.”
Someone in the corner whispered, “We failed His Grace—”
Leonardo’s gaze snapped toward the voice, sharp as a blade.
“You failed Seina,” he corrected.
“Your failure is a minor inconvenience. Hers is a matter of life and death.”
Everyone went silent again.
One of the intelligence officers, Maddox, approached with a tablet.
“We found something,” he said carefully. “Something… disturbing.”
Leonardo’s heartbeat thudded once.
“Show me.”
Maddox tapped the screen, and an image enlarged on the wall.
A woman.
Dark coat.
Cap pulled low.
Walking away from the alley.
A shadow behind her.
Her face wasn’t clear…
But the walk…
The frame…
Marco cursed under his breath.
“That’s one of the Shadow Team bodyguards,” he said.
“One of the ones assigned to Seina.”
Leonardo’s face hardened.
“She was there?”
“Yes,” Maddox said.
“And she walked away. Alone.”
Leonardo’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
“Replay it.”
The footage looped.
The guard walking away.
Fast.
Head down.
Not looking back.
Marco’s voice was tight.
“She was running. She knew danger was close.”
Leonardo leaned forward, eyes cold.
“She didn’t warn Seina.”
Marco swallowed.
“No…”
Leonardo’s fingers tightened on his cane.
“Find her,” he said.
His voice low enough to freeze the room.
“Find her now.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Another officer, Luis, spoke next.
“Sir, there’s another anomaly.”
Leonardo turned slowly.
Luis displayed a map.
“These locations—Milan, Prague, Vienna, Zurich—over the last six months… five separate attacks happened.”
Leonardo frowned.
“Attacks?”
“Yes. Small teams disappeared. High-profile disappearances. All connected to the Wilson empire.”
Leonardo’s expression changed.
He leaned closer.
In a whisper:
“…someone was clearing my board.”
Luis nodded.
“Yes, sir. Someone has been removing every person tied to your protection network.”
Marco stiffened.
“This wasn’t random.”
Luis projected new data.
Each location.
Each disappearance.
Each Shadow Team member gone.
One by one.
Silent.
Precise.
Methodical.
Someone had been preparing for this day for a long time.
Leonardo felt cold crawl up his spine.
A name surfaced in his mind — not a person, but a phantom:
The shadow he had feared for decades.
“…Adrian’s legacy,” he whispered.
Marco looked up sharply.
“Sir?”
Leonardo’s voice was hoarse.
“Find if Adrian fathered a child.”
Marco froze.
“Your brother? That’s impossible, sir—there’s no record—”
“There wouldn’t be,” Leonardo said coldly.
“Adrian hid everything.”
Maddox typed quickly.
Broke through birth records.
Encrypted files.
Hospital logs.
Then—
“Sir…”
He went pale.
“There was a child.”
The War Room stopped breathing.
“Born in secret,” Maddox continued.
“Mother died early. Child vanished into the system. No foster records. No adoption. No school admissions.”
Leonardo steadied himself on the table.
“What name?”
Maddox swallowed.
“No official name. Only a coded reference from one file…”
He enlarged the document.
And Leonardo saw it.
One line.
One signature.
One truth he had spent 40 years missing.
Adrian Thorne Wilson — illegitimate son registered only as ‘Lucian’.”
The air tightened.
Marco whispered:
“Sir… that means…”
Leonardo closed his eyes.
Then opened them.
And the room felt twenty degrees colder.
“It means,” Leonardo said,
“the monster stalking my family…”
He inhaled.
“…has my brother’s blood.”
Leonardo straightened.
All grief vanished.
All softness died.
Only a king remained.
“Listen carefully,” he said.
Every head lifted.
“Activate all European branches. Shut down borders discreetly. Freeze suspicious accounts. Sweep for underground networks.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Place a bounty on Lucian Thorne Wilson. Dead or alive.”
Gasps filled the room.
“Sir?” Marco whispered.
“That has never been done for family—”
Leonardo glared at him.
“He is not family.
He is the disease that murdered my son.”
Silence.
“And now,” Leonardo said slowly,
“he has taken my granddaughter.”
The table vibrated slightly — Leonardo had tightened his grip so hard, the glass creaked.
“This ends,” he whispered.
“Today.”
Far from Milan.
Far from London.
Across borders that police and governments never crossed…
A room sat in darkness.
Not dirty.
Not chaotic.
Not b****y.
Just dark.
Too dark.
And too quiet.
The kind of quiet that screams.
A metal chair stood in the center.
A single chain dangled from the ceiling.
A soft lamp flickered behind a tinted glass wall.
And in that faint light…
Seina Wilson sat curled on the cold floor.
Her wrists tied.
Her breath trembling.
Her mind fogged.
Her cheeks stained with dried tears she didn’t even remember shedding.
Her heart pounding as if trying to escape her chest.
But she wasn’t alone.
Someone else was in the room.
Watching.
Always watching.
Seina didn’t know his name.
But he knew hers.
He had whispered it for three months in the darkness:
“Seina…”
And even the way he said it made her bones freeze.
Lucian Thorne Wilson leaned back in his chair, legs crossed, a soft amused smile on his lips.
He wasn’t what monsters were supposed to look like.
He wasn’t disfigured.
He wasn’t unclean.
He didn’t snarl or growl.
He was… elegant.
Devastatingly composed.
Sharp suit.
Silver watch.
Dark hair neatly brushed back.
Eyes the color of dead winter.
Calm. Almost gentle.
And that’s what made him terrifying.
Because monsters shouldn’t look this human.
Lucian lifted a glass of red wine, swirling it lazily as he watched Seina through the tinted glass, his reflection merging with her trembling form.
“Beautiful little bird,” he murmured.
“You still have some fight left. Impressive.”
His voice was soft.
Too soft.
Too patient.
A voice that could convince anyone he was kind — right before he broke them.
A knock came on his door.
He didn’t look away from Seina.
“Enter.”
His subordinate stepped inside, pale and anxious.
“Sir… Code Black has been activated in the Wilson Empire.”
Lucian smirked.
“Of course it has.”
“They’re hunting you.”
“Good.” He clicked his tongue in amusement. “Let them run. It keeps them youthful.”
The man swallowed.
“T-The entire European network is on high alert. We should move her—”
Lucian raised a finger.
The man fell silent instantly.
“You are worried,” Lucian said softly.
“But I am not.”
He stood, adjusting his cuffs.
“Leonardo is old. Slipping. Panicking. He always reacts emotionally when it comes to her. It is his greatest weakness.”
He approached the glass slowly, like a predator approaching a cage.
“And her…”
He exhaled softly as Seina shivered.
“She is the empire’s greatest treasure.”
His smile deepened.
“And its greatest crack.”
The subordinate hesitated. “Sir… do you want us to sedate her again?”
Lucian’s eyes sharpened.
“No. Let her stay awake.”
Seina looked up at that moment — sensing something, someone — though she couldn’t see him behind the tinted wall.
Her eyes were red.
Wet.
Confused.
Lucian leaned closer to the glass, voice a quiet whisper only he could hear:
“Yes… look up, little one.”
His fingers tapped the barrier.
“The fear in your eyes…”
He inhaled deeply, as if savoring it.
“…is exquisite.”
The subordinate stepped closer.
“Sir… the Wilson empire issued a bounty on your name. Dead or alive.”
Lucian laughed.
A low, dangerous, amused laugh.
“Leonardo wants me dead?”
He grinned.
“I hurt him deeply, then.”
“He knows about your existence.”
Lucian’s smile vanished instantly.
Not anger.
Not fear.
Just calculation.
“So he finally found the file.”
“Yes, sir.”
Lucian tilted his head.
“Interesting. Took him long enough.”
His fingers brushed the glass again.
Seina flinched — even though she couldn’t see him.
Lucian whispered:
“I wonder… how he reacted when he learned his sainted brother had a son.”
The subordinate looked terrified.
Everyone feared Lucian.
But the worst fear came when he was calm.
“Do we prepare for retaliation, sir?”
Lucian sighed softly.
“Of course. But first…”
He pressed a button.
A small speaker crackled inside Seina’s room.
Her head jerked.
She froze.
The chains rattled.
“Good morning, Seina,” Lucian’s voice purred.
She whimpered softly, her throat sore.
Lucian smiled.
“There it is…”
His voice grew softer.
“…that sound I love.”
She curled into herself.
He continued:
“Your grandfather is searching for you.
He is losing his mind.
He is tearing apart continents for you.”
Her tears slipped silently.
“And yet…”
Lucian’s voice deepened.
“…he will not find you.”
Seina shook her head weakly.
“No… p-please…”
Lucian’s smile widened, predatory and slow.
“There it is again.”
His voice dropped to a chilling whisper.
“Beg for me, little bird.”
Seina squeezed her eyes shut, refusing.
Lucian’s jaw flexed.
“Stubborn,” he murmured.
“Just like your father.”
The subordinate stiffened.
“Sir—”
Lucian cut him off with a raised hand.
“I should thank you, Seina,” he said smoothly.
“Your disappearance is causing chaos. Panic. Collapse.”
He exhaled, almost blissful.
“I have waited twenty years for this moment.”
His eyes glittered.
“And there is only one man in this world who might interfere.”
The subordinate whispered:
“Kendrick Peterson.”
Lucian’s smile sharpened.
“Yes. The boy who escaped the Peterson snake pit. The man who built an empire without legacy. Cold. Powerful. Untouchable.”
He turned away from the glass.
“Bring him to Europe.”
The subordinate blinked.
“Sir? W-Why?”
Lucian’s smile deepened.
“Because I want to see what the world’s coldest king does…”
He glanced back at Seina.
“…when the one thing that can melt him is in my hands.”
Lucian finished his wine and set the glass down.
“Move her,” he commanded softly.
“Tonight.”
“To where, sir?”
His eyes gleamed with a silent, terrifying promise.
“To a place where even death will struggle to find her.”
He walked out of the room, hands in his pockets, calm as a man strolling through a garden.
Behind him, Seina trembled on the cold floor.
The door clicked shut.
And the monster faded into the shadows.
- Writer
