Chapter 7: Whispers in the Dark
1132 Words
Sandra
The smell of bleach clung to her skin, sharp and bitter, as she pushed the mop bucket down the hall. Every squeak of the wheels was a gunshot in her ears. Her disguise was flawless—gray coveralls, faded cap tugged low, gloves hiding the tremor in her fingers.
But her pulse? A thunderstorm.
Because behind that door was everything she had bled for. Everything she had burned for.
Liam.
Ten years. Ten years of chains, darkness, whispers of broken promises. Ten years of her heart being carved apart piece by piece. And now… just a door away.
She eased it open. The muted hum of voices drifted out—a classroom bathed in sunlight. History books open. Pens scratching. And there, near the window…
Her breath caught.
He wasn’t a boy anymore. Broad shoulders, jaw sharpening into a man’s, dark hair falling across his brow in perfect defiance. His profile hit her like a blow—so much of Stefan in that angle, but something softer. Something hers.
Sandra’s throat locked. She wanted to run, to crush him in her arms, to scream the truth until the walls shattered. But she couldn’t. One wrong move, and she’d lose him forever.
Just one word, her heart pleaded. Just hear his voice.
She stepped inside, head low, mop sliding over the polished floor. The teacher didn’t look up. Perfect. Sandra edged closer, every nerve lit with fire.
“Liam…” The name slipped like a prayer.
His head turned. Blue eyes—her blue—met hers for a fraction of eternity. Confusion flickered there, then curiosity… nothing more.
Because to him, she was no one.
And then—
The door banged open.
Two men entered, black suits, earpieces gleaming. Authority rolled off them like a storm.
“Clear the perimeter,” one barked, his gaze sweeping the room before locking on her.
Sandra froze. Her blood turned to ice.
And then she saw him.
Bradley.
---
Bradley
He’d felt it in his gut since dawn—that prickle of warning that never lied. Stefan’s son was a target. Stefan’s orders were simple: don’t let anyone near him.
Bradley Gray didn’t believe in luck. Only predators.
Which is why when he saw her—head down, cap low, a mop in her grip—every instinct roared to life. Too graceful. Too quiet. Too damn familiar.
And then she looked up.
Blue eyes like frozen fire. Cheekbones carved by war and hunger. Sandra.
Heat slammed into his veins—swift, brutal—followed by fury so sharp it made his hands curl into fists.
What the hell was she doing here?
And why the hell did it feel like every cell in his body had been waiting for this moment?
She moved closer to the boy—Liam. Her son, something inside hissed, though he didn’t know why.
Bradley didn’t wait. Didn’t think. Three strides and his hand closed around her wrist like a steel trap.
“Bathroom’s leaking,” he lied smoothly, flashing his badge at the teacher before dragging Sandra out the door.
She fought him, a hiss slicing the air. “Let go—”
“Not happening,” he growled, shoving open the nearest supply closet and hauling her inside.
The door slammed. Darkness swallowed them whole.
---
Sandra
Her back hit the shelves with a soft thud. Bottles clinked. Dust thickened the air.
And Bradley filled the space like a weapon.
“What the hell are you doing here?” His voice was low, lethal.
“I don’t owe you—”
“The hell you don’t.” His palms slammed against the wall on either side of her head, caging her in. His eyes burned green in the dim light, wild and merciless.
Her pulse spiked. She should have been afraid. She wasn’t. Because under the fury was something darker. Hotter. A spark that caught her breath on fire.
“Move,” she whispered.
“Say it like you mean it.” His voice slid over her skin like smoke, like sin. “Say it without shaking.”
Her teeth sank into her lip. Wrong. This was wrong. But when his thumb brushed her jaw, slow and deliberate, her knees weakened.
“Bradley…” Her voice fractured.
And then his mouth crushed hers.
The kiss wasn’t soft. It was war—teeth, tongues, a battle for air. Her fists tangled in his shirt, dragging him closer as his arm clamped her waist, pinning her like she was his and nothing else mattered.
A moan tore from her throat, betraying her, and he swallowed it whole with a growl that rumbled through his chest and into her bones. His hand speared into her hair, tilting her head back like a conqueror staking his claim.
Heat. Chaos. The taste of danger and sin.
When he ripped his mouth from hers, they were both shaking, their breaths colliding in the dark. His forehead pressed to hers, voice a rasp of gravel and fire.
“You’re gonna tell me everything,” he said, his grip on her jaw firm but not cruel. “Even if I have to break every rule to make you.”
Her laugh was soft, sharp, dripping with challenge. “Try me, Detective.”
His answering smile was pure wolf.
And then—voices outside.
---
“…orders from Stefan. Lock perimeter. Pull the kid now.”
Sandra froze. Her lungs seized as boots pounded past the door.
“Escort Liam. Black SUV in three. Nobody gets near him.”
Her heart stopped. No.
She lunged for the handle, but Bradley’s arm snapped around her waist, yanking her back against his chest.
“Move,” she hissed, thrashing.
“Not a damn chance.” His breath burned against her ear. “You walk out there, and they’ll eat you alive.”
“They’re taking my son!” The words ripped from her throat raw and trembling.
Bradley’s grip tightened, holding her like iron even as his own pulse thundered. “I know where Stefan lives.”
Her struggles stilled. Slowly, she turned her head, her eyes wide, wild. “What?”
His voice dropped to a lethal whisper, brushing the shell of her ear. “I know where he keeps Liam. And I’ll tell you… over dinner.”
Shock slammed into her. Fury followed like a blade. “You think this is a game?”
“No.” His gaze locked with hers, burning, unflinching. “I think it’s a war. And if you want to win, sweetheart—you’ll play by my rules.”
The door rattled as guards’ voices faded down the hall. Outside, the world kept spinning. But in the dark, a deal was struck without words—sealed in fire and shadows.
- Writer
