Chapter Three- He is gone
796 Words
The walk back to the apartment was much quieter than before.
Mekilda walked beside Lucian while keeping an eye on his injured leg.
"You shouldn't have done that."
Lucian glanced at her.
"Done what?"
"Fought two grown men while you have a bullet wound."
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"I've survived worse."
"That's not the point."
"It worked, didn't it?"
Mekilda rolled her eyes.
For someone who had nearly died two days ago, he was annoyingly calm.
When they reached the apartment, Lucian immediately asked,
"Can I borrow your phone?"
She hesitated.
Then handed it over.
Lucian quickly dialed a number from memory.
The call was answered almost instantly.
"Sir?"
Lucian's expression became serious.
"Mark. I'm at 24 Harley Street."
There was silence on the other end.
Then a relieved voice.
"You're alive?"
"Barely."
"Where are your guards?"
"Dead, missing, or incompetent."
Mark sounded as though he wanted to argue.
Lucian didn't give him the chance.
"Trace this phone. Come get me."
"Right away, sir."
The call ended.
Mekilda narrowed her eyes.
Sir?
Guards?
Trace the phone?
Who exactly was this man?
Lucian returned the phone.
"Thanks."
She crossed her arms.
"You're welcome."
The silence lasted only a few seconds.
Then curiosity won.
"Why were those men after you?"
Lucian looked away.
"They weren't after me."
"They shot you."
"They were after my father."
Mekilda frowned.
"The men said they were coming for him next."
Lucian laughed softly.
The sound surprised her.
It wasn't the laugh of someone who had almost died.
It was the laugh of someone who wasn't worried.
"Those idiots never learn."
"What does that mean?"
He leaned back against the couch.
"They want what belongs to him."
"What?"
"Power."
The word hung heavily in the room.
"Authority."
His eyes darkened.
"Control."
Mekilda waited for more.
None came.
Lucian clearly had no intention of explaining further.
Instead, he changed the subject.
"So, you live alone?"
Mekilda followed his gaze.
A framed photograph sat on a nearby shelf.
Her smile disappeared.
The picture showed a younger version of herself standing beside her mother.
Both were smiling.
Happy.
Carefree.
Before life became complicated.
Lucian immediately noticed the change in her expression.
"What about your parents?"
The question hit harder than she expected.
For a moment, tears threatened to appear.
She refused to let them.
Instead, she forced a small smile.
"I never knew my father."
Lucian remained silent.
"My mother raised me alone."
Her voice softened.
"She died last year."
The room suddenly felt smaller.
Lucian's eyes narrowed.
"What happened?"
"Cancer."
She said it calmly.
Too calmly.
The way people spoke when a wound hurt too much to touch.
For the first time since waking up, Lucian looked genuinely uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry."
The words were simple.
Yet somehow they sounded sincere.
Mekilda nodded.
"It's okay."
But it wasn't.
Not really.
The silence that followed felt different.
Less awkward.
More understanding.
Eventually she stood.
"You should get cleaned up."
Lucian glanced down at himself.
"Probably."
A few minutes later, she returned carrying folded clothes.
"They belonged to my cousin's older brother."
Lucian raised an eyebrow.
"Should I be offended?"
"They might actually fit you."
"Impossible."
That earned a laugh from her.
The tiny bathroom wasn't much bigger than a closet.
Yet when the hot water hit his skin, Lucian felt human again.
For the first time in days.
When he emerged wearing the borrowed clothes, Mekilda nearly laughed.
The shirt fit.
Barely.
The sleeves looked ready to surrender.
Lucian noticed her expression.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You're laughing."
"I am not."
"You are."
For a brief moment, both forgot about assassins, blood, and danger.
They were simply two people talking.
Hours later, exhaustion finally claimed them.
Mekilda retired to her bedroom.
Lucian remained on the couch.
The apartment grew silent.
---
The next morning, sunlight spilled through the curtains.
Mekilda stretched and walked into the living room.
"Good morning."
No answer.
Her smile faded.
The couch was empty.
Lucian was gone.
For some reason, disappointment settled in her chest.
She wasn't sure why.
Then she noticed an envelope resting on the table.
Beside it sat a black duffel bag.
Confused, she opened the envelope.
Inside was a handwritten note.
Thank you for saving my life.
Twice.
You gave shelter to a stranger when everyone else would've walked away.
Take the money. Consider it a small repayment.
I'll be back.
— Lucian
Mekilda blinked.
Then opened the duffel bag.
Her eyes widened.
Bundles of cash filled the entire thing.
She nearly dropped it.
"No way..."
After several minutes of counting and recounting, she finally arrived at the number.
Ten million naira.
Mekilda stared at the money.
Then at the note.
Then back at the money.
Only one thought echoed through her mind.
Who exactly had she saved?
- Writer
