The man in the shadows
612 Words
Chapter Seven: The Man in the Shadows
Saraphina had always trusted her instincts.
It was the only reason she had survived in a house full of snakes. Her stepmother's venom, her father's silence, her sister's spite — she had learned to move quietly, speak sharply, and never let her guard down.
But tonight, her instincts whispered something different.
They whispered: Follow him.
It was past midnight when Lucian left. No guards. No driver. Just a sleek black car and a man who didn’t glance back once as he disappeared into the city.
Saraphina was already waiting.
She slipped out of the east wing wearing all black — leggings, boots, hoodie — the opposite of her usual elegance. She borrowed one of the motorcycles hidden beneath the estate’s garage, its engine silent as a secret. Tracking him wasn’t hard. His license plate was registered under a shell company. She’d seen it once. Memorized it.
She told herself this wasn’t about trust.
This was about truth.
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The car stopped at an old warehouse on the edge of the city — far from the glittering towers and wine-stained luxury Lucian called home. The air here smelled like oil and blood.
She parked a block away, heart racing.
Lucian slipped inside the warehouse like a ghost. She waited ten minutes before approaching — slow, careful, silent.
Inside, she stayed in the shadows, her back pressed to the wall as she peered through a broken glass pane.
Then she saw him.
Not Lucian the CEO. Not her cold husband.
This was someone else.
This man moved like a weapon. Dressed in black, a blade strapped to his hip, gloves pulled over his hands. He stood before another man — tied to a chair, bleeding from the mouth, terrified.
Lucian didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t shout.
He spoke so calmly, it chilled her to the bone.
“You sold her location for cash,” he said. “You traded a child’s life for money. Did you think no one would notice?”
The man sobbed. “I didn’t know she’d die, I swear—”
Lucian pressed the blade to the man’s neck.
“I did.”
Saraphina’s heart dropped.
There was no hesitation in him. No mercy.
Just cold execution.
She stumbled back, hand over her mouth. She had come for answers. She had found death.
She turned to run—
—but tripped, a piece of rusted metal scraping across the floor.
The noise echoed like a scream.
Lucian’s head whipped toward the sound.
Their eyes met — through the broken window.
And in that moment, the world stopped.
His eyes widened, not in surprise… but in something colder.
Realization.
Then anger.
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Twenty minutes later, she slammed her bedroom door behind her, chest heaving.
She had driven like a madwoman. No helmet. No breath. Just panic.
He knew. He saw her. He knew.
She locked the door.
But it didn’t matter.
Because two seconds later, the doorknob turned anyway.
Lucian stepped inside like he owned the darkness. His shirt was stained. His gloves gone. His eyes — pure steel.
Saraphina backed up.
“You kill people,” she whispered.
“Yes,” he said simply.
“You tortured that man.”
“I did worse.”
She stared at him, voice shaking. “What are you?”
Lucian walked forward until he stood directly in front of her.
“The man your father hired once,” he said quietly. “The one who was never supposed to know the truth.”
“What truth?” she asked.
He leaned in, his breath brushing her skin.
“That your family killed my sister.”
- Writer
