Burning Hearts

Chapter One

On the twenty-seventh floor of Carter Enterprises, night had already crept through the windows, swallowing the city’s glowing horizon. Most of the offices were dark, save for one, where a faint bluish light spilled out. The glow of a desk lamp mingled with the screen's light, illuminating the still figure of a woman who sat almost motionless—yet completely focused.

Andromeda Carter, the only daughter of the Carter family and head of the company’s graphics division, had a habit of working overtime. Not because she liked it. But because she had to. Elijah—her older brother—had left an hour and a half ago, naturally tossing a final line over his shoulder: “I hope the presentation is ready by morning.”

The unspoken message: If it’s not, it’s your fault. As always.

Andromeda was used to it. She’d grown up with expectations wrapped around her like chains. In the Carter family, no one asked if you were okay. They only asked: Are you useful?

Her long black hair was tied in a tight bun to avoid distractions. She wore a black pantsuit with a crisp white blouse—flawless, elegant, distant. Every movement she made was precise, even now, when most people were at home sipping wine and watching their favorite shows. She, on the other hand, was still hunched over the monitor, adding the final lines to a 3D concept design for a luxury car project.

The computer hummed softly as it processed the render, and Andromeda leaned back for a moment. Her shoulders ached, and there was a dull pulse in her wrist. She massaged it, cracked her fingers. Just a few more minutes, and it would be done.

Then… something moved.

The door handle turned slowly.

Her eyes snapped toward the darkened doorway. She glanced at the clock. 10:43 PM.

“Elijah?” she called out uncertainly, though she knew her brother would never come back this late. That wasn’t his style. The door opened.

It wasn’t Elijah standing there. Two unfamiliar men slipped in without a sound. One was tall, broad-shouldered, with stubble. The other, a bit shorter but muscular, had a tattoo that snaked up his neck to his ear. Their dark clothing blended into the shadows, but Andromeda noticed the heavy boots, the tight fabric gloves peeking from under their leather jackets.

“Is this some kind of sick joke?” she asked coldly, though her gut already screamed something was wrong. Her voice remained firm, but her heart pounded.

The taller man closed the door behind them, like he belonged there.

“Andy Carter?” he asked. Andromeda’s eyes narrowed.

“Andromeda Carter. Who are you and what are you doing here?”

The tattooed man smiled. The kind of smile that made people instinctively step back.

“Your brother says that’s what they call you. Andy.”

Andromeda didn’t move. She just stared at them, her mind racing. Elliot. It had to be Elliot. The third Carter brother. The one always in trouble. The one she’d always had to drag out of the mess. The one who had finally betrayed her.

“Elliot? He said that?”

The bearded man nodded and pulled a crumpled photo from his inner jacket pocket. It showed Elliot at some college party, clearly drunk, with an unknown girl on his arm.

“Your brother sold your name. To us. He’s been owing us a shitload of money for months. But I guess you already know… how loyal your family is.”

Andromeda’s hand reached for her phone, but the tattooed man was faster. He leapt over the desk and grabbed her wrist with enough force to crack bone.

“No!” she cried, swinging her free fist into his face. She landed the punch. The tattooed man staggered, but the other one was already behind her, grabbing her shoulder and yanking her back. She crashed to the floor, her elbow hitting hard, but she didn’t stop. She kicked, thrashed, her nails raking across the bearded man's face.

“Go to hell! The police—!”

A harsh slap exploded across her cheek. Her head snapped sideways, blood filling her mouth. For a moment, everything went dark. The tattooed man growled:

“Don’t make it harder, princess. This stopped being your choice a long time ago.”

The bearded man pulled out a syringe and plunged it into her neck. Andromeda jolted, tried to scream—but her voice died in her throat.

Her body sank into numbness, and like a stone dropped into water, she slipped into darkness.

♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️

When she came to, it was sound that reached her first—the steady hum of the engine, the muffled roar of tires. Then came the cold. The car’s floor was icy against her skin, and some rough material dug into her wrist. She opened her eyes.

A black SUV. The trunk. Her legs were tied, hands bound behind her back. Right beside her, in the passenger seat, sat the tattooed man—arms crossed, as if he’d just finished a boring errand. Andromeda flinched, then instantly tried to kick him. Her body moved sluggishly, but she hit his knee. The man grunted and grabbed her hair.

“Still feisty. I like that,” he growled. “But that’s enough now.”

Her throat was dry, but her voice still worked.

“Let me go, you sick bastard! You have no idea who you’re messing with!”

The man froze. A beat of silence, then he laughed low.

“Oh, but I do. A spoiled little princess. A Carter. A nobody we now own.”

Then he struck.

The blow landed at her temple with brutal precision. Stars burst behind her eyes, and the world went black again.

♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️

The black vehicle sped through the night. Headlights flickered across the trees as the road stretched into the unknown. The destination was already known. The passenger no longer resisted. She just lay there, motionless—like a wild thing caught in a trap.

But the awakening was only just beginning.

The SUV rolled quietly up a gravel driveway, as if it too feared disturbing the frozen silence of the night. Thick trees lined the road on both sides, casting shadows like prison bars. Heavy clouds swallowed the moon above, so only the headlights lit the way—until they revealed a brooding stone manor ahead.

The estate where, rumor had it, life and death were decided with a whisper.

In front of the manor, a single standing torch flickered in the wind. Two men stood at the great oak doors. One wore a navy-blue suit, a black scarf around his neck, posture sharp like a blade. The other, slightly shorter, also suited, eyes constantly scanning the area. Their silence, their stillness—and the fact that even the wind seemed too afraid to touch them—made one thing clear: these were not ordinary men.

They were Lucian Thornewell and Tobias, his right hand. Shadows of death and judgment.

Lucian stood still, hands clasped behind his back. His dark brown eyes watched. He didn’t blink. He didn’t speak. He just stared, as if he already knew what was approaching. The SUV slowed, then stopped at the base of the stone steps. The engine cut. Silence fell inside.

Tobias stepped forward.

“So they found her. Fairly quickly.”

Lucian didn’t respond. His gaze narrowed, just slightly. The driver—the bearded man—got out. He walked around the vehicle, opened the back door, then signaled to his partner—the tattooed man who had struck Andromeda. The two exchanged a glance, then moved to the trunk. They opened it.

Lucian’s jaw tightened—something shifted in his face. A shadow of warning.

Inside, Andromeda lay still. Her face was pale, hair disheveled, dried blood caked at her temple. Rope burns cut into her wrists. She wasn’t sedated. She was unconscious. Injured.

Lucian stepped forward. Tobias moved with him, but Lucian raised a hand. Stop.

His voice was cold as frost when he finally spoke:

“What happened to her?”

The tattooed man shrugged casually, as if describing a suitcase that had been hard to carry.

“She fought. Bit me too. The sedative didn’t kick in fast enough. So she got a hit. And in the car, another one when she kicked me. Nothing serious.”

Lucian didn’t move. The trees went still, as if nature itself held its breath. He pulled something from beneath his coat. A sleek, black pistol.

Without a word, he shot the man in the head.

The blast rattled the earth. The body slumped forward onto the trunk, then rolled off onto the gravel. Brain matter splattered. Blood pooled.

The other man—the driver—froze.

Tobias took a step toward him, and the driver instantly dropped to his knees.

“Lucian, please… I didn’t—I told him not to touch her… I swear, I didn’t—”

Lucian lifted his gaze, the pistol still in hand.

“What were my orders?”

“That… that…” the man stammered. “To bring her in unharmed.”

“Unharmed,” Lucian repeated. “And this? You call this unharmed?”

He walked to Andromeda. Knelt. His fingers gently touched her face, brushing away a drop of blood. He stared at her for a moment. His face twitched. It wasn’t anger. It was something deeper: loss of control.

“Tobias.”

“Yes, boss.”

“Take her. Medical exam. Document everything—from the scratches to her pulse.”

“Understood.”

“And him?” Lucian looked at the kneeling driver. A pause. Then, coldly:

“Take him. He disobeyed me. Let him beg mercy from someone else. He won’t get it from me.”

Tobias signaled two guards. They seized the driver. His cries and begging were short—like a dying breath.

Another man emerged from the manor with a stretcher. One of Lucian’s own. They lifted Andromeda carefully from the trunk. Her head lolled, hair falling over her shoulder. Her skin was cold—like marble.

Lucian stepped back. He looked at her, but his expression remained unreadable.

“The Carter family lost their honor before you were even born,” he said quietly. “But still... it was you who made the first move toward me. Not your father. Not your brother. You.”

He said no more. He turned on his heel and walked toward the manor’s entrance, long strides, coat sweeping behind him like smoke. Tobias glanced back as they carried Andromeda inside. Then he followed his master into the dark.

Night moved on overhead, like a shroud. The door of the estate closed.

And the world changed.