Chapter 2: Unfinished Business
844 Words
Kahlia had expected the whispers. The hushed voices trailing behind her as she moved through the grand ballroom, the stolen glances filled with a mix of curiosity and wariness. But what she hadn’t anticipated was the raw energy pulsing through her veins as she stood there, locked in a battle of wills with the very man who had once destroyed her.
Eros Kael.
The name alone sent a shiver down her spine—not of fear, but of something far more dangerous. The fire of old wounds reopened, burning hotter than before.
She exhaled slowly, steadying herself. The past had nearly broken her once, but she wouldn’t let it claim her again.
“Kahlia,” a deep voice rumbled from behind her, drawing her attention away from the dance floor.
Cassian Montrell.
The ever-loyal right-hand man of Eros, watching her with cautious intrigue. Unlike Eros, Cassian had never been cruel. He had always been the silent observer, the one who seemed to see more than he let on. And now, as he approached her, his dark eyes held the same unreadable depth.
“Cassian,” she greeted, taking another sip of her champagne. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
He glanced at the sea of guests before shifting his gaze back to her. “You’ve certainly made an entrance.”
She smirked. “Was that not the point?”
His lips quirked at the edges, but his amusement didn’t reach his eyes. “Be careful, Kahlia. You’re stirring a hornet’s nest.”
She tilted her head. “And what if I want to be stung?”
Cassian exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face as if debating whether to say more. Finally, he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “I don’t know what you came back for, but Eros… he’s different now. Harder. Less forgiving.”
Kahlia laughed softly, the sound laced with bitterness. “Was he ever forgiving to begin with?”
Cassian didn’t respond, but the flicker in his eyes was enough.
Before she could push further, a voice called out her name.
“Kahlia.”
This time, it was Eros himself.
The deep timbre of his voice wrapped around her like an unshakable force, compelling her to turn. And when she did, she found him standing just a few feet away, his gaze dark, unreadable.
A long silence stretched between them. The kind that felt suffocating, like a storm brewing just beyond the horizon.
Eros took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. “We need to talk.”
She raised a brow. “Do we?”
His jaw clenched. “Don’t play games, Kahlia.”
She smirked, feigning innocence. “I’m not the one who started this game, Eros. I was just forced to learn how to play.”
The muscle in his jaw ticked, a sign of his growing frustration. Good. Let him feel even a fraction of what she had endured.
He exhaled sharply. “Not here.”
For a moment, she considered refusing. Letting him stew in his emotions, in the mess he had created. But no—this was what she wanted. To see the cracks in his carefully constructed armor. To make him feel the weight of her return.
With a sigh of false boredom, she set down her glass. “Fine. Lead the way.”
Eros turned without another word, expecting her to follow. And she did, not because she obeyed him, but because this was the beginning of the war she had come to wage.
As she walked beside him, she could feel the heat of his presence, the way his muscles tensed beneath his suit. He was on edge. Good.
They moved through the grand hall and into a private lounge, the heavy doors shutting behind them with a quiet finality.
The moment they were alone, Eros turned to her, his expression dark. “What the hell are you doing here?”
She raised a brow, feigning amusement. “That’s quite the welcome, considering we used to share a bed.”
His eyes flashed with something dangerous. “Don’t test me, Kahlia.”
She stepped closer, closing the distance between them. “Or what? You’ll betray me again? Frame me for something I didn’t do?”
His expression hardened. “I never framed you.”
She let out a humorless laugh. “No, but you didn’t stop it either.”
Silence stretched between them, thick with old wounds and unsaid words.
Finally, Eros exhaled, raking a hand through his hair. “Why now?”
Kahlia tilted her head, studying him. He wanted the truth? Fine.
“Because I want justice,” she said, voice like steel. “And because I want you to know what it feels like to lose everything.”
Eros’s gaze darkened. “You think I didn’t lose something that night?”
She scoffed. “No, Eros. You lost nothing. But you will.”
With that, she turned on her heel, leaving him standing in the dimly lit room, his expression unreadable.
Let the war begin.
- Writer
