Chapter 8: Scarlet Lies
553 Words
The rain began before Lucien reached the bookstore. Fine, icy needles that soaked through his jacket and made the world shimmer like a broken mirror. He didn’t mind. After everything—Zarek’s sudden return, the blood on his shirt, the secret phone calls—rain was the least violent thing touching him lately.
He unlocked the door and stepped inside, greeted by the familiar scent of old pages and lavender oil. The bell above the door chimed. Safe. Or so he thought.
A figure emerged from the poetry aisle.
“Lucien,” Auren said, arms crossed, eyes sharp. “We need to talk.”
Lucien froze. “Can it wait?”
“No. Not anymore.”
Lucien sighed and locked the door behind him. “Fine. I’ll put on tea.”
“Forget the tea. Who is he?”
Lucien didn’t need to ask who.
Auren stepped closer. “I saw the bruises on your neck. And the guy—tall, terrifying, mafia energy? He picked you up outside the club. I know who he is.”
Lucien stiffened. “Then don’t say his name.”
“Zarek Velenza,” Auren spat. “Do you have a death wish?”
Lucien flinched at the sound. Like the name could burn him.
“It’s not what you think,” Lucien muttered.
“You think I don’t know what the Velenzas do in this city?” Auren’s voice rose. “That family’s poison. And he’s their favorite weapon.”
Lucien opened his mouth. Closed it. What could he say? That Zarek kissed him like he was made of glass and rage? That under all that violence was something broken that called to him?
“He’s different with me,” Lucien said finally.
“Oh God,” Auren laughed bitterly. “You’re falling for him.”
“I didn’t say that—”
“You didn’t have to.” Auren’s expression softened. “You’re my best friend. I know how you look when you’re drowning.”
Lucien looked away. “I’m not drowning.”
“Yes, you are. And he’s the ocean.”
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Across the City – Velenza Estate
Zarek watched the rain through tinted windows. His knuckles were red. Not from a fight—but from holding back.
“Lucien’s friend is asking questions,” said Enzo, Zarek’s right-hand man. “Should we take care of him?”
“No,” Zarek growled. “He’s harmless.”
“He’s not harmless if he pulls Lucien out.”
Zarek turned, his jaw tight. “Lucien stays. No one touches him. Not even you.”
Enzo raised an eyebrow. “You getting soft?”
Zarek looked away. “No. Just possessive.”
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Later That Night – Lucien’s Apartment
Lucien stared at the black rose on his windowsill. It had returned again. No note. Just the flower, delivered like a warning—or a promise.
He didn’t know if Zarek had sent it or if someone was watching them both.
His phone buzzed.
> Unknown Number: Are you safe?
Lucien stared. Then typed.
> Lucien: Who is this?
No reply. He checked the number—no trace.
Another message came through minutes later.
> Unknown Number: If you love him, run.
Lucien’s blood went cold.
He barely had time to react before his window shattered.
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- Writer
