Chapter 4: The Warning Beneath the Rose
562 Words
Lucien hadn’t been able to sleep since that night. Zarek haunted him—his eyes, his hands, the way he didn’t speak but left thunder in his silence. It wasn’t just lust. It was something far more dangerous: curiosity.
He couldn’t focus. Not at the university library where he worked. Not during coffee breaks with colleagues. Not even when Nimra, his best friend, begged him to stop zoning out mid-conversation.
> “Lucien,” she snapped. “Are you seriously still thinking about that stranger?”
“It wasn’t just a hookup,” he murmured.
“Did he even give you his name?”
“…No.”
But the name had found him anyway.
That evening, Lucien came home to find a small envelope slipped beneath his door. Black wax seal. The symbol of a rose dripping blood.
Inside: a single card. No words. Just a photo.
It was him. Zarek. Drenched in shadow, gun holstered at his hip, a cigarette in his mouth. Behind him: a man bleeding out.
Lucien’s hands shook. Was this a threat? A message? Or… a warning?
He turned the card over.
A number.
A time.
Tonight.
---
Lucien stood outside the old opera house downtown, the one that had been abandoned since the fire ten years ago. Why meet here?
He entered. Candles lit the dusty aisles. The stage glowed faintly.
Zarek was already there.
Leaning against the piano. Black suit. No smile.
Lucien stepped closer, heart pounding.
> “What is this?”
“A test,” Zarek said. “You wanted to know who I am. You asked. I’m showing you.”
“By sending me a murder photo?”
“That wasn’t murder. It was justice.”
Lucien backed a step, but Zarek moved forward.
> “This world isn't built for boys like you,” Zarek murmured. “You think love is soft. That danger is beautiful. But this—”
He grabbed Lucien’s wrist, pressed it to his chest—
“—this is the price of shadows.”
Lucien didn’t pull away.
> “Then why did you come back?” he whispered.
“Because I can't stop thinking about your lips,” Zarek confessed, his voice cracking. “And that terrifies me more than bullets ever have.”
Their kiss was not gentle this time.
It was punishment. It was a plea. It was Zarek trying to push him away through fire, and Lucien diving in anyway.
They didn’t make it to the hotel this time.
They had each other backstage—among forgotten costumes and velvet curtains. Clothes half-off, teeth grazing skin, gasps echoing like arias from ghosts.
Lucien arched under Zarek’s weight, trembling.
> “You’re going to ruin me,” he said.
“I already have,” Zarek whispered, kissing down his neck.
---
Later, Zarek sat alone outside the opera house, smoking.
A shadow emerged from behind a statue.
> “You brought him in?” the figure hissed. “Are you insane?”
“He’s already in.”
“You let him see you. Us.”
“If he’s weak, I’ll kill him myself,” Zarek muttered. “But if he’s strong... he’ll survive me.”
From the balcony above, Lucien watched.
And for the first time, he realized something terrifying.
He didn’t want to escape Zarek’s world.
He wanted to belong to it.
- Writer
