Chapter 3: The Man in the Mirror
552 Words
Lucien couldn’t stop touching the place where Zarek had kissed his throat.
Three days had passed since that night at The Marrow Club. Three days, and Lucien still hadn’t shaken the feeling that something in his life had shifted. Like a door had opened in the dark—and something had stepped through it.
He tried to move on.
He played his piano. He met his friends for coffee. He even avoided The Marrow Club like it was cursed.
But every time he looked in the mirror, he saw it.
The black rose tattoo. The mark of their night. And beneath it, something strange in his reflection—his eyes were the same shade of blue, but the innocence was cracking.
---
Zarek watched from the rooftop across the street.
He wasn’t supposed to. He wasn’t supposed to care.
But Zarek Velenza had learned long ago that his instincts didn’t follow rules. The boy had haunted his mind like a drug. Sweet. Addictive. Dangerous.
He had meant to disappear. One night, no names, no strings.
But Lucien had looked at him like he wasn’t a monster.
That was the kind of gaze that could kill a man.
Or turn him into one.
---
Lucien was on his way to class when it happened.
He felt the presence before he saw it. A low hum in the air. Like electricity—or danger.
The alley beside the bookstore was usually empty.
Not today.
Three men stood there, and none of them looked like they were there to read poetry. Their suits were too perfect. Their smiles, too sharp. One had a scar curling around his eye like a serpent. Another cracked his knuckles like he was warming up to break someone in half.
Lucien froze. “Can I help you?”
“You already have,” said the tallest. “You’re the piano boy, right? The one who spent the night with Zarek Velenza.”
Lucien's blood ran cold. “I—what?”
The man stepped closer. “He marked you. That makes you part of the game now.”
---
Zarek was there before anyone saw him.
The alley darkened with his arrival.
Without a word, he moved like a blade through flesh—fast, quiet, final.
One man fell with a broken wrist. Another hit the brick wall, breath stolen from his lungs. The third didn’t even have time to scream before Zarek’s boot silenced him.
Lucien was shaking.
Zarek didn’t say anything at first. He just stared at him, jaw tight, eyes burning like coals.
“You followed me,” Lucien whispered.
“I never stopped.”
---
Zarek walked closer. “They weren’t supposed to touch you.”
“Why do they care about me?”
“Because I do,” Zarek said, voice soft and ruined.
Lucien looked at the bruised men groaning on the ground. “This is insane. You’re insane.”
Zarek stepped even closer, brushing a lock of hair from Lucien’s cheek. “I warned myself to stay away.”
“And?”
“And I’m losing.”
---
That night, Lucien didn’t sleep.
He stared at the black rose tattoo. He traced the thorns.
Some people fall in love.
Others fall into fire.
Lucien was beginning to realize—he had done both.
- Writer
