Dangerous 🖤

1185 Words

Alessia’s POV --- I couldn’t stop thinking about her. The girl in the picture. The one with red hair and soft blue eyes. The one Lucien once called his fiancée. The one listed as “deceased.” Covered. Terminated. Gone. And now Lucien knew I had seen it. He looked at me like I was a threat. Like he would’ve preferred if I didn’t exist at all. --- I stayed in my room the whole day. I didn’t touch the food they brought me. I didn’t answer when the maids knocked. I just sat on the floor beside the window, staring out at the gate far away. I wondered how Isabella had died. And who had killed her. --- By evening, Razor came into my room with a plain envelope. He didn’t say anything at first. He stood there silently with his hands in his pockets. I waited for him to speak. But he just walked to my table, dropped the envelope, and turned to leave. Then he stopped at the door. “You weren’t supposed to see what you saw,” he said without turning around. I swallowed hard. “Did you know her?” I asked. He paused. “I knew she wasn’t built for this life.” Then he left. --- When I opened the envelope, my hands trembled. Inside was a single photo. One last image of Isabella smiling with Lucien, sitting beside a black piano. He had his hand on her back. She was laughing. But his smile didn’t reach his eyes. There was also a post-it note stuck on the corner. Keep your mouth shut. This is the only piece left. He ordered the rest to be burned. I slid the photo into the inside pocket of my hoodie, zipped it up and sat back. I didn’t understand why I kept it. Maybe I needed a reminder that I wasn’t crazy. That something dark had happened here. That Lucien wasn’t just dangerous. He was haunted. --- NEXT MORNING The next morning was no different. The maids barely made eye contact with me. Everyone was walking on glass. Even Razor didn’t speak to me when he opened the car door and told me to get in. I didn’t ask questions. I just climbed in and looked out the window. --- When we pulled into the school parking lot, it felt like every student had their phone out. People were whispering as I walked past them. Their heads turned, eyes wide. I tried to keep my head down, but the whispers crawled into my ears like poison. “That’s her... that’s Lucien’s wife...” “I heard she’s a mafia bride... like, a real one...” “She must’ve signed a blood contract or something...” “She’s either lucky or cursed...” “She's so weird... why doesn't she talk?” “She’s acting innocent, but I bet she’s worse than him...” I clenched my fists and kept walking. I wasn’t ready for all this attention. I wasn’t ready to face their judgment. But I couldn’t disappear. Not now. --- In class, I sat in the back like always. My eyes scanned every corner of the room, not because I was looking for danger. But because I couldn’t stop myself from watching people. I wanted to know who to trust. Who to avoid. Who was secretly smiling and plotting behind their pretty little faces. --- That’s when I saw her. Camila. She was tall, sharp, beautiful and cold. Her voice could slice through steel. Her heels clicked loudly as she walked into class with a group of girls behind her like shadows. She tossed her hair back and looked at me with a smirk. Like she was looking at trash. She leaned in and whispered something to one of the girls, who gasped dramatically and covered her mouth. They were laughing. And I knew she was the type that enjoyed picking her prey carefully. I looked away. I wasn’t going to bite the bait. --- But when class ended, she made her move. I was packing my bag when she walked straight up to me, blocking my path with her polished shoes. “So you're the famous Alessia,” she said in a sweet but venom-laced voice. I stayed quiet. “I must say... you don’t look like someone who belongs to Lucien Kingston... but maybe that’s the point. Maybe he just needed something different after what happened with Isabella.” That name. I flinched a little, but tried to cover it. “Oh,” she smiled. “You don’t like that name, do you?” I stepped to the side to leave. But she blocked me again. “Tell me something, wifey... does he ever talk in his sleep? Mention her? Moan her name instead of yours?” Her voice was mocking. Her tone cruel. Then, just as I was about to say something, someone slammed the classroom door open. The sound made everyone jump. Lucien walked in. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. The temperature in the room dropped instantly. He walked over like a predator who had just scented blood. Camila straightened her back, smiling in that fake seductive way. “Lucien... I was just getting to know your little bride. You should’ve told me you brought her here. I would’ve welcomed her properly.” Lucien stood in front of her, eyes locked on hers. Deadly calm. “Camila,” he said slowly, “you’ve always had a big mouth.” She laughed nervously. He leaned closer. “But you see, big mouths get girls buried quicker than they think.” Her smile faded. He looked at her from head to toe like she was something disgusting on his shoe. “You open your mouth about her again,” he said in a low growl, “I’ll make sure it’s the last thing you ever open.” Camila’s face turned pale. “Lucien... I was just—” He raised one finger. And she went silent. Then he turned to me and said, “Let’s go.” I followed him out of the classroom, heart pounding. The entire room stayed frozen in place. Even the air didn’t move. --- Back in the car, I sat beside him silently. My hand still holding the strap of my backpack. Lucien didn’t look at me. His fingers were drumming on his thigh. But I could feel the storm under his skin. “She said Isabella’s name,” I said quietly. “I know,” he muttered. “Did you love her?” He didn’t answer. I turned to look at him. He stared straight ahead. Then he said, “Don’t ask questions that could get you killed.” --- I looked out the window again. And I realized something. Lucien was dangerous, yes. But he wasn’t heartless. Something inside him was still bleeding. And no matter how much he threatened me, or scared me, or tried to keep me away... I wanted to know what he was hiding. Even if it meant digging my own grave.

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