CHAPTER 005
1235 Words
LYRA’S POINT OF VIEW
Two years.
It has been seven hundred and thirty days since I crawled through the dirt, ran through the trees, and left my old life behind. Over these seven hundred and thirty days, I have learned, grown, and transformed into a completely different person.
The girl who was betrayed? She’s dead.
Now, I walk the streets of this city with a name they whisper in high places. This name carries immense power. No one can connect this name to the helpless prisoner who once begged for her life.
I don’t beg anymore.
I take.
And soon, I’ll take everything from the man who stole my life.
I step out of my black car, the city lights reflecting against the tinted windows. The air is thick with the scent of rain and ambition, a mix of damp pavement and expensive cologne from the passing businessmen who barely spare me a glance.
Good.
That’s precisely how I want it.
“Ms. Calloway.”
I turn.
A young man—sharp suit, polished shoes, nervous energy crackling around him—waits by the entrance of the high-rise building.
Elliot. My assistant.
“Everything’s set for tonight,” he says, walking beside me as I stride into the lobby. “The investors are eager to meet you.”
“Let them wait.”
I don’t slow down. My heels click against the marble floors, each step a reminder of the woman I’ve become.
Elliot swallows hard. “There’s… one more thing.”
I stop in front of the elevator, pressing the button without looking at him.
“What?”
He hesitates, then holds out a sleek black envelope.
An invitation.
My fingers brush over the golden letters embossed on the front.
A gala.
The event was hosted by Kieran Voss.
I let out a slow breath.
It’s been two years. I have spent the past two years rebuilding myself and erasing all traces of the girl he crushed beneath his boot. I told myself I’d never set foot in the same room as him until I was ready.
Am I ready?
I open the envelope.
The words blur for a second before coming into focus.
Exclusive Invitation: An Evening with Kieran Voss
The date. The location. The location holds the promise of power and wealth, bringing together individuals who believe they own the world under one roof.
I curl my fingers around the thick paper.
Perfect.
I step into the elevator, the doors sliding shut with a quiet chime. Elliot watches me, his brows drawn together like he wants to say something but thinks better of it.
Smart boy.
“Send my RSVP,” I say, voice smooth. “And find me the perfect dress.”
A pause.
Then—
“Yes, Ms. Calloway.”
The doors close, sealing me inside.
I stare at my reflection in the polished metal.
For the first time in two years, I allow myself to say his name out loud.
“Kieran.”
It doesn’t taste like fear anymore.
It tastes like revenge.
The night of the gala, I stand in front of the mirror, adjusting the delicate clasp of my diamond necklace.
The dress clings to me like liquid darkness, sleek and dangerous. A statement. A warning.
A promise.
Elliot stands behind me, shifting nervously. “Are you sure about this?”
I meet his gaze in the mirror.
"Did you have doubts when we took over the Whitmore shipping routes?"
"No, but—"
"Did you hesitate when we crushed Sterling Holdings?"
He exhales. "No."
"Then don’t hesitate anymore."
His throat bobs as he nods.
I turn back to my reflection.
"You know the plan?"
“Yes. I’ll be outside, watching for anything unusual. If something goes wrong—”
“Nothing will go wrong.”
I reach for my clutch, slipping a small blade inside before snapping it shut.
"Let’s go."
The gala is in full swing by the time I arrive. The estate is a masterpiece of wealth and arrogance, with towering pillars and grand chandeliers dripping with gold.
Inside, men in tailored suits sip expensive whiskey, their laughter deep and knowing. Women drape themselves in luxury, their jewels flashing under the lights like tiny daggers.
The scent of power lingers in the air.
I step into it like I belong.
Because I do.
A waiter approaches, offering champagne. I take a glass, my fingers brushing the stem as I scan the room.
And then—
I see him.
Kieran Voss.
He stands at the center of the room, surrounded by men who would sell their souls for a fraction of his power. He’s aged, but not much. He remains sharp, calculated, and untouchable in the eyes of those who lack knowledge.
But I know better.
His voice carries across the room, smooth and confident. He doesn’t look over his shoulder.
Why would he?
He thinks he has no ghosts.
I lift my glass to my lips, a slow smile curving as I whisper against the rim. —
“I’m coming for you.”
I weave through the crowd, every step measured, every glance purposeful.
Closer.
Closer.
Kieran turns, laughing at something one of his men says—
And then his eyes land on me.
For the briefest second, something flickers across his face. Something flickers across his face, a shadow of recognition. The ghost of the past is persistently striving to rise to the surface.
Then it’s gone.
He lifts his glass, nodding in acknowledgment.
I do the same.
His gaze lingers a moment longer before he turns back to his conversation.
Good.
Let him wonder.
Let him doubt.
Because by the time he realizes who I am—
It’ll be too late.
The night stretches on, filled with empty laughter and whispered deals. I move through it like smoke, slipping between conversations, gathering fragments of information.
And then—
A hand brushes my wrist.
I turn.
A man. The man, tall and lean, was observing me with his incredibly intelligent eyes.
"You don’t belong here," he murmurs.
I smile. "Neither do you."
He chuckles, lifting his drink. "Touché."
"Who are you?"
"Just someone who enjoys interesting company." He leans in slightly. "And you? Are you here for business… or pleasure?"
I hold his gaze.
"Both."
His lips curve. "Dangerous answer."
"Then maybe you should stay away."
He clinks his glass against mine.
"Maybe I don’t want to."
I take a slow sip, watching him over the rim.
This night just got more interesting.
As the gala winds down, Kieran makes his way toward the exit, shaking hands and offering smiles that never quite reach his eyes.
I follow, just close enough.
He steps outside, the cool night air curling around us.
Then—
He pauses.
Turns his head slightly.
"Who are you?" he murmurs, so low only I can hear.
I step forward, just enough for the moonlight to catch my face.
His brows draw together, something unspoken lingering between us.
Something sharp.
Something dangerous.
I lean in, just close enough for my lips to brush the shell of his ear.
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
Then I walk away.
And for the first time—
Kieran Voss looks afraid.
I step into my car, my pulse steady, my smile slow.
Game on.
The present moment is just the beginning.
And when I’m done—
He won’t just lose.
He’ll burn.
- Writer
