The message blinked on my screen like a warning light I couldn't ignore.
You've been busy, Ms. Moreau.
I stared at the words, heart pounding like a drumbeat in my chest, the elevator's hum suddenly too loud, too close, as if it echoed my own rising panic.
Be careful who you trust in this city. Not all devils wear suits.
Who was watching me? Who knew my name—knew me well enough—to send a threat wrapped in such cold civility? The text was unsigned, but the menace felt personal. Like a ghost from the shadows breathing down my neck.
I swallowed hard, locked the phone, and shoved it deep in my purse.
Running was the easy choice.
But running wasn't who I was.
Not anymore.
Because admitting fear meant giving them power.
And I wasn't handing that over to anyone.
---
Back at my desk, the usual cacophony of ringing phones, whispered meetings, and clacking keyboards felt miles away, muffled by the pounding of my own thoughts.
Lucien had marked me—etched me—made me his in ways no one else dared.
But this new mark?
This was something else.
A shadow that slid beneath skin and bone.
And I didn't know how to fight it.
---
Mara found me just before lunch.
Her eyes were sharp, scanning like a hawk spotting weakness.
"Rough night?" she asked with a knowing tilt of her head.
I forced a smile, but it didn't reach my eyes.
"You could say that."
She lowered her voice. "Alina, Westbrooke isn't just a company. It's a warzone. And you? You're right in the middle."
I nodded slowly.
"I'm aware."
"Then don't let yourself get caught in the crossfire."
Her warning wasn't just about office politics.
It was about survival.
---
The rest of the day dragged.
Each email ping sounded like a sniper's bullet.
Every shadow felt like eyes watching.
And the key—the cold, silver key—sat heavy in my palm like a secret I wasn't ready to unlock.
---
Later, in the quiet of the nearly empty office, I checked my phone again.
No new messages.
But the unease lingered.
Lucien's world was a maze of beauty and brutality.
And I was caught in the center, spinning.
---
Outside, the city was cold and indifferent.
Streetlights flickered against rain-slicked sidewalks.
I felt a presence—a weight pressing just behind me.
I turned sharply, but no one was there.
Just the night swallowing secrets whole.
---
I pulled my coat tighter and texted him.
Why me?
Seconds later, the reply came.
Because you're the only one who can survive this.
The words burned bright and cold all at once.
Was it a promise?
Or a curse?
---
That night, sleep fled me again.
Dreams twisted into shadows of Lucien's eyes, dark and dangerous, pulling me deeper into a world I was only beginning to understand.
The line between enemy and ally blurred until they looked the same.
I was playing a game where the stakes were everything.
And the dealer was the devil himself.
---
When morning came, I was ready.
No hesitation.
No fear.
Because whatever came next—I wasn't backing down.
Not now.
Not ever.