CHAPTER NINE – LUCiAN
The city was a glittering sprawl beneath him, a sea of cold lights and restless movement. Lucian stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office, whiskey glass in one hand, jacket discarded carelessly over the back of a chair. Midnight was creeping into the bones of the city, but he hadn't moved for hours.
Behind him, Silas leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, completely at ease in a room that made most men sweat. "Another dead end," Silas said casually, flipping open the thin file on Lucian's desk. "I swear whoever that girl is, she's a ghost. No credit trail, no social media, nothing. Almost impressive."
Lucian didn't turn. His reflection in the glass stared back at him, sharp and unreadable.
"Try harder." His voice was quiet, which made Silas straighten slightly. Lucian rarely raised his voice; he didn't need to. When he spoke like this, men either obeyed or disappeared.
Silas smirked faintly, brushing off the warning like he always did. "Sure. I'll just ask the wind for directions. Maybe she's living on a beach somewhere, sipping coconut water."
Lucian finally turned, dark eyes pinning him in place. The smirk faded only slightly.
"She's not dead," Lucian said flatly. "And she's not sipping coconut water." He set the whiskey glass down with a quiet clink. "Find her, Silas. No excuses."
Silas let out a slow breath. "I've got men combing every hotel log from that night. Security footage was conveniently wiped, but we have fragments. Blurry. No clear face. You sure you want me to keep throwing money at this? It's been almost three years."
Lucian's jaw flexed, the only sign of the storm under his controlled exterior.
"I remember her scream." His voice dropped, rougher now. "I remember the smell of that room. The drug. Whoever set that up wanted her ruined, and wanted me out of the way."
For a moment, silence stretched between them. Silas looked away first.
"You couldn't have known," he said, his tone softer than usual.
Lucian's laugh was humorless. "I should have. I walked into that room, Silas. I saw her" His words cut off abruptly. The memory was fragmented but relentless: wide, terrified eyes, a broken sob, the sharp chemical sting in the air before his vision went black.
When he woke, she was gone.
"I tried to stop it," he said at last, quieter. "I tried to help her. And instead…" He didn't finish. Instead, he reached for the file on his desk and snapped it shut.
Silas straightened, reading the dangerous shift in his boss's mood. "All right. I'll push harder. More men, more resources. But Lucian"
Lucian's dark gaze snapped to him.
Silas gave a faint shrug, unfazed. "If she doesn't want to be found, it's possible she's making sure she never is. We could be chasing a shadow for another three years."
Lucian didn't respond for a moment. Then, with deliberate calm, he reached into the drawer of his desk, pulled out a black envelope, and handed it to Silas.
"Open it."
Silas obeyed, sliding out a single photograph a grainy still from a street camera. A woman's silhouette, hair falling loose around her shoulders, caught mid-stride as she walked away.
"It's all I have," Lucian said quietly. "And it's enough."
Silas tucked the photo back into the envelope and met Lucian's gaze. There was no arguing with that look.
"Understood."
Lucian moved back to the window, hands in his pockets now, shoulders straight, every line of him coiled with restrained purpose. The glass reflected him like a phantom watching the world below.
"I don't care how far she's run," he said. "I don't care what name she's using now. Find her. And when you do—" His voice hardened. "—bring her to me."
Silas gave a short nod. "Yes, boss."
He left without another word, the door clicking softly behind him.
Lucian stood there long after he was gone, the city stretching out before him like an empire he owned — and yet it felt empty.
He closed his eyes briefly, remembering her face — the one thing that had haunted him for years. She had been fragile and fierce all at once, even as the drug weakened her. He remembered the fear in her eyes and the way it had clawed at something buried deep inside him.
Most men would have let it go by now. Most men would have moved on.
But Lucian was not most men.
He opened his eyes, the predator once again awake.
"Run if you want," he murmured to the empty room. "Hide. But you won't disappear from me forever."
He poured himself another drink, calm settling over him like ice. Somewhere out there, she was alive. He could feel it. And when he found her,when he finally looked into those eyes again — nothing would stop him from making things right.
Or making them worse.