THIRD PERSON POV
Alexander pushes open the door to Sarah's new apartment. It's cozy, tastefully furnished, nestled right in the heart of London. Plush couches, floor-to-ceiling windows framing a stunning view of the Thames River.
The setting sun paints the living room in soft hues of orange and pink. Sarah stands frozen in the doorway, her eyes wide with quiet wonder.
Alexander sets her two suitcases down, his grey eyes calm yet stormy as he watches her take it all in. She walks to the balcony, drawn to the view, completely mesmerized.
She turns back to him, her eyes sparkling with an innocent excitement he's never seen in anyone before. Alexander's hand tightens inside his overcoat pocket.
"Is this… really okay for me to stay here?" she asks, nervousness threading through her voice.
After being separated from her family at age six, Sarah was raised in a modest rural orphanage. Life was kind, but never luxurious. Working for Rhys had provided stability, but this—this felt like stepping into another world.
Alexander nods, his voice even. "Yes. As I said, you'll be handling my personal finances. That makes you one of the closest people working with me. I always ensure my people are taken care of."
Sarah's lips curl into a soft, grateful smile. Alexander's gaze traces her face like a silent, unseen caress. She doesn't notice; she's already drawn to the flower pots on the balcony, crouching to examine the roses and lavender.
"Do you like flowers?" she asks curiously, glancing over her shoulder.
Alexander's composure flickers. He wasn't expecting her to notice the small, personal touches he'd arranged.
She catches his expression before he can mask it and chuckles softly. "It's okay. Just because you're a man doesn't mean you can't like flowers."
He shifts slightly, uncomfortable under her direct yet gentle gaze. His gloved fingers twitch inside his pocket.
"Yeah," he murmurs.
Sarah walks back toward him. Their first meeting shouldn't have led to this. But she needed a job and a place to stay. He needed someone competent, someone he could trust with the darkest parts of his ledger.
Somehow, they ended up here.
Sarah doesn't know about the blood feud brewing between Odette and Kayros. Alexander doesn't plan to tell her—not yet.
"I'll brief you on what you'll be managing," he says, steering the conversation back to business. "As you know, I own twenty percent of Thompson Medical School and Hospital. I'm also involved in… less ethical medical ventures. Investments in pharmaceutical research, bioweapon development—things used in the underworld."
Sarah is no stranger to the shadowy side of power. Though she refuses to acknowledge the Medici blood in her veins, five years working beside Rhys taught her the rules and risks of this world.
"You have my word," she says, her voice steady. "I won't ever betray you."
Alexander freezes mid-sentence. For the first time in years, something shifts behind his grey eyes. Her smile, the certainty in her promise—it reaches a part of him that's been cold and dormant for too long.
The evening sun kisses the curve of her cheek. A faint, unfamiliar warmth blooms in his chest, making his shoulders relax almost imperceptibly.
"You'll receive all the necessary files," he says, voice softer than he intended. "Take your time settling in."
Sarah nods. Alexander turns and leaves.
The door closes behind him with a soft thud. He leans his forehead against it, breathing uneven, throat dry, pulse racing.
What's wrong with me? I had a full checkup last month.
He presses a gloved hand to his chest, feeling his heart beat too fast, too loud against his ribs.
"Fuck," he mutters under his breath. But deep down, he knows.
It's not a medical condition. The thing making his cold, steady heart race like a fool… has a name.
Sarah Medici.
Alexander gets into his car but doesn't start the engine. His eyes drift up to the twentieth floor, where a soft light glows in Sarah's apartment. He watches her shadow move behind the curtains.
His grip tightens on the steering wheel. He doesn't blink.
"I'm in trouble," he whispers to the empty car.
---
That night, Alexander drives to the secret headquarters of Black Wolf, hidden deep within a forest. Fifteen checkpoints guard the approach to the compound—a sprawling three-hundred-acre complex divided into seven sections:
1. Research Center
2. Training Grounds
3. Weapons Manufacturing
4. Medical Facility
5. Financial Oversight
6. Tech Development
7. The Control Room
Without an escort, the maze of buildings and hidden landmines is lethal.
Alexander strides into the control building, his grey overcoat flapping with each step. Czar is waiting outside the main meeting room, looking worn and tense.
"Tell me how I'm supposed to survive Kay's madness," Czar huffs, rubbing his temples.
Alexander doesn't answer. He pushes past him into Kayros's private office.
The smell hits him first—cigarette smoke and whiskey, thick and heavy. The curtains are drawn. Papers are scattered everywhere. The only light comes from the glowing monitors on the walls.
Kayros sits in the center of the chaos, his eyes bloodshot, his expression dangerously hollow.
Alexander's skin crawls. All the earlier warmth he felt with Sarah evaporates, replaced by a cold, familiar tension. He's standing before a man on the verge of becoming one of the most feared monsters the underworld has ever seen.
Kayros's voice is low, shredded with rage. "That woman… she will die by my hand."
"What happened?" Alexander asks, though he already dreads the answer.
Kayros clenches his jaw, the muscle ticking violently. His usually arctic-blue eyes are wild, unhinged.
"Blackwood Intelligence is spreading rumors," he says, each word clipped and venomous. "They claim to have evidence about who was really behind the Berlin New Year's fire. The one that paralyzed my mother and killed Timofey's wife and daughter."
Alexander's blood runs cold.
He knows. Everyone in their world knows—that fire is the most sensitive, most explosive wound in Kayros's life. The one topic no one dares to touch.
If Odette—or Ophelia, or whoever she is now—is spreading rumors, fake or not, about that night…
She isn't just poking a wounded lion.
She's setting its den on fire.
And no one can predict what will happen if Kayros stops controlling the monster inside him.