The sleek black car moved smoothly. Only the very faint purr of the engine could be heard in silence of the car.
Adrian sat in the back seat, hands folded loosely in his lap, the folded paper bag still resting against his thigh. The window beside him was tinted dark enough that the city outside appeared muted, like it existed behind glass even before the glass was there.
Lucian sat at the front very still.
Not beside the driver. The car was divided into there parts with dividers.
The divider between the front and back seats was raised. Thick. Soundproof. Adrian could see Lucian's silhouette through the tinted partition, the clean line of his shoulders, the way his head tilted slightly as he gave instructions in a low voice Adrian couldn't hear.
The car still moved smoothly. Too smoothly for the roads Adrian knew. The air conditioner was on full blast because vampires always liked the cold. Of course there was nothing he could do about it but endure.
He watched the city shift as they drove. Streets widened. Pavement smoothed out. Streetlights grew fewer, farther apart. The buildings changed too. Less noise. Less clutter. Fewer signs screaming for attention.
This part of the city didn't need to announce itself.
Adrian adjusted his posture, not because he was uncomfortable, but because stillness invited notice. He didn't know if Lucian was watching him through the glass but he assumed that was the case.
No one spoke to him or asked him if he was cold.
The driver didn't glance back. The man in the front seat didn't turn around. It wasn't dismissal. It was containment.
Adrian focused on breathing evenly.
The car slowed after a while, the shift subtle enough that he felt it more than saw it. The gate ahead opened before the car fully stopped. No intercom. No hesitation.
They passed through.
The building beyond wasn't tall. It wasn't impressive. It didn't look like a place meant to house someone powerful. Clean lines. Neutral stone. Windows dark.
Adrian felt his stomach tighten anyway.
The car came to a stop beneath an overhang. The engine cut off.
Lucian stepped out the moment the car came to a halt. He didn't wait for a door to be opened for him. He moved with a fluid, terrifying grace.
Adrian reached for the door handle, but it didn't budge. He stayed in the back seat, his heart starting a slow, heavy thud against his ribs. Outside, Lucian was speaking to a man in a tactical vest. They were looking at a tablet, discussing something far removed from Adrian's existence.
One minute passed. Then two.
Adrian sat in the dark interior, the air getting slightly stale. It was an intentional delay. A power move designed to remind him that he didn't move until he was told to move. He was a secondary thought. He was a guest by technicality, but a prisoner by reality.
Finally, the door opened, and a man gestured for Adrian to step out.
Adrian stepped onto gravel that crunched loudly under his scuffed shoes. He felt small—smaller than he had ever felt in the slums. In the slums, he knew how to hide. Here, under the bright security floods and the watchful eyes of men with assault rifles, there was nowhere to go.
Lucian was already walking toward the entrance.
Inside, the building felt quieter than outside.
Footsteps echoed briefly and then disappeared. Adrian noticed cameras placed high in the corners, discreet but impossible to miss if you were looking. Public glass doors that slide open, and private doors that required fingerprints and retina.
Men stood at intervals along the walls. None of them stared.
That unsettled him more than if they had.
They moved through a corridor and into a room that looked like an office. A table. Several chairs. A window that didn't open. No decorations.
Lucian stopped near the center of the room.
The others remained near the door.
For the first time since the hallway, Lucian turned fully toward Adrian. He had removed his gloves and was standing behind a desk made of dark, heavy wood. He didn't tell Adrian to sit.
"The rules are simple," Lucian said. He didn't look up from the papers he was straightening. "You will stay here. You will stay in the room provided for you. You will not leave the building without my permission. You will not attempt to contact the outside world. No phones, no internet, no notes passed through the staff."
Adrian kept his hands at his sides. "And my mother?"
Lucian finally looked up. His gold eyes were flat, like coins at the bottom of a pool. "Your mother will continue her life. She will go to her job. She will return to her home. My men will ensure she is not disturbed by the elements of the city."
He paused, the threat hanging in the air like a blade.
"She will remain untouched," Lucian continued, "unless you give me a reason to change that arrangement. If you run, if you speak to anyone about what you saw tonight, the protection ends. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Adrian said. His voice was steady, though his throat felt like it was lined with glass.
"You are not a hostage," Lucian added, though the distinction felt thin. "You are not a guest. You are a witness to a sensitive transition of power. Until I decide how to integrate or neutralize that fact, you are a liability under containment. You will be fed. You will be housed. Beyond that, you do not exist."
Adrian took a breath. He needed to push. Just a little. He needed to see where the walls were.
"I have a job," Adrian said. "At the restaurant. If I don't show up for my shift tomorrow, Mr. Moon will call the police. He's already annoyed that I'm the only one who can handle the late-night runs to the hotels."
"You're still thinking about employment at a time like this?"
Lucian didn't blink. "Mr. Moon has already been informed that you have taken a high-paying private courier position for a local firm. A month's wages have been deposited into the restaurant's account to cover your sudden departure. He was quite happy to let you go."
Adrian felt a chill that had nothing to do with the air conditioning. They had moved that fast. In the time it took to drive from the hotel to this house, his life had been erased and rewritten.
"What about my things?" Adrian asked. "My clothes. My—"
"You won't need them," Lucian interrupted. "Everything you require will be provided. Is there anything else?"
Adrian wanted to ask if he would ever go home. He wanted to ask what 'neutralize' meant in the long term. But he looked at Lucian—the way the man stood, the lack of any human warmth in his posture—and he realized questions were a form of begging.
"Do you understand the terms?" Lucian asked.
"Yes."
Lucian studied him for a moment longer, as if weighing whether that answer was sufficient.
It was.
Lucian turned slightly, signaling the end of the exchange.
"Wait," Adrian said.
Lucian stopped.
He didn't turn back immediately.
"Yes," he said at last.
Adrian straightened in his chair.
"How long will this last?"
Lucian turned then, fully.
"That depends on you."
Adrian accepted that without visible reaction.
Lucian turned to one of the men by the door. "Show him where he'll be staying."
The man nodded.
Lucian didn't look back at Adrian as he left the room.
The door closed behind him with a soft click.
Adrian followed the guard down another corridor, his steps steady, his gaze forward. They stopped in front of a door that looked no different from the others.
The guard opened it.
The room inside was a far cry from what he'd expected. It was luxury and more. A king sized bed made with light blue sheets. Floor to ceiling window with view of the woods, a lake and the city lights beyond. The temperature was significantly warmer than the rest of the house. A walk in closet— that was currently empty, a bathroom almost as large the room with an in built pool.
The guard gestured to a button beside the door.
"If you need something," he said, "ask."
The door closed behind him, locking with a soft hiss.
He stood there for a moment, listening to the lock engage.
Then he set the folded bag down on the desk and sat on the edge of the bed.
The room smelled faintly of disinfectant.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands loosely clasped, and let himself breathe.
Not panic. Just release.
He didn't know how long he stayed like that.
Eventually, he lay back on the bed and stared at the polished gold ceiling. He could see his reflection.
Elsewhere, Lucian removed his coat.
The room he entered was larger, darker, lit by low lamps lights that cast long shadows across polished surfaces. He rolled his sleeves up and went to the sink without hesitation.
Water ran red, then clear.
He dried his hands carefully.
A soft knock sounded at the door. One of his lieutenants, a man named Marek, stepped inside.
"The extra security has been added, sir," Marek said. He hesitated, glancing toward the ceiling. "And the witness?"
Lucian dried his hands on a black towel. He didn't look up.
"He's in his room," Lucian said.
"Do you want me to have someone handle the finalities?" Marek asked. It was a polite way of asking if they should kill him now or later. "He's seen your face. He heard the dying words of a traitor. Keeping him alive is... inconvenient."
Lucian reached for a fresh shirt from the wardrobe. He thought of the boy in the hotel hallway—the way he had asked to finish a delivery while standing in a pool of blood. He thought of the way Adrian had lied to his mother, his voice cracking just enough to be human, but not enough to fail.
"Not yet," Lucian said.
A pause.
"Keep watching him," Lucian continued. "Quietly."
"Yes, sir."
The man lingered. "And if he becomes a liability?"
Lucian turned off the light.
"Then we'll revisit the terms." Lucian said.
This time, there would be no discussion.