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Chapter 5 - The Game Changes

It had been raining since last night.

 

Rains lashed against the tall glass windows of Adrian's penthouse like an uninvited guest refusing to leave and drowning out the city's usual chatter in a curtain of gray outside. Inside was an atmosphere heavy with the faint scent of whiskey and the faint visceral burn of gunpowder — a remnant from last night's chaos.

 

Elena sat on the velvet couch, her hair damp from the storm. She had hardly spoken since her passage into this place. Adrian had left her alone for hours since then, disappearing into a shadowed study with the scent of leather and secrets. She was aware he was giving her time… Or, perhaps, just deciding what she was worth to him.

 

A faint click broke the silence as the door opened.

 

Inside walked Adrian, his black shirt rolled up at the sleeves with ink running down his forearms, winding black roses and Latin phrases. He moved with the same calm predatory ease, as if the entire room was bending around him. In his hand, a glass of whiskey caught the light and appeared elegant like molten amber.

 

"Are you going to keep staring at the floor," he said in his low growl, "or are you going to tell me why you really went to the docks?"

 

Elena found her chest tightening.

"I told you," she replied, meeting his gaze. "I was looking for my brother."

 

He took a long sip, never breaking his stare. "You are a terrible liar."

 

Her fingers curled against the couch cushion. "And you're a terrible host."

 

The tiniest smirk appeared on his lips, though it surely lightened nothing. "Careful go on, little dove. I might think you are ungrateful for my hospitality. Especially after I saved you from a situation likely to end with a bullet between your pretty eyes."

 

Elena's heart thudded, but she made herself hold his gaze. "And I am supposed to believe you've done that out of kindness?"

 

He set down the glass and leaned forward until his shadow swallowed hers. "Kindness is not my style. This is. You are alive because you are useful to me."

 

Cutting words, but not nearly so much as his tone-cold and unshakable. Still, a spark of something crossed his eyes, something that did not belong to a man who had never flinched while authorizing executions.

 

"What do you want from me?" she asked in barely above a whisper.

 

He leaned back now, studying her like she was a puzzle piece just out of his reach. "I want the truth, Elena. I want to know who you're working for. Because nobody walks into my world by accident."

 

The thumping of her pulse increased. She immediately thought of the crumpled letter tucked away in her jacket pocket-warned her about him. About the Devil's Oath. She could not tell him she knew more than she should-not yet.

 

"I'm not working for anyone," she lied. "I just want to find my brother."

 

Adrian's jaw tightened. "Then maybe I should start looking for him too. But my methods..." He darkened. "They are not gentle."

 

The silence between them constricted like a noose, and she hated that a part of her wanted to believe he could help. Then again, the other part dreaded that her brother might be used as leverage, tortured until she broke.

 

He stood up, stepping even closer until he was almost nose to nose with her. "This city is a chessboard, Elena. Everybody is either a piece... or a player. Which one are you?"

 

She lifted her chin. "I'm neither. I'm not playing your game."

 

He smiled-very slowly, with the menace of a cat toying with a mouse. "You are now."

 

Later that night...

 

Elena walked around in the guest bedroom, her thoughts tangled. The rain had eased into a mist, but her apprehension only grew. She needed to relay news to her brother before Adrian could reach him. But every hallway in this place was wired with surveillance, and the guards outside her door were the type that weren't easily bribed-they quietly killed.

 

There was a knock. She froze.

 

The door creaked open, and a man she didn't recognize stepped inside. Tall, with pale gray eyes and a scar cutting across his cheek, he bore no visible weapon, but something about him radiated danger.

 

"Adrian sent me," the man said, deep voice tinged with boredom. "He wants you in the study."

 

Her belly twisted. "Why?"

 

He shrugged. "Guess you'll find out."

 

She followed him along the dimly lit corridor, each step seeming heavier than the last. The door to the study was already thrown open, and outside spilled some warmly glowing light from the fire.

 

Adrian was seated behind a huge desk with a thin folder in front of him. He looked at her as she entered, and his expression was unreadable.

 

"Sit."

 

She did, and her pulse sped up.

 

He slid the folder toward her. "You are going to explain this."

 

Her stomach sank when she saw the photograph on top-her brother, alive but clearly terrified, with bound hands, in a darkened warehouse.

 

Her voice trembled. "What did you do?"

 

Adrian's gaze never faltered. "Nothing… yet. But I will if you don't start telling me the truth."

 

The tears burned her eyes, but she wouldn't let them fall. "You can't just—"

 

"I can," he interrupted. "And I will. Unless you make me believe you're worth keeping alive… and keeping him alive."

 

She stared at him, each syllable weighing almost too heavily. He had her cornered; every exit sealed. But something inside her-the same reckless spark she had allowed to lead her into his world-refused to bend completely.

 

"Fine," she whispered. "I'll play your game. But you are going to regret it."

 

For the first time, Adrian's smirk reached his eyes. "We'll see, little dove. We'll see."

 

The rain was beginning again outside.

 

And inside, the real game was beginning.

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