KIERAN
I leaned back in my chair, eyes closed, letting the leather groan beneath me as I slowly swiveled. The room was silent—just the steady hum of city life muffled by thick glass. As I opened my eyes, a knock echoed at the door.
"Boss, it's Alex," came a familiar male voice.
"Come in," I said, eyes drifting to the glass wall ahead. The sky outside was gray—thick with the promise of rain. Just as the door opened, I checked my watch.
Almost seven.
My two princesses will be finishing up their classes soon.
Alex stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him. He approached my desk and stopped a few feet away, professional as always.
"Boss, I have the information you requested."
I turned my head slowly, eyes narrowing on him.
"Go on."
"The kid's name is Jaden Night. Son of Morian and Rebecca Night—both dancers. He grew up in a stable home. The couple separated, but the father got custody. No criminal records. Clean."
I gave a slow nod. "So the boy's from a family of dancers, huh."
My lips twitched in amusement.
Alex looked up from the file and nodded. "Yes, boss. I dug deep. There's nothing shady on him. Not a single red flag."
I leaned forward, tapping my fingers against the desk—rhythmic, thoughtful.
"What's the move, boss?" Alex interrupted. "Should we pick him up? Get rid of him?"
I looked up at him, still tapping. Then I smirked, exhaled, and rose from my seat slowly.
"Get rid of him?" I murmured, walking toward the glass wall overlooking Manhattan.
"I'm… conflicted," I said with a smile that didn't reach my eyes.
Alex blinked. "Conflicted, boss? You?"
"Just say the word," he added quickly, eager. "We'll get rid of the daddy's boy and dispose of his body however you want."
I chuckled—low, dark. He was so quick to please.
"Tempting," I said. "But do you know why I'm conflicted? Or what part of me is?"
He swallowed. Loud enough for me to hear. "Uh… no, boss."
I placed a hand on the glass, watching the swarm of people moving below—so many lives, directions, masks. Among them could be a killer. A saint. A liar. But they all walked the same.
So really—who's better than who?
"You see, Alex… it would be so easy to snuff out that light in his innocent blue eyes. The way he looks at my woman with warmth—like he has a right to."
I flicked my fingers. "Just like that. Gone."
"Would I feel a thing?"
He shook his head. Smart boy.
"No," I said. "That's where you're wrong. I would."
I turned slightly, catching his confused expression.
"You see… Knight, Kier, me—same man. I've done what I wanted, taken what I needed. No fear. No consequences. No guilt."
"But now… there's someone in my life. Someone that if she ever feels pain…"
I trailed off, my voice dropping into something cold.
"I'd bring hurt to the entire world."
For a second, I thought I saw her face in the glass—but it vanished.
"Knight wants to end the kid. Rip him apart. But I don't. Not because I care for him—fuck no. But because hurting him might hurt her."
"The pain or sadness she will feel might last a day. Maybe two. But I don't want even a moment of that pain on her face."
I raked a hand through my hair and turned fully to him.
"So to answer your question, Alex…"
I smirked.
"Let the handsome dancer live to see another day."
Alex nodded. "Okay, boss."
I gave a short nod and made my way back to my chair. He turned to leave, taking that as his cue, but I stopped him.
"And Alex… keep an eye on him."
He turned back. "Yes, boss."
I faced the window again as he walked out, the door clicking shut behind him.
Silence.
The low hum of the city buzzed faintly through the glass. The only other sound was the slow, steady tick of the sleek black clock on the wall. I lowered myself into the chair, the leather sighing beneath me. My fingers traced the desk's edge, tapping absently.
Jaden Night.
The name rolled around in my head like a loose screw. He wasn't a threat—yet. But sometimes, innocence was the sharpest blade. Too pure, too soft... it could melt walls. It could draw people in.
It already drew her.
My phone buzzed on the desk, snapping me out of the spiral.
Text message: "Girls just finished dance. We're heading out." — L
A small smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.
I replied with a quick tap:
"On my way. Stop at the café."
I stood again, brushing down my coat and buttoning it smoothly.
As I stepped out of the office, my secretary looked up. I gave her a glance. She nodded—already knowing.
Three of my men silently fell in behind me.
We moved like a shadowed procession to the elevator. As the doors slid shut with a soft whoosh, another buzz lit up my phone.
New message: "Spotted leaving Maison Noire."
It came with a photo.
I opened it.
Keenan, leaving the underground club. His men trailing behind like loyal dogs.
A slow smirk curved my lips as I pocketed the phone.
The elevator doors opened into the underground garage. The chill hit first, followed by the echo of our footsteps on concrete.
We moved toward the car. I slid into the driver's seat and turned to one of my men in the back.
"You know what to do?"
He nodded without hesitation.