“𝑀𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑛’𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘. 𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑠, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑘 𝑖𝑛 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒.”

~Zade's Pov

The phone rang once. Twice.

I picked it up before the third.

Adrian’s voice cut through the line. Sharp, commanding. “Come over early. At three.”

I leaned back against the leather headrest, drumming my fingers once against my temple. “My shift starts at five.” My voice matched his—unbothered. Cold.

“Then come early. And take care.”

Click.

The line went dead.

Typical Adrian. Always precise. Always secretive.

And always right.

There was no space for rebellion when it came to Adrian Whitmore. Especially not when you owed your freedom—and your scars—to him.

I stood from the black marble bench where I'd been cleaning my pistol. Its glossy metal gleamed under the warm light. My gloves, stained with oil, rested beside it. I had been prepping for a field op tonight, but apparently, plans had changed.

A different kind of mission now.

One involving her.

Lilia Whitmore.

I didn’t let the thought sit for long. It didn’t matter whether she remembered me or not. I wasn’t there to be remembered. I was there to protect.

Still, there were moments.

The dusting of freckles across her nose.

I remembered.

But remembering was dangerous. And I wasn’t in the business of soft things.

I changed into my black dress shirt—custom-stitched silk, sleek as sin, tailored to my frame like it was molded from shadow. My pants were Hugo, sharp lines and darker than midnight. The watch on my wrist? An Audemars Piguet, obsidian black, titanium trim. Cost more than a car. A whisper of menace wrapped in elegance.

I ran a hand through my hair, grabbed my keys, and sent Adrian a quick message:

"On my way."

Time: 2:49.

I could get there in twenty minutes if I drove like I used to—before the army. Before the blood.

Sliding into the seat of my matte black Lamborghini Urus, I ignited the engine. The sound was a growl—a beast waking up.

The kind of car that didn’t just say something—it warned.

Leather interior. Custom combat-grade features. Armored windows, just in case.

This wasn’t for show. This was for survival.

As I pulled out of the underground lot, my phone buzzed with a reminder.

LILIA’S FIRST DAY – STAY SHARP.

Adrian never missed a detail.

I sped down the freeway, cutting through the city like a shadow. Music off. Mind blank. Focus honed razor-sharp.

And yet  her name kept echoing.

Lilia.

The girl with fire in her laugh and a graveyard behind her eyes.

I’ve seen her in a way no one else ever will. The world sees her strength, but I’ve seen the fear behind her fire, the war behind her silence. I’ve seen her break—and still choose to rise. The way I’ve known her, no one ever will.

That side of her—only I was meant to witness.

She had tiny freckles across her cheeks. I memorized them all.

Back then, I wasn’t anyone. I was no one then just a shadow that clung to her. She never saw me, not truly. But I saw everything.The cracks in her voice, the tremble in her rage, the way she broke. And I memorized it all. I fed on it. Because even shadows can feel—twisted, ravenous, and all-consuming. And what I felt for her was never gentle.

( Ik most of you are definitely not gonna read the last note *crying emogi* so this is the only wayyy. After reading the chapter make sure to read the last note for much faster updates!! Also do follow me here :- {for spoiler, updates, intense scenes}

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She thought she was alone in those nights. She wasn’t. I was there, to help her, even if she doesn't remembers and not out of pity—no, I don't believe in pity. I believe in knowing. And I knew her better than she knew herself. I watched her fight, bleed, break—and still walk like the world owed her its knees.

Everyone else saw her self pleased. I saw the cost. And that version of her the one stripped raw and unguarded—that version will always belong to me. Not because she gave it. Because I took it. I claimed it in silence, in the way shadows do—quiet, patient, never asking, never leaving.

She was a wildfire. But I was the smoke that wrapped around her, filled her lungs, stayed long after the flame was gone. And even now, if she ever looked back she'd find me there. Still burning. Still hers.

————————————————

I reached her new penthouse by 3:07. Close enough.

The mansion was newer—clean lines, intimidating glass, far from the opulence of the Whitmore estate. More modern. But still cold.

I got out of the car, adjusted my sleeves, and glanced at the ribbon tied on the front door. A massive red bow. Adrian had a twisted sense of humor.

The front door was open. Careless.

Or trusting.

Either way, I stepped inside. Quiet. Controlled. Alert.

And then I saw her.

She was in the middle of the living room. Tank top. Shorts. Headphones on.

Dancing. Spinning.

Completely lost in her own world.

For a second, I didn’t move. I just watched.

She had no idea she wasn’t alone.

Her hips swayed, lips mouthing lyrics. She looked untouched by the world. Like this room was her sanctuary. Her escape.

And for some twisted reason, it felt like I was trespassing.

On something sacred.

But I didn’t stop.

Because monsters don’t knock. We enter.

She turned then—eyes locking with mine.

Everything stilled.

The color drained from her face as she froze, her chest rising fast. Panic.

She stumbled back, grabbed something—scissors?—and aimed them at me with trembling hands.

“Who are you?!” she barked. “Stay back! I swear I’ll call the police! You can’t kidnap me! My bodyguard is here and he’ll—he’ll break every bone in your body!”

Amusement curled in my chest like smoke. She didn’t even know.

“Sweetheart,” I said, stepping forward, my voice low. Velvet wrapped in iron. “If you’re trying to threaten me, at least point the scissors in the right direction.”

She blinked.

Realized she was aiming them at herself.

Cute.

Adorable.

Flushed with embarrassment, she corrected her grip, but her hands were still shaking.

“How did you get in?” she demanded again, backing into the marble counter.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.

Instead, I stalked toward her, slow and deliberate, until she was forced to look up at me. Her breath hitched. She was so close now I could see the way her pupils dilated. The tiny shimmer of sweat at her temple.

I leaned in, close enough to smell the faint trace of vanilla and sugar clinging to her skin.

“Do you even know who I am?” she whispered, trying to sound braver than she was.

I reached out and effortlessly curled my fingers around her wrist. The scissors clattered to the floor.

“Lilia Whitmore,” I murmured near her ear. “Twenty years old. Model. Face of Velmoria.”

She went still.

I could feel the confusion radiating off her. But beneath it—was something else.

Curiosity. Heat.

I leaned in closer. My voice dropped.

“Aren’t you curious to know who I really am?”

“No,” she whispered.

Liar.

I watched the shiver ripple down her spine. Saw the goosebumps bloom across her arms. My grip on her wrist tightened slightly—just enough to remind her who was in control.

She didn’t pull away.

I could see every freckle on her face now.

Still there. Faint. Beautiful.

She was the same girl and yet not.

Suddenly, her breathing became shallow.

“Breathe, Lilia,” I whispered.

And then her eyes widened in horror.

She realized.

She was completely alone.

And I wasn’t the kind of man you wanted in your house.

But it was too late.

Because I wasn’t just inside her home.

I was already inside the storm she’d been trying to escape.

And this time?

I wasn’t 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔.

───────────────────────

•𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞

So maybe this chapter wasn’t a literary masterpiece—but I swear I gave it my whole twisted, sleep-deprived hea

rt.

Zade’s voice? Loud. Obsessive. Unapologetic.

And yes, I gave it 100%.

But hey, the next chapter?(Only if we hit the target *crying emogi*)

That one will come for your soul. Darker. Deeper. Better.