Chapter 8

• ANDRONIKOS
• As I stood in the room, brushing my fingers against the ornate floral patterns on the duvet covers, I felt an odd sense of nostalgia mixed with regret.
• The morning sun bled through the delicate pink curtains, its warmth an unwanted reminder of the room’s previous occupant—my dead sister.
• Selene loved this room very much. My pink haven, she used to called it.
• And while I didn't want to dwell in the past, it was hard to ignore the shadows it cast on my present. Walking away from her room, bittersweet memories flooded my mind, but I ignored them.
• Today, I had other things to deal with, namely, Adira. I had acted like an ass to her last night, something I’d never admit to her but I still felt a need to make up for it somehow.
• With a withdrawn sigh, I pulled a sleek black box from my pocket, my fingers playing over the cool face of the wickedly curved blade of Tuto.
• The ornate knife, though flashy, always seemed to accompany me wherever I go. There was just something soothing about the weight of it, a reminder of the home I’d built in the dark. The only one I’ve ever known.
• Walking into her room, I found her sitting on the edge of the bed, her expression a mix of skepticism and annoyance at my appearance.
• “What are you doing here?” she asked, her arms crossed over her chest like a shield.
• I opened the black box, revealing a new phone and threw it towards her.
• “Consider it a gift. So you can contact your family,” I said, slipping my hands into my pockets.
• Narrowly catching the phone, she stared in disbelief and surprise at the device.
• “What’s your angle?”
• “Luckily for you, I have no angle this time. Just call them. Reassure them. But keep my name out of it. Understood?” She looked at me suspiciously probably not believing me.
• I wouldn't believe me too.
• A moment of silence stretched between us, thick with tension. Her gaze flickered from the phone back to me before she settled on looking at me instead.
• “You expect me to just accept this and forget everything that’s happened—no, scratch that—everything that’s still happening?”
• “I don’t need you to forget,” I said cooly. “Forgetting makes you careless. I need you to remember. Always. Everytime you look at that phone,” I continued, passing a fleeting glance towards the device, “I want you to remember who gave it to you. The man that threatens your entire existence. Íne xekátharo?”
• (Is that clear?)
• She nodded her head in acquiescence, reluctantly accepting the phone. Our fingers brushed together briefly as she took it and I felt a spark that I fervently tried to ignore but my body thought otherwise.
• “Fine,” she muttered, and I felt a flicker of relief despite the lingering fear I caught in her eyes.
• She’d do well to be scared of me, I thought darkly.
• “Good. I’ll let you get settled then.” I said turning to leave.
• “Thank you.” Her voice rang, interrupting my leave. I paused for a while, not acknowledging her greeting before I finally left the room.
• Later that day, as I paced my dimly lit study, my mind was a chaotic whirlwind. I tossed Tuto from hand to hand for comfort, needing an outlet to calm the raging storm that is mind.
• Iason burst though the door, a grim expression on his face.
• “Nónos,” he said, his voice urgent. “There’s been a recent update concerning the brothers. They have been found.”
• “And?”
• “They’re coming after, Adira,” he continued, his voice heavy with concern. The knife slipped from my fingers, clattering against the desk. “They believe she has information.” A cold wave of dread, a feeling I’ve never experienced for anyone besides my family, washed over me.
• “Why the fuck would they think that?” I questioned, picking up my knife.
• “Maybe they saw you two together recently. We need to amp up her protection if you indeed need her for your revenge plan. They seem very dangerous.”
• “Of course they are,” I muttered, feeling the familiar rush of danger creeping in.
• “What do we do?” he said, ready to give his life if I asked for it.
• “We stay vigilant. Keep the brothers under constant watch at the warehouse. I’ll handle them myself. Meanwhile, find their associates. Someone helped them, and I want names,” I said, my mind racing “I’ll make sure she’s safe, but I need her trust first.”
• “Trust?” Iason scoffed. “Good luck with that.”
• “She will,” I said with a dark chuckle. “Trust’s like a knife that cuts both ways. She just has to pray she gets the blunt edge.” I continued, twirling Tuto deftly between my fingers.
• “I’ll never understand your obsession with those things.” he said, shooting me an incredulous look.
• “When have they ever failed me?” I asked, a dark smile aimed his way. “But this isn’t about me. My little captive is in danger, and I need her to cooperate.”
• Iason and I continued discussing our plan, and I felt the weight of responsibility loom above me. My empire was being threatened, including Adira, and I don’t do well with my properties being threatened.
• I’d do whatever it takes to keep her safe, even if it means embracing the passion that’s brewing between us. A part of me can’t help but be drawn to her fiery spirit. Adira was a spark in my otherwise dark world, and I was determined to protect that light.
• I mikrí mou flóga, my little flame.
• After Iason had left, I remained in the study, still devising my next move concerning the brothers and the use of Adira’s company.
• Night had fallen by the time I looked up from my desk. She was probably in her room, still fuming over my pathetic attempt at goodwill. Once again, not my finest moment but I couldn’t exactly blame her. I was a walking contradiction—part protecter, part madness incarnate. One could never be sure which side they’d get with me.
• Still lost in thought, I murmured to my blade, my oldest confidant. “There’s beauty in precision. It’s all about control.”
• “Is that so?” a voice cut through the quiet. Adira stood at the doorway of the study, arms crossed, a look of defiance on her face.
• I wasn’t surprised she managed to find the study. Listening to orders wasn’t her best trait. I smiled to myself, realizing I’d have to work on that.
• “Ah, perfect timing,” I said, feigning nonchalance. “I was just talking to my knife about the beauty of precision. You know, the usual.”
• She rolled her eyes, stepping further into the room.
• “You’re insane. You know that right?” she said, a brow raised in amusement.
• “Insane? No, no, just refined madness,” I said, a smirk ghosting my lips. “Call it an artist’s touch.”
• “More like a psychopath’s”
• “I prefer sociopath, but touché,” I admitted leaning back in my chair. “But you have to admit, there’s a thrill that comes from dealing with danger.”
• “Is that what you tell yourself when you’re gone on your killing spree? That you’re some kind of medieval dark artist in the midst of chaos?”
• “Exactly,” I grinned, feeling an ease in the once mounting tension. “But sculptor is a better word choice though.”
• Her laughter rang out. Rare as it was, I took my time engraving it to my mind so I can repeat it over and over later.
• “You’re ridiculous.” She said breathily, traces of laughter still in her voice. “This—” she gestured between us. “—doesn’t make us friends. But… I’ll call a truce. For now.”
• With that, she left the study, a sway in generous hips I wanted my hands on, desperately.
• With my gaze still on the spot she’d just left, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that we were both teetering on the edge of something profound and terrifying.
• The world around us was made of danger, and I wasn’t sure she was built for it. But if thirty-eight years in the dark had taught me anything, it’s that light, no matter how bright, rarely wins against the shadows.
• Still, I’d protect Adira at all costs, even if it meant dancing once more with the darkness I’d long since made my home.