Chapter 43
Whispers of a Dead Friend
The morning light filters reluctantly through the heavy drapes of the master bedroom, casting pale, golden streaks across the dark floorboards.
It is the first glimpse of sun after days of relentless, depressing rain.
Outside, the New York sky is a bleak, slate grey, signalling the brutal approach of winter.
The air inside the room carries a sharp chill, a constant reminder of the changing season.
Lucius sits motionless on the edge of the mattress for a long moment.
His broad shoulders are tense, weighed down by the invisible ghosts of his syndicate.
He lets the quiet of the morning anchor him before he finally stands, running a hand through his dark hair, and heads into the adjoining bathroom to take a warm shower before the chaos of the day demands his attention.
On the other side of the expansive bed, Tessa stirs awake against the silk sheets.
She pulls a plush side pillow tight against her chest, burying her face in its warmth.
A soft, involuntary smile touches her lips as vivid memories of the previous night with Lucius flood her mind—the fierce possessiveness of his touch, the quiet intensity of his words.
However, the warmth fades quickly as a dull, agonizing throb settles right behind her eyes.
She presses the palm of her hand against her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut.
The heavy, sickening weight of a hangover pins her to the mattress, making even the soft morning light feel like an assault.
A quiet, disciplined knock sounds at the heavy bedroom door, breaking the silence.
"Come in," Tessa calls out, her voice slightly raspy and strained from exhaustion.
The bedroom door clicks open, and the maid enters with quiet, practiced steps.
In her hands, she carries a tall glass filled with a potent, dark liquid—a specialized hangover cure.
Seeing Tessa wince and shield her eyes from the window, the maid’s expression softens with sympathy.
She walks over to the side of the bed, setting the glass on the nightstand.
With a comforting, almost maternal familiarity, the maid reaches down and gently rubs the back of Tessa’s head, offering a soothing touch to ease the pressure.
"Drink this, miss," the maid says softly, her voice a low murmur. "It will clear your head in no time."
"My head is hurting so badly," Tessa admits, leaning into the gentle touch for a second before carefully pushing herself up against the headboard. She takes a grateful, slow sip of the bitter remedy, closing her eyes as the coolness hits her throat.
Within a few minutes, the heavy glass door of the bathroom slides open.
A cloud of thick, warm steam spills into the bedroom, bringing with it the crisp scent of Lucius’s cologne.
Lucius steps out, a dark towel slung low around his waist, droplets of water still glistening on his tattooed chest.
He stops tracking his movements when his dark eyes land on Tessa.
His gaze, usually cold and unreadable to the rest of the world, softens into something deeply intimate.
"Good morning, darling," he says, his deep, commanding voice cutting through the quiet room like velvet.
He walks closer to the bed, looking down at her pale face.
"Today I have a massive amount of work to attend to at the syndicate. If you want to enjoy yourself and pass the time, you can call Emily and Olivia. Today, you have my permission to go outside."
Tessa looks up at him, her eyes widening slightly.
A genuine, radiant flash of happiness brightens her face, wiping away the exhaustion of her hangover.
She looks more alive in this single moment than she has in the entire past month.
Being trapped indoors under strict security has felt like a slow suffocation, and the sudden prospect of freedom tastes sweeter than anything.
Without losing a single second, she snatches her phone from the nightstand.
Her fingers fly across the screen as she messages Emily—the one friend who always takes absolute charge of their social life, instantly planning exactly when they go, where they go, and what they do.
Lucius watches her frantic typing, a low, rare chuckle escaping his chest. "Always messaging Emily first, I see."
Tessa glances up from her screen, a knowing, playful smile touching her lips. "You know exactly why. If I don't let her plan it, she will lecture me for a week."
"Yeah, I know," Lucius replies smoothly, his playful demeanor vanishing in a split second, replaced by the calculating mask of a mafia don.
He steps directly up to the edge of the bed, leaning down slightly so his shadow falls over her.
His tone turns dead serious. "By the way, when Emily asks where Victor is, you give her a specific answer. Tell her he is away for urgent work. Tell her he is in Texas, stationed near a military base, which is why he cannot take any incoming calls.
Tell her his phone is completely switched off due to security protocols."
Tessa’s smile fades, replaced by a look of sharp understanding.
She reads between his lines perfectly. She knows Lucius’s world is built on dangerous secrets, and she understands he does not want to talk with a civilian woman about a ruthless honey trap operation—especially not Emily, who is Victor’s girlfriend.
He is shielding Emily from the blood and deception of their reality.
"And Alex must stay in the house at all times," Tessa adds, her voice steady as she confirms the protective security perimeter Lucius always establishes around her.
She looks up into his dark eyes, offering a faint, mocking salute. "Yes, Mr Blackwood."
Lucius’s jaw tightens slightly at the teasing title, a dark spark igniting in his eyes.
He moves purposefully toward the walk-in wardrobe, pulling on a sleek, heavy black leather motorcycle jacket over his dark clothes.
Today, his destination is the twentieth underground base—the massive, highly classified nerve centre of his operations, where fourteen of his most elite tech and security members work around the clock.
Before turning his back to leave the room, he walks back to the bed.
He grips Tessa’s chin gently but firmly, tilting her face up, and kisses her deeply.
It is a possessive, lingering kiss that tastes of unspoken promises, leaving her breathless and flushed against the pillows.
Breaking the kiss, Lucius turns and heads down the grand staircase into the living room.
The maid is already standing waiting near the exit, holding a glass of fresh, chilled juice.
Lucius takes the glass, draining it in one long swallow, before placing it back on the silver tray with a sharp, echoing click.
"Take care of her," Lucius instructs the maid, his voice dropping to a low, authoritative undertone that brooks no argument. "And when she goes out to meet with Emily and Olivia, you go with her. Do not let her out of your sight."
"Of course, Sir. I will take care of everything," the maid answers with a respectful bow of her head.
Lucius snatches his heavy helmet from the console table, stepping into the private elevator.
The doors slide shut, plunging him into the descent down to the reinforced private garage.
He approaches his custom Ducati Diavel, a beast of matte black steel.
He mounts the bike, settles his helmet over his head, and fires the ignition.
The engine sparks to life with a brutal, deafening roar that vibrates violently through the concrete walls of the garage.
He twists the throttle, and with a loud, aggressive scream of rubber, he tears away, vanishing like a shadow into the dark, narrow alleyways of New York City.
The ride takes roughly thirty minutes through the freezing wind. Lucius pulls up outside the nondescript warehouse that masks the entrance to Base 20. Kael, his loyal lieutenant, is already waiting outside in the freezing cold, a lit cigarette resting between his fingers.
As Lucius kills the roaring engine and pulls off his helmet, Kael steps forward, throwing the cigarette to the ground and stomping it out. His face is pale and grim. "Kai has already left for Italy. He crossed the border an hour ago."
"Good," Lucius says, his voice clipping the air as he steps off the heavy bike. "And what about the unfinished records? Did your team manage to recover the twenty encrypted call records from the old server?"
"We found a lot more than just calls, Boss," Kael explains, his expression darkening as he leads Lucius through the heavy, reinforced steel security doors.
They descend a flight of concrete stairs, walking deeper into the fortified underground base, talking in hushed tones as they move.
"There is a massive cache of old letters. I have already spent the last few hours reading through them, separating the specific documents you need to see from the junk."
They step into the main floor of the base.
The atmosphere is thick with tension, smelling of stale coffee and hot electronics.
Rows of massive monitors glow with a blinding blue light, throwing a ghostly illumination over the faces of the syndicate's tech crew.
Complex lines of ancient encryption code cascade down the screens like digital rain.
"Those boys are working extra time, pushing through the night before we launch the final strike against Alessio," Kael notes, gesturing to the exhausted but focused men at the desks.
Lucius stops, his cold eyes scanning the glowing monitors. "For now, which hackers are assigned to go directly against Alessio’s personal network?"
"Just Kai, myself, and the older, most experienced senior hackers we have in the ranks," Kael answers, stepping up to a secure, private office door at the back of the base. "The younger ones can't handle Alessio's counter-encryption."
"Well," Lucius mutters, a grim sense of satisfaction settling in his chest. "Keep the pressure on them."
Kael opens the heavy door to the private office, revealing a desk stacked with yellowed, aged papers.
Lucius sighs, sinking his heavy frame onto the leather couch in the corner, the sheer exhaustion of the blood feud weighing on his bones.
At that exact moment, a young boy, looking incredibly small in the sterile environment of the base, quietly approaches the couch.