Chapter 12 The Shadow
THE SHADOW
The light of the Manhattan skyline filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my New York City penthouse, casting a faint glow over the sleek, dark interior. This was where I came to get away from the demands of The Below, to clear my head without the ever-looming presence of my father.
The silence of the space, usually a balm to the chaos of my life, was suffocating this morning. I stared up at the ceiling, the expensive sheets tangled around me, one arm draped over my forehead.
I hadn’t slept. Not really. The brief moments I managed to drift off were consumed by thoughts of her. Vivian. Her name alone was enough to fill my chest with an unfamiliar pressure I didn’t care to examine too closely.
I cursed the erection I got just from the memory of her body pressed against mine in the library, her defiance like a spark setting fire to dry kindling. She had looked at me with those stormy eyes, unyielding even as she trembled. That infuriating combination of fear and boldness...
What the fuck was wrong with me?
Women had never been my weakness. They’d tried to be, of course.
Throwing themselves at me, hoping to entangle me in their petty schemes or satisfy their delusions of taming the untamable.
None of them did it for me. None of them could touch the parts of me I’d locked away so tightly that even I couldn’t fully access them.
They were distractions at best. Irritations at worst.
But Vivian? She was different. Disobedient. Reckless. Always pushing the boundaries of what I expected. And yet…
Yesterday, I’d wanted to fuck her against those bookshelves. Not out of lust—at least not entirely—but to show her who was in charge. To remind her that defiance had consequences. Instead, I’d retreated like some green boy who couldn’t handle the mere sight of a woman.
Pathetic.
A sharp ding pulled me from my thoughts. I reached for my phone on the nightstand, the screen illuminating Eldora’s name. The message was brief, but it was enough to send a wave of anger surging through me.
Eldora: Vivian has visitors in her room.
Visitors? In my house? My estate? Where no one came or went without my express permission?
I clenched my jaw so hard it ached. Throwing off the sheets, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and grabbed the nearest clothes—a black shirt and gray sweatpants.
Functional. Comfortable. I didn’t have time for anything more.
I pulled the shirt over my head, my movements sharp and purposeful as my thoughts churned.
She was pushing me again, testing the limits. And someone, someone stupid enough to think they could get away with it, had helped her.
I strode to the elevator, pressing the button for the private garage.
My penthouse, my sanctuary, was supposed to be where I escaped the pressures of my life.
My “role” as The Shadow, the expectations, the responsibilities—all of it faded here.
In this place, I could be just me. Not the monster. Not the heir. Not the illusion.
But even here, she still haunted me.
Anger coiled tightly in my chest, like a vise threatening to crush my ribs with every breath.
My footsteps echoed sharply against the concrete of the private garage, the sound bouncing off the walls like a physical manifestation of my mood.
Sliding into the driver’s seat of my car, I fired up the engine.
The low growl of the machine vibrated under me, but even its hum couldn’t drown out the storm of thoughts crashing in my head.
The streets blurred past as I navigated to the tear in the Veil in a nondescript garage hidden in the city’s labyrinthine layout.
No one else knew about this tear. It was a secret I guarded fiercely.
Its obscurity ensured my comings and goings would remain unnoticed.
I parked the car and stepped out into the cold night air.
The Veil shimmered faintly as I approached, its edges warping reality just enough to feel disorienting.
I passed through, the energy around me thickening briefly before giving way to the familiar grounds of my estate.
My estate stretched before me in the early dawn light.
It should have calmed me, this reminder of my dominion, but each step across the grounds only sharpened my anger.
Shadows clung to the edges of the path, restless and alive, feeding on the intensity radiating from me.
I had no time for reflection. Not tonight.
As I neared the main house, I pulled out my phone and quickly fired off a text to Jareth to meet me at the estate.
I clenched my jaw as I put my phone back into my pocket.
Jareth would come quickly as always. He thrived on chaos—the messier the better—but his loyalty was reliable even if his humor grated on my last nerve.
I could trust him to handle the unexpected, which was a necessary counterbalance to the rigidity of Luca’s approach.
When I reached Vivian’s room, I pushed the door open without knocking, the cool brass handle grounding me just enough to keep me from immediately snapping.
But the scene inside ripped through the last threads of my restraint.
Celeste and Vivian were curled up in bed together, fast asleep, while Luca lounged in a chair, his head tilted back as if he had every right to be here.
The fucking audacity.
I cleared my throat loudly, the sound cutting through the stillness like a blade. Luca startled awake, his eyes snapping open as he shot upright in the chair. The sheer terror in his expression satisfied me in a way I didn’t care to admit.
“Get your woman out of here before I kill her.”
Luca was on his feet and at the side of the bed in an instant. Celeste stirred, trying to make sense of the chaos. The moment realization hit, she erupted.
“Luca, put me down,” she yelled, thrashing in his arms as he scooped her up. “You don’t have to listen to him!”
“Celeste,” Luca ground out through clenched teeth, “this is his house. We have to go.”
Her glare could have melted stone. “This is ridiculous. I’m going to talk to Vincenzo about this. Vivian shouldn’t be here! This is insane!”
“Out,” I snapped.
Vivian stirred at the sound, her tear-streaked face turning toward me. She sat up, her eyes glassy but filled with a quiet desperation.
“Please don’t make them leave,” she whispered, her voice breaking.
Before I could respond, the door creaked, and Jareth stepped in, his presence immediately filling the space. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his golden-brown eyes glinting with amusement as he took in the chaos.
“Well, isn’t this cozy?” he drawled. “I didn’t know we were having a slumber party.”
I turned my glare on him, barely containing the volcanic temper simmering beneath the surface. “Not now, Jareth.”
He raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin never faltering. “Sure, sure. Just enjoying the show.”
Luca started toward the door, Celeste still cursing and thrashing in his arms. He made it halfway past me before I stepped into his path, blocking his way.
“You better go back the way you came,” I said, my voice low and venomous. “Sneaking into my house in the middle of the night like the coward you are? Unacceptable.”
Luca’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. He turned sharply, heading for the window. He helped Celeste climb through first, her glare promising retaliation. Luca followed without glancing back, his shoulder tensed.
The room fell silent, save for Vivian’s quiet sobs. I turned to her, my gaze cold and unrelenting. “You’re lucky I didn’t kill them both.”
Her head snapped up, and fire lit in her eyes. “Lucky?” she spat. “If you’re going to keep me here like a prisoner, the least you could do is let me have my friends or my equipment.”
When I didn’t respond, she continued, “I’ve been working on a project, something very important to me, and I can’t just let my entire life die along with my independence in this fucking hellhole you call a home!”
I stared at her, her defiance momentarily throwing me off balance. She was bold—foolishly so—but I couldn’t ignore the spark. My mind worked, weighing her words against my need for control.
Before I could respond, Jareth spoke, his tone light but laced with a pointed edge. “She’s got a point, boss. A woman’s gotta have her tools. You wouldn’t take away my daggers, would you?”
Vivian stared at him with visceral disgust. “Who the fuck are you?”
He chuckled and gave a mock bow. “I’m Jareth. At your service, madam.”
“Do you ever stop talking?” I ground out.
“Not when I have something profound to say,” he said, his grin widening.
“Go to my office. I need to update you on some things,” I said.
“Of course,” Jareth said, pushing off the doorframe.
The silence hung heavy between Vivian and me after he departed. Finally, I spoke. “I’ll think about it.” The fire in her eyes flickered but wasn’t entirely extinguished. “In the meantime, get dressed. We have a wedding to plan.”
Her expression faltered, a mix of disbelief and resentment flashing across her face. “Wedding planning?”
“Yes,” I said, my tone leaving no room for argument.
This woman was a storm, and I was standing in the eye of it, unable to move. She was fire, defiance, and chaos.
And she was mine.
The office felt colder than usual, its chill seeping into my veins, making every breath feel heavier.
The silence was oppressive, wrapping itself around the space as I shut the door firmly behind Jareth.
The sharp click of the latch echoed through the room, punctuating the stillness.
I moved toward my desk with purpose, each step deliberate, though my thoughts churned with less order.
Behind me, Jareth was already making himself at home, lounging against the bookshelf like he owned the place. Arms crossed, smirk firmly in place, he looked every bit the predator at ease—composed, self-assured, and utterly insufferable.