10. Luna
Luna
Iwake up early, the kind of early when the city is still stretching and the sun is just barely making its presence felt.
Raven is already at the gym, working off some of that extra energy she always seems to have, and Amani—well, Amani is still knocked out in bed, tangled in the sheets like she’s at war with them.
Not a morning person, that one.
So I decided to get out and do something for myself—something simple, quiet, and detached from everything else swirling in my mind.
The farmer's market calls my name, offering fresh produce, flowers, and that rare calm before the storm of the day. It’s almost like a different world—a small oasis hidden within the chaos of New York—a brief escape.
The moment I step outside, a wave of calm sweeps over me, the smell of fresh fruit and flowers wafting in the air.
I can almost forget why I’m here.
It’s nice.
I keep my pace slow, casually browsing the stalls, my fingers trailing over the vibrant displays of fruits and herbs. But even as I try to focus on the normalcy of it all, my instincts stay sharp, my senses tuned in.
Years of training have taught me better than to get too comfortable.
That’s when I catch it. The scent.
A summer breeze. Warm, fresh, almost like the ocean’s touch in the air, but with something deeper underneath. Something... inviting. Something that makes my pulse quicken.
There’s no mistaking it.
He’s here. And not just anywhere—right behind me.
I fight the urge to turn around, to confront him right here and now. Instead, I keep walking, pretending I don’t know he’s tailing me. But every time I turn, every time I try to shake him, I still feel him there.
Like a shadow lingering just out of sight but never out of reach.
It started two days after the fundraiser. At first, it was just a feeling—the subtle awareness of being watched.
Then I started catching glimpses.
A familiar figure in the crowd was gone before I could place him. It became obvious: Someone was following me. No one else seemed to notice, but I knew.
It was as if he could predict my movements, knowing where I would be before I did.
And then, the other day, as I walked through the city with Amani and Raven, a random guy approached us with a flyer in his hand. “VIP access to Club Roma,” he said, practically shoving it into Amani’s hands. "Exclusive night out. No lines, guaranteed entry."
Amani’s eyes lit up immediately. “We’re going, right?” She didn't even give us a chance to respond. Raven just raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, but Amani was relentless. “Come on, Raven. We deserve a night out. No gym, no work. Just... fun.”
Raven sighed, but I could tell Amani wasn’t going to let it go. She was pulling Raven along, grinning from ear to ear. "VIP means VIP men! It's going to be a blast."
Of course, we’re all going. There’s no way to get out of it at that point.
Now, today. Five hours. Five fucking hours.
I try everything—ducking into different shops, cutting through alleys, taking different streets. But no matter what, he stays close.
Too close. Like he’s a goddamn bloodhound, tracking me down.
I glance over my shoulder one last time and catch sight of him, that tall figure in the crowd. His broad shoulders and sharp jawline are unmistakable. And those piercing blue eyes—they always seem to be watching me, even from a distance.
I grit my teeth in response.
Enough is enough.
With a sudden, deliberate move, I duck into an alley away from the city’s prying eyes. The narrow space between buildings is quiet, far removed from the bustling streets I just walked through.
The moment I hear his footsteps follow me in, I turn, facing him head-on.
And there he is.
Vladimir.
I’m about to start wearing garlic perfume and carrying around a wooden stake because regular blades clearly aren’t working on this guy.
That smirk of his, that cocky grin, doesn’t even faze me anymore.
What does faze me, though, is how close he is.
Too fucking close.
He stands just a few inches away, towering over me as if he’s a God and I’m nothing more than a mere mortal.
At 5'4", I barely reach his chest, while he easily clears 6'5"—broad, solid, immovable.
He’s built like a brick wall, and I have to tilt my head just to meet his gaze.
"You’ve been following me all day," I say, crossing my arms over my chest, trying to keep my cool. "What do you want, Vladimir?"
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he closes the gap between us, his presence overwhelming, his arctic eyes never leaving mine.
"You’ve got a lot of attitude for someone who’s been running from me," he murmurs, his voice low, almost taunting.
I raise an eyebrow, standing my ground. "I’m not running. I’m leading you exactly where I want you."
Vladimir smirks, clearly enjoying this little cat-and-mouse game. "We’ll see about that."
And then, without warning, he steps closer, his body pressing into mine, his heat invading my space. My heart races, but I don’t let it show. He’s trying to dominate me, to make me feel small. It’s not gonna work.
He cages me in with his body, his hand grazing against my side as he leans in. "You know," he murmurs, his voice like silk, "I think you’ll look perfect on your knees for me."
“What the FUCK did you just say?”
A flash of fury ignites in my chest. Before I can think twice, I strike.
My knee snaps up, aiming for his ribs. He reacts fast, blocking with his forearm, but I’m already pivoting, twisting out of his hold and slamming my elbow toward his jaw.
He ducks at the last second, but not fast enough to avoid the sharp kick I land against his thigh.
He grunts, staggering back a step, but his smirk remains. "Feisty."
I don’t give him time to recover. I lunge, aiming a punch at his ribs, but he catches my wrist mid-air, twisting me in one swift motion.
I spin with the force, using the momentum to bring my other hand up, striking at his throat.
He barely dodges, his grip tightening around my arm as he pulls me close, our breaths mingling.
"You really think you can take me, Luna?” he taunts, his voice a husky drawl.
I smirk. "I don’t think, Vladimir. I know."
I drop, sweeping his legs out from under him.
He goes down hard, but even as he hits the ground, he pulls me with him.
We crash together, rolling across the alley floor, both fighting for the upper hand.
His strength is raw and brutal, but I’m faster.
I break free, straddling his waist, my knife unsheathed in a blink, the tip pressed just under his jaw.
His chest rises and falls beneath me, his smirk never fading. "Not bad. But you should know something about me."
Before I can react, he shifts beneath me, his sheer power flipping us effortlessly. Now he’s on top, pinning me down, his hands gripping my wrists above my head. The knife clatters to the ground beside us.
His face is inches from mine, his breath warm against my lips. "I like a woman who fights back."
My blood burns, anger, and adrenaline collide. "Get off me."
He leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You gonna make me?"
I move fast, bringing my knee up hard—right where it counts.
He curses, his grip loosening just enough for me to twist out from under him. I roll back onto my feet, yanking my knife from the ground. "I already did."
Then, suddenly, he’s up, and he reaches for my left wrist, his fingers brushing over my skin before I can react. He lifts it gently, turning it just enough to expose the faint scars there. My breath catches as his lips graze over them in a slow, deliberate kiss.
His lips are soft, but the touch is intimate. Too intimate. “What happened here?” he murmurs, his voice quieter now, laced with something deeper.
I yank my wrist back, my walls slamming into place. "Don’t ever do that again."
Vladimir steps back, smirking like he has all the power in the world. "You’re something else, Luna."
He turns to leave, but before he disappears into the alleyway, he pauses, glancing over his shoulder. His eyes lock onto mine, dark and knowing.
"I’ll be seeing you real soon."
And just like that, he’s gone, leaving me standing alone in the alley, my pulse still racing.
I exhale sharply, trying to shake the feeling of his touch, his words, his scent.
I can’t let him get under my skin. I won’t.
But damn it, he already has.
Amani, Raven, and I are in our suite getting ready for the night, the energy buzzing between us like static electricity.
There’s something about the rush of getting dolled up for a night of chaos that’s irresistible.
I stand in front of the mirror, adjusting my dress—a little black number with long sleeves and cut-out shoulders that cuff tightly around my neck.
The plunge down the middle? Bold, daring, just enough to make a statement, especially since I’m rocking the inner side-boob look.
My black leather boots—knee-high with a sleek, thick heel—click on the floor as I sway slightly to the music while I finish fixing my hair.
Amani is straightening her sleek hair, which sits just above her shoulders like she’s stepped right out of a magazine. Her dress is a sparkly, black spaghetti-strapped masterpiece that hugs her hourglass figure, stopping just at mid-thigh. Those pink wrap-up heels? They’re a statement on their own.
And then there’s Raven. Always the one to keep it sleek and sophisticated.
Her dress is simple—a square neckline, long sleeves, and black—but the details on her green Louis Vuitton pumps add that extra flair.
Her long hair is pulled into a ponytail, and the ends curled just enough to make it look like she was born with effortless waves.
She looks like she’s stepped out of an editorial, and the vibe she gives off says Don’t mess with me.
I grin at the three of us. We are a force and about to take over that club tonight.
“Alright,” Amani says, walking over to me, that devilish grin lighting up her face. “I need your honest opinion.”
“What now?” I raise an eyebrow, already knowing what’s coming.