Shadows of Steel (The Shadowforged Duet #1)

Prologue

Harlow

The door rattles, an ominous sound that slithers through the silence like a slow-acting poison.

I can’t look away.

My gaze is anchored to the door, tethered by an unseen force.

Every nerve in my body coils tight, every instinct screaming for action, for movement, for escape, but I remain frozen.

Blood surges in my ears, muffling the outside world as adrenaline floods my veins.

My survival instincts claw at me, but they crash against the weight of familiarity.

I know this routine too well.

Numb.

That’s what I am.

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve endured this same oppressive dread, how many nights I’ve listened to the same drunken stumbles and slurred threats.

But tonight is different.

He’s more relentless, more determined.

Maybe it’s the alcohol coursing through his system, or maybe he’s simply decided that tonight, at last, he’ll get what he wants.

The door shudders again, harder this time.

The sound grates against my skin like sandpaper.

My fists clench so tightly my nails bite into my palms, a sharp sting blooming in the creases of my hands.

The wetness of blood anchors me.

Focus.

I need to focus.

Focus on anything except him.

Yet my gaze snaps back to the door, to the knob twisting violently beneath his impatient grip.

My breath hitches.

My pulse hammers against my ribs.

I have to do something.

This house.

This prison.

A gilded cage wrapped in rot.

It was meant to be a sanctuary, but it never was.

My mother’s boyfriend, her loathsome, entitled parasite of a lover, has ensured that. And Carmela?

She’s no better. Neglectful. Vain. A woman so consumed by appearances she’s wilfully blind to the monster she invited into our lives.

He’ll get in.

I know it.

I feel it.

A suffocating helplessness unfurls in my chest, winding around my lungs like constricting vines.

I despise the way it paralyzes me.

No, despise is too mild, I loath it.

More than him.

More than this house.

This powerlessness is the real enemy.

The relentless pounding of my own blood drowns out everything else.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

I should have left long ago.

I traded one devil for another, the cold, calculated shadows of my grandfather’s empire, a world built on power and loyalty bound by blood, for the unpredictable chaos of this house.

At least with him, danger had rules.

Here, it is boundless.

Suffocating. A slow, insidious poison that erodes every shred of security.

The lock gives way.

The door swings open.

And there he is.

Troy Baker.

His very name curdles my blood.

He sways slightly, glassy eyes sweeping the room before settling on me, his gaze weighted with a sickening sense of entitlement.

A smirk carves across his face, razor-sharp with arrogance.

Even from here, the acrid stench of whiskey and sweat reaches me, turning my stomach.

“You think you can just walk around here, acting like you’re untouchable?”

he sneers, his words slurred.

“You’re not.

And I will finally prove it to you.”

His hand shoots out, and before I can react, he crashes forward.

The sudden impact drives me into the mattress, his weight suffocating.

I'm engulfed by his scent, his presence, the crushing weight of his body.

His hands roam over me, searing through the thin fabric of my pyjamas, offering no barrier against his touch.

My skin recoils, revulsion curdling in my stomach, bile rising in my throat.

I want to scream, to fight, but fear and rage coil around me like iron shackles, rendering me motionless.

“You’re mine.”

He growls, his rancid breath scorching the side of my face.

Panic claws its way up my throat, but something else surges alongside it—anger.

A deep, seething rage that crackles like wildfire through my veins.

My hand flails, searching, reaching.

My fingers brush against the cool, solid weight of the lamp on the nightstand.

I falter for just a second, but then instinct takes over.

I grip it tightly, lifting it with every ounce of strength I possess and bringing it down in one violent arc.

The impact is sickening, a dull, wet crack, followed by the sharp shatter of glass.

Troy recoils with a guttural sound, lurching backward.

He loses his balance, tumbling off the bed and crashing onto the floor.

Shards of glass bite into his flesh, one jagged piece embedding itself in the side of his neck.

Blood wells, then spills in thick rivulets, staining his skin, his shirt, the floor beneath him.

I scramble away, my breath a series of sharp, uneven gasps.

My heart slams against my ribs as I watch him stagger, hands pressing to his throat in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding.

His lips part, but no sound escapes.

His body jerks once, twice, a wet, rattling choke slipping from his throat.

Then, finally, he stills.

The room is quiet now, save for the ragged sound of my breathing and the faint, sickening wheeze that lingers before fading into silence.

My hands tremble.

My pulse pounds in my skull.

I can’t move.

The silence barely has time to settle before the door bursts open.

Carmela.

My mother.

Her scream tears through the air, shrill and grating.

She rushes to Troy’s side, her expression a contorted mask of fury and disbelief, eyes flicking between me and the blood pooling at her feet.

“What did you do?”

she shrieks, her voice wild with hysteria.

“You stupid, ungrateful bitch! What have you done?”

I don’t respond.

What’s the point? She’s already decided this is my fault.

She always has.

Her accusations spill like venom, each word more toxic than the last.

“You’ve always wanted to ruin me! Always! You’ve never been anything but a burden! I should’ve gotten rid of you when I had the chance.”

Her fury crashes over me, a tidal wave of vitriol, but I remain unmoved.

The accusations spill from her lips, yet they hold no power over me.

I have heard it all before.

I have endured it.

Silently, I turn away, my hands moving with purpose as I reach for my backpack and sling it over my shoulder.

The weight of it is nothing compared to the chains I am leaving behind.

For the first time, it feels like freedom.

I stride past her, past Troy’s lifeless form, and step through the door without remorse.

This escape was long overdue.

Behind me, the silence deepens, the slow, rhythmic dripping stops.