Chapter 14 ARTAN
ARTAN
Luan and I are in the office. Papers spread across the desk in organized chaos. Maps. Contact lists. We're strategizing. Adjusting plans. Moving forward now that we have the Council's support, tentative and conditional as it is.
The morning light filters through the half-closed blinds, casting lines across Luan's face. He looks better than he has in weeks. Stronger. More present. His fingers tap a steady rhythm against the armrest of his chair, controlled and deliberate.
"Erion is on his way. We need to finalize tonight."
Luan nods once. "The Irish warehouse on the south side. Fast. Clean. Send a message."
"Agreed."
We've already discussed the details. Who goes in. Who stays back as backup. What gets destroyed. What gets left behind as warning. The kind of planning that's become second nature after years of this life.
Tonight changes things. Solidifies the alliance with Erion in blood and action. Proves to everyone watching that we're serious. That the Krasniqi clan isn't weakened by transition, isn't vulnerable despite the leadership change.
A knock at the door interrupts my thoughts.
"Come in," Luan says.
The door opens. Lily appears in the doorway, hesitant in that way she has. Like she's still not sure she's allowed to interrupt, still testing the boundaries of her place here.
"Breakfast is ready," she says. Her voice is soft, careful not to intrude. "It's a beautiful morning. Would you like to eat outside?"
I hesitate. Look at Luan. His eyes are still sensitive to bright light despite the improvements. It can trigger headaches that leave him disoriented and irritable.
"Fresh air sounds good," Luan says before I can voice my concern. His mouth curves slightly. Almost a smile. "I'll wear the sunglasses."
Lily smiles in response. Those dimples appear, deep and genuine, transforming her face from pretty to something that hits harder. Something that makes looking away feel like effort.
Something in my chest tightens. A sensation I've been trying to ignore for days now.
"I'll get everything ready," she says. "Come out in ten minutes?"
She turns to leave.
"Lily."
She stops. Looks back at me. Blue eyes curious.
"You settling in alright?"
The question feels inadequate the moment it leaves my mouth. Too casual for what I'm actually asking. Too surface-level when what I want to know is whether she regrets this choice. Whether she feels safe here. Whether we've trapped her in something she can't escape.
"Everything's fine," she says. The reassurance sounds automatic, practiced. The voice of someone who's learned to say fine even when nothing is.
Then she's gone. The door closing softly behind her.
Luan leans back in his chair. The leather creaks under his weight. "You can relax, Artan."
I don't respond. Don't point out that relaxing isn't something I do well. That vigilance is what's kept both of us alive this long.
"I won't have another outburst," he continues. His voice is firm and certain. "My sight is improving every day. My uncle is on board, at least temporarily. The Irish situation will be handled tonight. Everything is returning to control."
Control.
I want to trust his assessment. Want to believe that the worst is behind us, that we can stabilize and move forward without the constant threat of crisis looming over every decision.
But I've learned not to trust calm. It's usually just the pause before the next storm. The breath before the blow.
We stand. Move toward the door. I'm already mentally running through the logistics for tonight when the doorbell rings.
I check the security feed on my phone. Erion's face fills the frame, grinning at the camera.
Crazy bastard.
I buzz him in. The lock disengages with a soft click.
He walks through the door seconds later. His presence changes the air pressure in the room, making everything feel slightly off-balance.
"Perfect timing," he says. That grin widening. "I'm starving."
"We're having breakfast outside," Luan says.
"Even better."
I open the glass doors that lead to the terrace.
The space opens up before us. Expansive.
Professionally designed by someone who understood that wealth isn't just about having money, it's about displaying it in ways that feel effortless.
Sleek outdoor furniture in charcoal gray, cushions thick enough to be comfortable but structured enough to maintain their shape.
Planters filled with greenery. The view stretches out beyond the railing, Chicago sprawling in the distance, clean and ordered from this height.
Up here, everything looks manageable. Contained. The chaos of the streets smoothed into geometric patterns.
It's an illusion. But a convincing one.
The table is set for two.
Lily is setting down a platter of food as we step outside. Scrambled eggs fluffy and perfectly cooked. Toast with butter already melting. Fresh fruit arranged with care. Bacon crisp just how I like it.
"Lily," I say. "Set two more places. For Erion and yourself."
She hesitates. Her hands still on the platter. Uncertainty crosses her face, a flicker of something that looks like confusion about whether she's allowed to sit with us.
"You're one of the gang now. Our partner in crime," Erion says. His voice is light, teasing, but there's truth underneath the humor.
Luan laughs. A real laugh, the kind that comes from his chest. Light. Unforced. The sound is so unexpected that it takes me a moment to process it.
I find myself smiling despite everything. Despite the violence planned for tonight. Despite the precarious position we're all in. Despite knowing this moment of ease is temporary.
Lily disappears inside. Returns moments later with more plates balanced carefully in her hands. More silverware that catches the morning light. She sets a place for Erion across from Luan. Then one for herself across from me, her movements efficient and practiced.
She sits down carefully, like she's still not entirely sure this is allowed.
We eat.
The atmosphere shifts. Lightens in ways I haven't experienced in years. The kind of easy comfort that makes you forget, just for a moment, about the weight of everything else.
Luan is relaxed. His posture loose, shoulders no longer carrying tension. He looks younger like this. Less burdened by the crown he inherited through violence.
I realize it's been years since I've seen him this way. Long enough that I'd almost forgotten what he looked like without the weight.
Erion is in his element. Talking. Gesturing with his fork. Teasing Lily in ways that make her laugh, soft sounds that transform her face. She responds with gentle humor, not intimidated by him the way most people are. Not trying to match his energy but not shrinking from it either.
I watch. Notice things I shouldn't be noticing.
How she changes the room. How she brings light without demanding attention. How she exists in this space we've carved out of violence and makes it feel, for a moment, like something other than a fortress.
Notice how Erion watches her with focused intent. More than casual interest.
Something deliberate is happening. Something I should probably address but don't know how to without revealing too much about my own reaction.
"This is incredible," Erion says. He gestures to the food with his fork. "You should be working at a Michelin star restaurant."
Lily's expression shifts. Something shutters behind her eyes. "I was. Up to a year ago." She pauses. Fidgets with her napkin, folding and refolding the corner. "Unfortunately that didn't work out."
"Why not?" Erion's tone is curious, not pushing. But I can see his interest sharpen.
She looks down. Won't meet any of our eyes. The embarrassment radiates off her in waves.
Uncomfortable silence stretches.
Luan speaks. His voice is flat and factual. No emotion coloring the words. "Her boss got handsy. When she told him to stop, he fired her. Then he blacklisted her at every other restaurant in the city."
Lily gasps. Surprise and mortification crossing her face in rapid succession. Her cheeks flush pink, spreading down her neck.
"Mut." Dog. Erion's curse comes out low. Vicious. His hand tightens around his fork hard enough that his knuckles go white.
I set my cutlery down. Too hard. The clatter against ceramic is sharp in the suddenly tense air.
"How do you know that?" Lily asks. She's looking at Luan now, eyes wide with something between shock and violation.
"I heard you on the phone," Luan says matter-of-factly. "That first night. When you were delivering groceries. I was sitting in the living room."
"I didn't know you were there." Her voice is small and uncertain.
Erion is about to say something. I can see it building in him. Rage sharpening his features, jaw clenching, that dangerous energy starting to coil.
I catch his eye. Shake my head slightly. A clear signal.
Not now.
His jaw works. Clenches. But he redirects, the visible effort of controlling his impulse playing out across his face.
"Now that we've appeased your uncle," he says to Luan, voice tight but controlled, "you need to be seen.
Out. In public. Present a united front. Make the engagement believable.
Disperse any rumors about your absence."
Lily immediately fidgets with her napkin again, fingers worrying the fabric.
I put my hand over hers without thinking. The gesture is automatic. Meant to steady. To ground. Her skin is warm and soft beneath mine.
But my eyes are on Erion. "Is that strictly necessary?"
"I think so." His voice firm. "Especially after tonight. People need to see Luan. See that he's strong. In control. That the Krasniqi clan isn't weakened."
Tonight. The Irish warehouse. The message we're sending written in fire and blood.
"We won't be able to pull it off," I say. Logic over emotion. Strategy over risk. "One thing is a video call in controlled lighting with limited exposure. Another is going out. Meeting people face to face. Too many variables we can't account for."
"I agree with Erion," Luan says.
I look at him. Surprise breaking through my usual control.
"I've been absent too long," he continues. "We go to Obsidian. After all, I own it. We go through the back door. Straight to the VIP section. Controlled environment. Limited exposure. I'm seen drinking, relaxed, engaged. Then we leave."
"You have a nightclub?" Lily asks. Her voice carries genuine surprise.
Luan's mouth curves. Something between amusement and secrecy. "One of many businesses."
"Lily needs to wear something scandalous," Erion says. His tone is teasing but his eyes are serious. "Make sure you're noticed."
Lily's eyes widen. "I don't think I have anything appropriate for that."
"Not a problem," Luan says. Dismissive. "After breakfast, one of my men can take you shopping. He'll make sure you get what you need."
"One of your men?" Lily's voice goes small. Worried. The implications sinking in.
"Just a precaution," Luan says. But we all know it's more than that.
"No need for that," Erion says, leaning forward slightly, invading space with deliberate intent. "I'll take her."
Jealousy hits me. Sharp enough that it takes effort to keep my face neutral.
The feeling is unwelcome and dangerous. A crack in the control I've maintained for years.
"We have important things to discuss," My voice comes out harder than I intend, edges showing through the professional mask. "That's why you're here."
"We can discuss the details later," Erion says. Dismissive. His attention already shifting to Lily. "What do you say? Fancy going on a shopping adventure?"
She blushes. Looks between us uncertainly, trying to read the undercurrents she can sense but doesn't understand.
And I realize I'm losing control.
Not of the situation. Not of the plan for tonight or the alliance or the careful structure we've built.
Of myself.
Of the careful distance I've maintained since the moment she walked into this apartment.
I can feel it. The shift. The destabilization. The erosion of the role I've occupied for so long. Protector. Second. The man who stands behind and makes sure everything holds together.