A Warning In The Dark

Even shadows whisper when death is near.Adrian...I leaned against the grand balcony of the estate, the city lights flickering in the distance like dying embers. The night was quiet—too quiet. It was the kind of silence that came before a storm. And I had been in this business long enough to know a storm was brewing.

The events of the past 24 hours looped in my mind. The explosion. The attack. The message from my unknown enemy. And Celeste.

She was becoming a problem

My grip tightened around the glass in my hand as I thought about her. Where had she been during the explosion? The timing was too perfect. Dante and Lorenzo were convinced she was hiding something. I want to believe otherwise, but the facts weren't in her favor.

And yet..

I ran a hand through my hair, annoyed at the part of myself that is hesitating. Celeste wasn't like the others. There was something about her that made me pause—a wildfire hidden beneath layers of silk and steel.

But weaknesses didn't belong in my world.

A knock sounded at the door, snapping me out of my thoughts. I already knew who it was before I spoke. "Enter."

Celeste stepped inside, her posture unwavering, her expression unreadable. She had this way of looking at me—not with fear, not with submission, but as if she was my equal. It was infuriating. And fascinating.

I turned, leaning against the balcony railing. "You took your time, Ogonëk."

Her brows furrowed slightly. "Ogonëk?"

I smirked. "It suits you."

She crossed her arms. "What does it mean?"

I took a slow sip of my drink, watching her over the rim of my glass. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Her lips parted slightly, as if she was about to argue, but she stopped herself. Clever girl. She wasn't going to take the bait that easily.

"You called me here for a reason," she said instead, shifting the conversation. "So let's get to it."

I studied her for a moment, debating how much to reveal. If she was working against me, I needed to know. But if she wasn't… I had no business wanting to trust her.

I set my drink down. "You were out last night when my estate was attacked. That's suspicious."

"I was handling business," she replied smoothly.

"What kind of business?" I took a step closer. "The kind that involves talking to dead men?"

A flicker of something—recognition, maybe—crossed her face. It was gone just as fast.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

I chuckled, but there was no humor in it. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a burner phone, tossing it onto the nearby table. "That belonged to the man who was shot in that alley. He made a call before he died. To you."

Celeste didn't flinch, but I could see the tension in her shoulders. "So what? A lot of people have my number."

I tsked, shaking my head. "Wrong answer, Ogonëk."

Her jaw tightened. "Stop calling me that."

"Why?" I tilted my head slightly. "Afraid you'll start to like it?

She stepped closer, eyes locked on mine, challenging me. "I don't fear anything, Adrian."

The way she said my name, the way it rolled off her tongue like a whisper meant to be dangerous, sent something dark and unshakable curling in my chest. Something that I had no business with.

I should walk away. I should interrogate her properly, force the truth out of her. But instead, I find myself testing her, pushing just enough to see how far she'd go.

"You think I'm guilty," she said, voice steady. "But you have no proof."

I exhaled sharply. "Not yet. But I will."

She lifted her chin slightly. "And if you don't?"

Silence stretched between us, charged and unrelenting

I took a slow step forward, invading her space, watching for a reaction. She didn't back down. That was the problem with Celeste—she was fire wrapped in silk, and I was getting too close to the heat.

"You're coming with me tomorrow" I finally said.

Her eyes narrowed. "Where?"

A smirk played on my lips. "To meet the man who tried to kill me."

For the first time, she hesitated. It was small—just the briefest flicker of something in her eyes—but I caught it.

She was hiding something. And I was going to find out what.

"Fine," she said, her voice carefully measured. "I'll be ready."

For the first time, she didn't have a comeback. And that, I felt, was almost as satisfying as the game we were playing.

I nodded, watching as she turned to leave. Just as she reached the door, I spoke again.

 

"Good night Ogonëk."

She paused, glancing back, her expression unreadable. For a split second, I thought she might ask again what it meant.

But she didn't

She just shook her head and left, leaving me standing there with a drink in my hand and the unsettling realization that she had already buried herself under my skin. When and how I don't know. All I know is that she can be a someone used against me. 

Weakness.

No. I can't afford that.

Yet, as I took another sip of my whiskey, the taste was bitter.