Haunted by her

The Shadow.

Luca.

Apart from the fire flickering in the fireplace, casting shadows on the walls, my study was dark.

My desk? Also was a mess. Papers were scattered everywhere enjoying the company of half-empty whiskey glasses that stained the wood and ghosts of a past I couldn't outrun.

At the center of it all, there was a photograph.

I stared at it.

Its edges worn out from years of handling.

Two children stared back at me. Young, innocent, and happy oblivious to the storm that would one day tear them apart.

Her locket glinted in the image, catching the light just enough to twist the knife already lodged deep in my gut.

The same damn locket I had seen at the fighting club.

It wasn't a coincidence.

It couldn't be.

My grip on the photograph tightened. Strings of questions invaded my mind like a tide I couldn't hold back.

How had she kept it?

Why had she worn it that night?

And what the hell did it mean now, after all these years?

A knock on the door shattered my trail of thoughts.

My head snapped up, my irritation flaring.

"Come in," I called out in response.

The door slowly opened and Vivienne stepped inside.

She was dressed in a short, cream-ish robe that went perfectly with her blonde hair

The silk clung to her frame. Her confidence was visible in the way she strutted her way in.

She shut the door behind her, her lips curving into a knowing smile.

"You've been hiding in here all night," she murmured, her voice teasing and taunting. "Brooding, no doubt. And you know how much I hate it when you brood."

I exhaled in disappointment, turning my gaze back to the photograph. I didn't have the patience for her games.

"I'm busy, Vivienne." Dismissive. Final.

But Vivienne was never one to take a hint. She moved closer, heels tapping softly against the hardwood floor.

"Busy?" she repeated, lacing the word with mockery. "With what, exactly? Obsessing over her? This Mira Callahan who so obviously has crawled under your skin? Or is it just her pretty face that has you obsessed?"

My jaw locked. I didn't answer.

Vivienne smirked, mistaking my silence for an opening.

"You think I haven't noticed?" she continued, circling me like a predator scenting blood. "The way you've been since you saw her? You're obsessed, Luca. And for what? She's just another rival. Nothing special."

That did it.

The words sliced through me as sharp as glass, shattering whatever fragile restraint I had left.

I turned on her so fast that she barely had time to register the change in energy.

"Nothing special? You dare say?" I hissed, "You don't know a damn thing about her."

Vivienne arched a brow, "Then enlighten me," she challenged. "What makes her so special, Luca? What is it about her that's got you so unhinged?"

"You really want to know?" My voice was a growl, sharp enough to cut. "You want to keep pushing me, Vivienne?"

In one stride, I had her against the wall.

She gasped, eyes widening as my hands landed on her shoulders.

"Is this what you wanted?" I growled, "To get under my skin? To distract me?"

Vivienne's breath hitched, hesitation flickering in her eyes. But then the mask slipped back into place. Her lips curled in defiance as she leaned into me, regaining her composure.

"Perhaps it is," she whispered. "And maybe you need me more than you know."

A challenge.

One I didn't have the patience to resist.

My mouth crashed against hers, the kiss rough and punishing. It wasn't gentle, and it wasn't meant to be. This was only anger and frustration. I needed her to feel it too.

She met me with equal ferocity, her hands tangling in my hair, nails scraping against my scalp as she pressed against me.

I pushed her harder against the wall, my grip tightening on her waist. My breathing was heavy, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure she could hear it. Her lips moved against mine, hungry for more.

When she moaned against my lips it was low and throaty.

But beneath the heat, beneath the pull, something was off.

Like a lightning strike in the dark, her face flashed in front of my eyes.

Her eyes, her soft features, her dark hair. The way she looked at he back in the fighting club. The way her jaws clench and most importantly, the locket.

The memory hit me like a punch to the gut

I pulled back, chest heaving, fingers still curled around her arms. My mind was elsewhere. 

"This isn't about you," I muttered, the words raw, hoarse. A truth I hadn't meant to let slip.

Vivienne stilled, trying to catch her breath.

"It will never be about you."

The silence that followed was heavy. I felt her searching my face, looking for something.

An answer, an opening, something to hold on to.

But she wouldn't find it.

Because the truth was, no matter how much I tried to fight it…

Mira was always there. In my mind. In my blood.

And there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.