Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Michael exhaled sharply, his breath catching in the warm air as he stood before his apartment door. His fingers hovered over the keypad. Damn. What was the code again? He flexed his hand, trying to shake off the exhaustion clouding his mind. Right. He punched in the numbers. A soft beep, then the door clicked open.

Stepping inside, the faint scent of soap and steam wrapped around him. A droplet of water splashed onto the wooden floor. His gaze lifted.

A young woman stood in the middle of the room, a towel draped over her shoulders, her raven-black hair slick and dripping down her back. Her bare skin glistened under the dim light.

Their eyes met. Hers widened.

"Master!"

In a blink, her rounded human ears twitched—then disappeared. Soft black cat ears perked up in their place, and a sleek tail curled behind her, its tip flicking.

Michael barely had time to shut the door before she launched herself at him, arms wrapping around his waist, her damp skin pressing against his.

"Chloe, what the hell are you doing?" he blurted, startled.

She purred, nuzzling against him. "Taking care of your apartment, meow. Unlike that ungrateful mutt."

A sharp bark cut through the air. Across the room, a golden retriever stood stiff, ears pinned back, teeth bared in protest.

Michael sighed. "Thor, be nice."

Like a switch had flipped, the dog instantly relaxed, tail wagging as he sat obediently.

Michael sighed and gently pried Chloe off him, stepping back. "Now, can you put some clothes on?"

She pouted, her tail flicking in annoyance. "But Master, human clothes are so uncomfortable."

He crossed his arms, arching a brow. "Then it's either that, you turn back into a cat, or you head back to the spirit realm. Your choice."

She huffed, cheeks puffing in defiance, before a swirl of smoke engulfed her. When it cleared, a small black cat sat in her place, its sleek fur gleaming under the light. Her emerald-green eyes flicked up at him, unblinking.

"Meow," she grumbled.

"Good. Now I can finally relax," Michael muttered, sinking onto the sofa. He grabbed the remote and pressed a button, the TV flickering to life with a familiar drama playing.

Chloe curled up on his lap, her tail wrapping around herself as she purred softly. Thor sat beside them, eyes fixed on the screen as if he actually understood the plot.

Hours slipped by unnoticed until Michael's stomach gave a loud growl. He blinked, glancing toward the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he found it empty. His gaze slowly shifted to Chloe.

She let out an innocent "Meow" before darting toward a small, glowing portal that shimmered into existence. Without hesitation, she leaped through, disappearing into the spirit realm.

"Running away, huh?" Michael sighed, shaking his head.

Resigned, he grabbed a bag of dog food from the cabinet, pouring it into Thor's bowl. The retriever wagged his tail and happily dug in.

"Guess I'm eating out tonight," he muttered, checking the time—8 o'clock.

With a stretch, he headed for the bathroom, letting the warm water wash away the day's fatigue. Afterward, he dressed in a sleek, tailored suit, fastening the family crest pin onto his lapel. A hint of satisfaction crossed his face as he adjusted his cuffs.

Time to head out.

Michael stepped out of the building, his gaze locking onto the parking garage ahead. As he neared, a sleek black Lamborghini Aventador with red accents slid into view, its sharp, aggressive lines catching the dim light.

With the press of a button, the engine roared to life, a deep, throaty growl vibrating through the ground. He slid into the driver's seat, hands gripping the wheel as he revved the engine. The car surged forward, tires screeching as he sped out of the garage and onto the open road, the city lights blurring past him.

Women in elegant dresses and men in sharp suits strolled side by side, their wealth on full display. Luxury cars and supercars roared past, gleaming under the neon lights, as the vibrant scene of busy restaurants and clubs throbbed with booming music.

Inside his Lamborghini, Michael cranked up the volume, Bad Bunny blasting through the speakers. He glanced at the women walking by, their presence as captivating as the cars speeding past.

But then, his focus sharpened. As he pulled up to the restaurant, he slammed on the brakes, tossing his keys expertly to the valet.

"Not a scratch," Michael muttered under his breath, his voice low and laced with confidence as he made his way toward the entrance. The buzz of the night pulsed around him, the city alive with its usual energy.

"Michael," he said casually, hands stuffed deep into his pants pockets.

The waiter, impeccably dressed in a sharp red suit, scanned the reservation list. His brow furrowed in confusion. "Sorry, sir, but it seems you don't have a reservation."

But then he looked up, his gaze locking with Michael's. His eyes widened as they fell on the family crest pin gleaming on Michael's lapel. "My apologies, Mr. Adrastus," the waiter stammered. "Right this way."

With a quick nod, Michael followed him upstairs to a private room. The door opened to reveal sweeping windows, the city stretching out below like a glittering sea of lights, each one twinkling against the darkened sky.

Michael sat down at the polished table, the soft clink of silverware filling the brief silence. The waiter, standing with a respectful posture, asked, "What would you like to drink, sir?"

Michael glanced up, his voice smooth yet commanding. "Bring me your best wine," he said, his gaze never leaving the waiter. "And your finest dish."

He leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed but firm. "And make sure it's packed with meat," he added, his tone unmistakably decisive. 

The waiter nodded and hurried off to place the order with the chef.

Soon after, the food arrived, steaming and beautifully plated. Michael settled into his seat, savoring each bite with quiet appreciation. He let out a satisfied hum with every forkful, fully absorbed in his meal. But his peaceful moment was cut short.

"Excuse me, sir. I'm sorry to disturb you," the waiter said, his face pale and voice uneasy. "There's been… an incident behind the restaurant. A murder. We have to close immediately. My deepest apologies."

Michael's eyes flicked up, his expression calm. He dabbed his mouth with his napkin, then stood slowly. "I'm finished anyway." Without hesitation, he pulled out his wallet, handing over his credit card.

The waiter moved swiftly, charging the card and returning it with a slight bow of apology. Michael pocketed it without a word, his face unreadable as he walked out of the restaurant and into the cold night.

Michael's thoughts began to wandered to the idea of hitting a club, maybe enjoying a few drinks. With a nod to the valet, he accepted his keys, slid behind the wheel, and pulled out onto the road.

The city lights faded behind him as he drove through a dimly lit stretch of road. The hum of the engine and the rhythmic flash of passing streetlights lulled him into a comfortable rhythm.

Suddenly, blinding headlights appeared around a bend, bearing down on him at breakneck speed. His heart leaped into his throat. There was no time to react.

Metal crunched and glass shattered as the impact slammed into his car, sending it spinning off the road. Gravity twisted, and the world turned upside down as the vehicle tumbled down the hill, rolling over and over before finally crashing to a stop.

Silence followed, broken only by the faint hiss of steam rising from the wreckage.