Natalie's House
The late afternoon sunlight filtered lazily through the heavy red curtains, casting warm streaks of gold across the polished marble floor. In the center of the spacious living room, Vaelthor paced like a predator who had grown too used to his cage. Each step was unhurried but precise, as though the world itself should adjust to his rhythm.
In his hand, the delicate bloom of his otherworldly flower pulsed faintly with life. He brushed its petals with long, elegant fingers, and with each touch, new roses sprouted across the side table in an impossible bloom of crimson and green. They opened in perfect synchrony, their petals curling outward like they were offering themselves to him.
Half of his robe hung open, revealing the taut lines of his chest and the silver glint of his skin in the fading light. His silvery hair caught the golden rays, shimmering like threads of molten moonlight. Everything about him screamed dangerous charm, the kind that wasn't just meant to be looked at—it was meant to lure you in and ruin you.
Natalie stood near the doorway, her pulse quickening against her will. She swallowed hard, unable to ignore how the man—no, the being—before her seemed entirely in his element. "What… what do you plan on doing?" she asked, her voice low, cautious.
Vaelthor didn't stop pacing. His lips curved—not into a smile, but into something sharper. "I'm not going to tell you."
Her brows knit together. "Why not?"
He turned to glance at her, eyes like liquid silver, but his tone was cool and final. "Because I won't make the same mistake twice. I won't tell anyone my plan again."
There was an edge to his words, as if he'd been burned before. Natalie felt her mouth go dry. Before she could push further, Vaelthor shifted his attention back to the roses. He brushed a final petal, let it bloom in flawless perfection, then placed the flower on the table as if sealing the moment.
Without another word to her, he began to walk away, his steps silent against the marble. As he neared the hallway, his voice dropped to a murmur—meant for himself alone, but the quiet still carried to her ears.
"My other half must know about me by now," he said, his tone a strange mix of anticipation and satisfaction. "I'll have to meet you Harper, soon… but before that, I think I'll play a little."
Natalie's chest tightened. She didn't know if the unease crawling up her spine was because of the danger in his voice—or the way he seemed to relish it.
*******
Far across the city, the masked lady sat alone in her dimly lit study. The chaos from earlier had finally ebbed, leaving only the faint scent of sandalwood from the incense burning in the corner. She had long since composed herself; the trembling in her hands was gone, her breathing calm.
Slowly, she rose from her seat, the hem of her black dress whispering against the floor. Her fingers, gloved in thin silk, moved with deliberate grace as she reached for the sleek black phone on her desk.
She pressed a number—one she clearly knew by heart—and waited. When the line connected, her voice was clipped and formal, devoid of any warmth.
"Father," she said. "We need to meet. It's urgent."
There was a pause, then she added, "The old place. Tonight."
No further explanation. No room for argument. She ended the call and placed the phone back on the desk with quiet precision. Then she turned toward the tall window, gazing out at the fading skyline.
The matter at hand was spiraling out of control, and she wasn't about to let anyone else dictate the terms.
******HARPER
Chris and Hay were on either side of me as we crept through the dim alley toward the mayor's house. The air was heavy with the smell of damp stone, and the night felt too still—too expectant.
Luna walked just ahead of me, her eyes sweeping every corner, fingers twitching as if she were ready to cast a spell at the slightest hint of trouble.
We'd gone over the plan a dozen times in the safe house. I could still hear my own voice, sharp and determined, telling everyone: "We're not hurting his daughter. She's innocent in this. Elias, make sure she's somewhere safe."
Elias had nodded and left earlier, promising he'd handle it. I'd trusted him enough not to ask how.
Now, standing in the shadow of the mayor's tall, looming gate, I felt the old bitterness boiling in my veins. This was it. One step closer to finishing what I'd started.
Chris moved first, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the property with that sharp, almost predatory awareness of his. Hay mirrored him on the opposite side, her movements efficient, her gaze cutting over every corner of the yard.
I waited for Chris's signal, my breath steady despite the adrenaline coiling in my chest.
And then—Chris stopped.
He frowned. "He's not here."
Hay's voice followed, cold and certain. "Yeah. The mayor's gone."
The words hit like ice water down my spine. "What?"
Chris shook his head, still scanning, as if the mayor might suddenly materialize if he looked hard enough. "The house is empty. No heartbeat, no breathing, no movement. He's not here, Harper."
My fists clenched. "No, that's not—he was supposed to be here."
"He's not," Hay said again, her voice sharper this time. "And I don't like this. It feels… off."
I took a slow breath, trying to keep my temper in check. Every second we stood here felt like a second wasted, a second he could be getting farther away.
Luna turned back to me, concern written plain on her face. "Harper… what do we do?"
I looked up at the dark, silent house. The windows were black holes, swallowing the moonlight, watching us without blinking.
Something about the emptiness set my teeth on edge.
"We fall back," I said finally, my voice low. "If he's not here, then either he knows we're coming… or someone warned him."
Chris exchanged a look with Hay—one of those silent, too-knowing looks that made my gut twist.
"…we'll find where he's hiding."
I turned away, because if I stayed staring at that empty house for another second, I might've stormed inside and burned it to the ground out of sheer frustration.