Blackwood wing.
Lucas POV.
The following morning, I sought Beatrice out in the garden. "I have to travel for business," I told her, my hands clasped behind my back. "Two weeks. Matters at the main corporation."
She looked up, a flicker of concern in her eyes. "Two weeks?"
"If you need anything, anything at all, you can tell Aunt Patricia. Or tell me now."
"I'll be fine, Lucas. Just... be careful."
I nodded, then turned to Tyler on the security feed. "I'm leaving. Watch over her. If anything happens to Beatrice while I'm away, I'll hold you personally responsible."
"Don't worry, cousin," Tyler's voice crackled through the comms. "She'll be the safest woman in Germany."
I doubled the guards at the perimeter and checked the sensors one last time before the SUV pulled away.
...
2 days later.
With Lucas gone, the silence of the Blackwood Wing feels less like a sanctuary and more like a vacuum.
The black SUV glided through the gates of the Blackwood Wing, the tires crunching on the gravel like bone. For the first time in weeks, the oppressive basalt walls were in my rearview mirror. Beside me sat my mother, Nova, her hands folded neatly over her purse, though I could see the way her eyes darted toward the tinted windows.
"It's a lot of security for a trip to the apothecary, Bea," she whispered, glancing at the silent, stone-faced Orpheus in the passenger seat.
"It's the only way he let me leave, Mom," I said, leaning back into the leather. I felt a strange mix of relief and agitation. I felt like a high-value asset being transported rather than a woman going shopping.
My mind kept drifting to Lucas. He was somewhere across the country now, dealing with some complications at ZigLan corp. I thought about the way he looked before he left, that brief, heavy look he gave me in the garden. He was worried, though he'd never admit it. And I was nervous. I was a mother-to-be in a world of wolves.
"We're here," Orpheus stated, his voice devoid of inflection.
The city felt loud. The smells of exhaust, street food, and rain hit me with a sensory violence I wasn't prepared for. As we stepped out into the bustling market district to find the specific prenatal supplements Nova insisted on, I felt a prickle at the back of my neck.
The Shadow Army moved with us, a silent perimeter of charcoal suits. But as we entered the crowded pharmacy, I saw a reflection in the glass. A man in a plain gray hoodie, standing too still for a crowded sidewalk. He wasn't looking at the shop; he was looking at the reflection of the SUV.
Tyler's POV
Lucas's office at the ZigLan corp headquarters felt like a tomb. I sat in the high-backed chair, the one he usually occupied with the rigidity of a statue, and looked at the glowing monitors.
Lucas had been gone for forty-eight hours, and already the vultures were testing the fence.
My phone buzzed. It was a private line. "Fernanda"
"Your cousin's departure wasn't as quiet as you hoped, Tyler," she said, her voice sounding like ice cubes in a glass. "The Governor has postponed the final approval on the Nile Town mobility permits. He's asking for clarifications that only a CEO can provide."
"He's asking for a bribe, Fernanda. Let's call it what it is." I answered, my eyes fixed in the big monitor screen.
"Whatever it is, it's stalling my shipments," she snapped. "I didn't sign a deal with a playboy to have my product sit in a warehouse. Handle it, or I start looking for a partner who isn't distracted by family drama."
"I'm handling it," I said, my jaw tightening. "The Governor wants a meeting? He'll get one."
I hung up and continued to checked the live feed from Orpheus. Beatrice was in the city. She looked small against the backdrop of the metropolis, a target wrapped in silk. Lucas told me to look after her, but as I watched the gray-hooded figure on the edge of the frame, I realized that looking after her was about to become a full-time war.
...
(Beatrice's POV)
The city felt like a living creature, breathing down my neck. While the rest of the Shadow Army remained invisible, stationed on rooftops and at street corners like silent gargoyles, Orpheus was my only constant. He moved with a predatory grace, his presence a wall of iron between me and the bustling Flensburg crowd.
"Beatrice, look at this one. It has the high-folate count the doctor mentioned," Nova said, holding up a bottle.
I nodded absently, my eyes fixed on the pharmacy's security mirror. The man in the gray hoodie was gone. I tried to shrug it off, but the feeling of being watched hadn't left.
"Mom, I'm feeling exhausted... I think we've bought enough ," I said, my voice tight.
"But we haven't seen the nursery fabrics at the textile shop yet!" Nova remarked.
"Another time. Please." I said persuasively.
As we exited the apothecary, a sudden surge in the crowd forced a wedge between Orpheus and me for a split second. In that heartbeat of vulnerability, a hand brushed mine, and a folded slip of paper was pressed into my palm. Before I could react, the person was already gone.
Orpheus didn't see the hand, he simply open the door to the SUV for me, his eyes scanning the rooftops.
"Let's go" he said with a firm voice, to the driver.
As the SUV roared away from the curb, I unfolded the paper in my lap, hidden from Orpheus's rearview gaze.
"The Ice King's throne is built on a grave. Ask him who else was in the car that night. You aren't the first guest at Blackwood."
There was no signature. The handwriting was jagged and frantic. It felt like a trap. I looked out the window at the passing blur of the city, feeling the weight of Lucas's secrets pressing against me even in his absence.