4.Shadows of the Past

Faye spent the night tossing and turning, her mind swirling with thoughts she couldn't escape. Every sound from the street below—the wail of sirens, the distant roar of motorcycles—felt amplified, as though the city itself was a living, breathing entity, conspiring to remind her that she was not alone. Her body felt heavy, weighed down by the knowledge of what tomorrow would bring.

Alaric was waiting.

She turned over again, clutching the pillow, trying to fight the emotions that kept rising to the surface. It wasn't just about him anymore. It was about the twins. The little lives growing inside her, lives that could never be dragged into Alaric's world.

That was her biggest fear. Alaric wasn't evil, not in the way most people saw him, but he was ruthless. Cold. Unyielding when it came to his empire. What kind of future could he offer their children? He had built his fortune on secrets, blood, and loyalty, the kind that came with a heavy price. And now, as much as she wanted to run, she realized that escape might no longer be possible.

Nikos's words echoed in her mind. Meline's family will come for you.

She hadn't thought it through when she slapped Meline, but that brief moment of satisfaction had cost her more than she realized. Meline wasn't just a spiteful socialite. Her family had power, influence, and a network that extended far beyond the city. If they came for Faye, they wouldn't stop until they had destroyed everything she had.

And yet, the idea of facing Alaric terrified her even more. He had a way of stripping away her defenses, of seeing right through her, and she wasn't sure how long she could keep the pregnancy a secret.

Morning came too quickly. The harsh rays of sunlight filtered through the cracked blinds, and Faye groaned, forcing herself to sit up. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. If she didn't go, Nikos was right—things would get worse. She couldn't afford to put the people she cared about in more danger.

With a sigh, she dragged herself out of bed and got dressed. She chose something simple: black jeans, a loose sweater that hid the growing curve of her belly, and her favorite leather jacket. She stared at herself in the mirror for a long moment, trying to find the strength she needed.

"I can do this," she whispered, though her voice wavered.

As she stepped out of the hotel and onto the bustling streets, the city felt like it was closing in on her. Everywhere she looked, people were rushing by, immersed in their own lives, oblivious to the turmoil that churned inside her. The familiar sounds of horns blaring and vendors shouting were a reminder that life kept moving, no matter what chaos she was dealing with.

But beneath the surface, something felt off.

She couldn't quite place it, but there was a tension in the air, as though the city itself was holding its breath. Faye kept her head down as she walked, her nerves on edge. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. Was it Meline's people? Or was it just paranoia, born out of fear?

By the time she reached The King's Court, her palms were slick with sweat. The sleek black building towered above her, its glass facade reflecting the chaos of the streets below. The entrance was guarded by a single man, dressed in an immaculate black suit. He nodded as she approached, recognizing her immediately.

"Miss Faye," he greeted with a curt nod. "Mr. Alaric is expecting you."

Of course, he was. She didn't bother responding, just swallowed hard and stepped inside.

The interior was a stark contrast to the gritty streets outside. The club's main room was bathed in dim lighting, with plush leather seating and polished wood floors that gleamed underfoot. The smell of expensive cigars and whiskey lingered in the air. It was a place of power, a place where deals were made and lives were ruined over whispered conversations.

Nikos was waiting for her by the bar. He gave her a brief nod before leading her down a narrow hallway to Alaric's private office. The knot in her stomach tightened with every step.

Finally, they stopped in front of a large oak door. Nikos knocked once, then opened it, motioning for her to enter. Faye hesitated, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure Nikos could hear it. But she couldn't back out now.

Alaric was sitting behind a massive desk, his dark eyes trained on her the moment she stepped into the room. His presence filled the space, commanding and dangerous. He hadn't changed much since the last time she saw him—his sharp features, the cold edge in his gaze that always made her feel like he was five steps ahead.

"Faye," he said, his voice calm but laced with something more. "I'm glad you came."

She stayed by the door, unwilling to get any closer. "I didn't have much of a choice, did I?"

Alaric leaned back in his chair, studying her with that piercing intensity she remembered all too well. "You always have a choice. You just haven't been making the right ones lately."

Faye clenched her fists, resisting the urge to snap back. This wasn't the time for a fight. "What do you want, Alaric? I don't have time for games."

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Straight to the point. I can appreciate that." He stood, walking around the desk and stopping just a few feet from her. His presence was overwhelming, and Faye had to force herself to hold her ground.

"I want to know why you ran," he said softly, his voice deceptively gentle. "You owe me that much."

Faye's throat tightened. She had prepared for this moment, rehearsed what she would say, but now, face to face with him, the words stuck. She couldn't tell him. Not yet. Not with so much at stake.

"I couldn't stay," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not after everything."

Alaric's eyes narrowed, but he didn't press her. Instead, he stepped closer, his gaze never leaving hers. "You know this isn't over, Faye. Whatever you're hiding, it won't stay buried forever."

She flinched, but kept her chin up. "I'm not hiding anything."

Alaric reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his touch both tender and possessive. "You forget, Faye—I know you better than anyone. And I don't give up easily."

Her heart raced, but she stood her ground. "Neither do I."

For a moment, the air between them crackled with tension. Alaric's eyes darkened, and Faye knew she was playing with fire. But she had no choice. She had to protect her children, no matter the cost.

"We'll see," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. "We'll see just how far you're willing to go."