Chapter five

Chapter 5

POV: Lumiere

The grandfather clock in the corner of my apartment ticked with a heavy, mocking rhythm, counting down the seconds of the life I used to know. Outside, Helsinki snow battered the windows, howling through the darkness. But the real storm wasn't outside. It was standing right in the middle of my kitchen.

The bakery was officially closed. The Open sign had been turned around hours ago, long after the police had cleared the crime scene, taken Jarkko’s body away, and cleaned the floorboards. Still, I could see the bloodstain in my mind as clearly as if it were still there.

The authorities had accepted Mikael’s carefully prepared story, a random mugging by a transient. One phone call from a powerful legal team had been enough to make the local police stop asking questions.

I stood beside the industrial mixer, gripping the stainless-steel edge so tightly that my knuckles had gone pale. My dyed raven hair hung loose around my shoulders, framing a face that still felt numb from shock.

Mikael looked completely out of place in my kitchen. His tall frame was wrapped in a charcoal cashmere overcoat that carried the faint scent of pine and gunpowder. The sight of him made my warm, familiar bakery feel smaller somehow. His silver-blonde hair caught the amber light from the wall sconce, while his ice-grey eyes followed every movement I made.

"You should be resting," Mikael said.

His voice was low and rough, but there was no softness in it.

"Rest?" I laughed, the sound bitter and breathless. I released the mixer and stepped toward him, anger giving me enough strength to forget my fear for a moment. "You executed a man on my floor three days ago. You revealed that my entire existence, every wall of this bakery, every loaf of bread I baked, every breath I took was a lie engineered by you. And you expect me to sleep?"

Mikael didn't flinch. He didn't move away. He simply stood there and took my anger without reacting.

"The life you built here was a fragile illusion, Lumiere," he said calmly. "A sandbox I constructed to keep you safe while I hunted down the factions trying to tear you apart. But that sandbox is gone. The firewall has collapsed."

"I don't care about your wars!" I shouted.

The panic I'd been holding back finally broke through. Tears stung my pale-blue eyes as I folded my arms across my chest.

"I was surviving! I was safe, I was anonymous, I was me! You had no right to play God with my life, and you have no right to keep me locked in that glass prison across the sea!"

"Safe?"

Mikael stepped closer.

I instinctively backed away until the cold steel of the mixing table pressed against my lower back. I had nowhere else to go.

He stopped a short distance from me, his presence making it difficult to think clearly.

"You were never safe, Lumiere," he said quietly.

He reached toward me, pausing before gently moving a loose strand of hair away from my face. The gesture was unexpectedly gentle, completely at odds with the seriousness in his eyes.

"The Italian syndicates have traced the offshore digital footprint. They know the daughter of the fallen capo is alive and living in Finland. Within forty-eight hours, rival cartels will sweep through this district. They won't want to capture you. They will want your blood to settle a ten-year-old vendetta."

The words hit me like a blow to the stomach.

The smell of burning cedar and the distant echoes of screaming flashed through my mind. Memories of that terrible night in Italy fought their way back into my thoughts.

I swallowed, forcing myself to speak.

"Then let me run," I whispered. "I'll leave Finland. I'll go somewhere else…"

"There is nowhere else," Mikael interrupted.

His voice became colder, leaving no room for argument.

"The borders are closed to you. The only way to survive the coming storm is to anchor your name to mine. The underworld respects blood and contracts. As my wife, you become untouchable."

My breath caught.

I stared at him as the meaning of his words finally settled in.

"An arranged marriage," I whispered. The words felt bitter in my mouth. "You want me to marry you. To tie myself to the monster who runs the Finnish syndicate."

"I want you alive," Mikael said firmly. "And to achieve that, the rules of this city must change. Tomorrow, the regional council convenes. If I present you simply as a rescued asset, the captains will tear you apart for leverage. But if I present you as my wife, the queen of the Pohjola syndicate no one in the criminal underground will dare lay a finger on you."

He reached into the deep pocket of his tailored coat and pulled out a heavy, leather-bound folder.

He placed it on the stainless-steel table between us.

The folder slid across the metal with a sharp scrape that echoed through the quiet kitchen.

Mikael opened it to the final page.

A legally binding marriage contract stared back at me, every clause written with terrifying precision. A sleek fountain pen rested directly across the signature line.

I stared down at the document, my chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

Every part of me wanted to tear the contract apart. I wanted to fight him, to reject everything he had done and demand my old life back.

But deep down, I knew the truth.

My quiet life as a simple baker was already gone.

Mikael leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper beside me.

"Sign it, Lumiere," he said, his tone firm and possessive. "Because your quiet life is officially over, and the only cage left standing is mine."

Before my shaking fingers could reach for the pen, the heavy security lights outside the bakery suddenly flickered.

Then they went out.

The entire street plunged into absolute darkness.