Mag-log inChapter 4
POV: Lumiere
The calendar on the damp brick wall of my cramped back office read December 14th, but time had stopped meaning anything to me ever since the world I thought I knew had shattered into a pool of crimson on my bakery floor.
Three painful days had passed since Mikael Koskivirta’s armored SUV had taken me into the freezing Helsinki night and carried me to his glass fortress in the Turku archipelago. But even surrounded by those cold, spotless walls overlooking the dark Baltic Sea, my mind kept dragging me back.
I wasn't looking at the grey waves crashing against the reinforced glass, I was remembering the ghosts.
I closed my eyes, my fingers tightening around the porcelain mug of bitter black coffee as my mind went back to a freezing Tuesday afternoon exactly ten years ago.
I was fourteen, starving, terrified, and wandering the slush-covered streets of Helsinki with barely fifty euros to my name. My parents' faces were still little more than blurred, half-burned memories in my mind, and the nightmares of that burning Italian villa were still fresh.
I had stumbled across a run-down, abandoned bakery with a peeling For Rent sign on the door in a quiet, historic part of the city.
The old landlord, a reclusive man named Arvi, looked at my trembling hands, my hollow cheeks, and my dyed raven-black hair before giving me a monthly rent that seemed almost too good to be true.
Four hundred euros a month for a three-story building with a commercial kitchen and a small living loft upstairs.
I had cried with relief right there on the dusty floorboards. For the first time, I thought maybe life had finally given me a chance.
I signed the lease with a borrowed pen, convinced I had somehow managed to escape the cruel odds stacked against me.
A sharp, rhythmic knock against the heavy oak door of my island suite pulled me out of the memory.
"Enter," I called, my voice rough from barely speaking.
The heavy wooden door opened silently, Mikael stepped inside. His tall frame immediately filled the doorway, blocking part of the pale daylight coming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. He wore a charcoal cashmere turtleneck that fit closely across his broad chest and shoulders. His silver-blonde hair was slightly messy from the coastal wind, but his ice-grey eyes were as sharp as ever.
He didn't say anything at first, he walked toward the minimalist white table where I sat, his leather boots making quiet sounds against the hardwood floor.
In his right hand was a thick, yellowed manila folder tied with a faded red ribbon.
It looked completely out of place in the modern, high-tech luxury of the fortress.
"You've barely touched your breakfast," Mikael said. "I'm not hungry," I snapped, lifting my chin. "And staring at me like I'm something behind glass isn't going to make me hungry, Mr. Koskivirta."
A faint, humorless smirk touched the corner of his mouth.
For seventy-two hours, we'd been trapped in this strange battle of wills. His control against my desperate need to have some control over my own life. Every conversation seemed to end with one of us refusing to give the other an inch.
He didn't sit.
Instead, he dropped the manila folder onto the table between us.
"Open it."
"I'm not taking orders from you unless I absolutely have to," I replied. His eyes remained fixed on mine.
"Open it, Lumiere." His voice was low this time.
My hands trembled as I reached for the folder. I untied the faded red ribbon and opened the folder.
The first document was a commercial property lease, the paper was old and yellowed with age. I recognized Arvi's signature immediately, but there was another signature beside it.
My eyes moved to the legal transfer deed underneath.
December 14, 2016.
The exact day I had signed the lease ten years ago, my breath caugh instantly. I read the document again.
The bakery hadn't simply been rented to me by a kind old landlord.
The property had been purchased outright three weeks before I moved in by an obscure shell company registered in the Åland Islands. And that company traced its primary funding directly to the Pohjola syndicate.
Slowly, I lifted my eyes, Mikael was watching me.
"You..." My voice caught in my throat. "You didn't just find me three days ago when Jarkko walked into the bakery."
I swallowed hard.
"You put me there." "I didn't put you in a cage," Mikael said, he stepped closer. His body heat seemed to reach me before he did.
His hand came down onto the table beside the deed,"I built you a sanctuary."
"A sanctuary?"a short, bitter laugh escaped me. "You bought my life ten years ago."
"You watched me through cameras. Every loaf of bread I baked. Every customer I smiled at. Every place I went. Every single step I took." I stared at him, barely recognizing the man in front of me. It was all a lie? I was just a puppet in your little game?"
"You were a target." The words came out sharply, For the first time, the calm control in his voice cracked. He leaned closer, his face only inches from mine. His ice-grey eyes held mine with an intensity that made my heart pound despite everything I was feeling.
"A fourteen-year-old girl smuggled out of a burning Italian slaughterhouse with a price on her head doesn't survive on the streets of Helsinki by luck, Lumiere."
His voice dropped.
"She survives because someone makes sure the men who destroyed her family never find her."
The air rushed out of my lungs. The room tilted sideways.
Every memory of the life I had built came crashing down the flour on my hands, the smell of yeast, the early mornings in the bakery, the pride I felt whenever I paid my own rent, suddenly felt like something I'd never truly owned. I had never been safe, I was been protected.
"Why?" I whispered, a tear slipped down my cheek."Why did you do this? Why hunt me down now and force me into this nightmare?"
Mikael's expression changed, his thumb lifted and caught the tear before it reached my jaw.
"Because the firewalls just failed," he murmured, his gaze dropping briefly to my lips before locking back onto my terrified eyes. "The men who burned your home found the coordinates today. And the only way to keep you alive... was to bind you to my side forever.”
Before I could understand what he meant, a sharp, screaming alarm tore through the fortress.
Red lights flashed across the room.
Outside, the dark Baltic waves disappeared beneath the pulsing crimson glow.
LumiereMy boots dragged hard against the rough concrete floor, my heels scraping a rough line through the damp salt dust as the masked men hauled me forward by my upper arms."Move," one of them hissed, shoving me hard between the shoulder blades as we crossed the threshold into the deepest section of the subterranean complex.The heavy iron door swung shut behind us with a dull, echoing thud that cut off the sound of the storm and the distant gunfire. The air down here was stagnant, freezing, and heavy with the sharp metallic scent of old iron and wet stone. This wasn't the marine boat dock at the end of the tunnel. This was the original, forgotten treasury vault built fifty years before my family ever laid claim to the estate—a windowless stone room carved directly into the cold granite of the island foundation.The overhead fluorescent bulb flickered twice before holding on a harsh, sickly yellow glare.I stumbled, catching myself against the corner of a heavy steel table, my brea
Mikael's POVThe blade went through the mercenary’s throat before the iron hatch could fully settle in its frame.I didn't hear him choke. I didn't care. I shoved his heavy body into the wall, wrenched my combat knife out of his flesh, and threw myself against the iron latch of the service door. It had been bolted from the inside. A heavy, dead mechanical thud echoed through the iron plate as I threw my shoulder against it once, twice, three times, until the steel frame groaned under the impact."Lumiere!" I roared into the dark gap, my voice tearing raw in my throat.Nothing answered except the howling wind trapped inside the chimney flues and the distant, dull crackle of burning tapestries in the master bedroom behind me.She was gone.The grey smoke inside the suite was thick, smelling of sulfur, burnt wool, and fresh copper. Three men lay broken on the floorboards behind me, their blood pooling in the cracks of the polished oak, soaking into the pages of the tape deck that had jus
Lumiere's POVMy father’s voice was still rasped out through the tinny speaker of the tape deck—a horrifying, impossible truth—when the bedroom door exploded inward.Splintered oak and metal fragments showered the Persian rug. The heavy mahogany chair we had wedged against the frame split in two, thrown across the room like matchsticks."Lumiere, down!" Mikael roared, his hand reaching out, his large fingers snagging the collar of my cardigan to haul me violently behind his broad frame.He didn't hesitate. His rifle came up, the barrel flashing in short, lethal pops that drove the first two men backward into the dark hallway. Blood splattered across the white doorframe, but more figures surged through the gap, their heavy tactical boots stomping over the fallen.Before I could raise my father’s pistol, a dull, metallic cylinder bounced across the floorboards, rolling to a stop right between my boots.A sharp pop echoed through the room, followed instantly by a thick, blinding cloud o
Lumiere's POVThe cold barrel pressed so hard into the base of my skull that my teeth clicked together."Don't move, girl," the mercenary growled, his voice muffled by a thick black tactical mask.Mikael didn't drop his rifle. In the flashing crimson light of the emergency lamps, his face turned into something terrifying—a mask of absolute, lethal ice. Slowly, agonizingly, he shifted his weight, his eyes locking onto the man standing behind me. The heavy silence between us stretched razor-thin, vibrating with a raw, unspoken terror. He wasn't thinking about the fortress, or the syndicate, or the ledger lying open on the floor. He was looking at the steel touching my skin."If you pull that trigger," Mikael said, his voice dropping into a low, quiet rasp that cut straight through the roaring wind, "you will not live long enough to hear her body hit the floor.""Try me, Koskivirta," the man sneered.I didn't wait for Mikael to make a move. The hair-trigger weight of my father's pistol w
Lumiere's POVThe harsh white glare of Hannu's flashlight pinned us to the bottom step, blinding me so completely that the dark shapes of the gallery blurred into jagged black smears."Lower the weapon, Hannu," Mikael said. His voice didn't shake. It dropped into a quiet, deadly register that vibrated straight through the palm he had pressed flat against my back. He didn't step away from me. If anything, he shifted half an inch to his left, using his broad shoulders to cover my head and chest from the top of the stairs."I didn't survive ten years in hiding to take orders from a Koskivirta," Hannu rasped. The snow melting off his heavy wool cloak dripped steadily onto the dark mahogany floor, tap, tap, tap, like a leaking pipe in an empty house. "Your father stole her family's name, Mikael. He locked her in this fortress to keep her silent, just like you're doing now.""He didn't lock me away!" I yelled into the glare, my voice raw and cracking. My fingers tightened around the custom
LumiereA wave of static burst through the main security panel, screaming like a dying animal before the monitors went totally black.Outside, the storm had turned into a monster. A blinding white blizzard roared across the Turku archipelago, swallowing the dark pine forests and the icy waters of the Baltic sea whole. Thick, heavy sheets of snow slammed against the thick glass of the security booth, cutting our visibility down to less than three feet. The floodlamps flickered twice, then died completely as thirty-mile-per-hour winds tore through the power lines on the north ridge."The exterior cameras are offline!" Talvikki shouted over the howling gale, her hands slamming onto the dead console. "The lens covers froze over in seconds! I've lost the perimeter feed!"Mikael didn't say a word. He stood motionless beside me, staring out through the frost-crusted window where my mother's former chief bodyguard—Hannu—had stood just moments before in the whiteout."Satellite link is down,"







