The Cost Of Vengeance

Lucas’s POV

The muffled gunshot echoes in my ears, a sharp crack that freezes the blood in my veins. I stagger back, my hand flying to my chest, expecting to feel the wet warmth of blood, but there’s nothing just the pounding of my heart. The figure in the doorway lowers the silenced pistol, their face obscured by the shadows, but their posture is calm, deliberate, like a predator who’s already claimed their kill. My eyes dart past them, searching for the target, and I see it: a body slumped in the grass just outside the cabin’s back door, motionless, blood pooling beneath them. My stomach churns. Who’s dead? Emily? One of Julian’s men? Or someone else entirely?

“You’re lucky,” the figure says, their voice low, unfamiliar, tinged with a cold amusement that sends a shiver down my spine. “I wasn’t aiming for you. Yet.” They step forward, the faint moonlight catching the edge of a hood, but I still can’t make out their face. My hand tightens on the gun in my waistband, but I don’t draw it. Not yet. This isn’t just some hired thug,this is someone with a plan, someone who knows more than I do, and that makes them dangerous.

“Who the hell are you?” I growl, my voice rough with adrenaline. My mind races, piecing together the chaos: Sophia and Julian inside the cabin, Emily’s reckless scheme, the sniper on the rooftop, and now this. The photo sent to Sophia, the cigarette butt in the stairwell, the black sedan it’s all connected, but the puzzle is missing a crucial piece. “What do you want?”

The figure chuckles, a sound that grates against my nerves. “You’re asking the wrong questions, Anderson. It’s not about what I want it’s about what you’ve lost.” They tilt their head, the pistol glinting as they gesture toward the body outside. “Go on. Take a look.”

My pulse spikes, but I force my legs to move, stepping cautiously toward the door. The cold night air hits me as I peer outside, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. The body is face down, a dark jacket splayed open, blood soaking into the earth. I crouch, my hand trembling as I reach to turn them over, dread pooling in my gut. The face comes into view scarred eyebrow, sharp features. It’s the man I hired, the one who tailed Sophia, sent the photo. His eyes stare blankly at the sky, a bullet hole clean through his temple.

I lurch back, my breath ragged. “You killed him,” I say, turning to the figure, my voice a mix of fury and fear. “Why?”

“He was a loose end,” they reply, their tone flat, as if discussing the weather. “And you’re sloppy, Anderson. You think you can play this game,blackmail, threats, sneaking around but you’re out of your depth. Gray’s not your only problem.”

My mind reels. If this isn’t about Julian, then who? Emily’s betrayal flashes through my thoughts, her call about Sophia’s pregnancy, her plan to meet me here. Did she set me up? Or is this tied to the Larks, their crumbling empire I’ve been bleeding dry for years? My offshore accounts, the money I’ve siphoned they’re my leverage, my escape plan, but if Julian’s digging, and now this shadow knows… I’m running out of time.

“Get inside,” the figure orders, the pistol steady in their hand. “We’re not done.”

I hesitate, my hand itching to draw my gun, but the cold certainty in their voice stops me. They’re not bluffing. I step back into the cabin, the darkness swallowing us as they follow, closing the door with a soft click. The murmur of voices from the living room Sophia’s, Julian’s, Asher’s cuts through the silence, and my chest tightens. She’s in there, with him, planning a life without me. The thought fuels my rage, but I’m trapped, caught between this armed stranger and the enemies I’ve made.

“What’s your game?” I ask, keeping my voice low, my eyes locked on theirs. “You working for Gray? The Larks? Nadya?”

The figure’s lips curve into a faint smile, visible even in the dim light. “You’re still thinking too small. This isn’t just about your little love triangle or your stolen money. This is about power. And you’re a pawn who’s played his part.”

A pawn. The word stings, cutting deeper than I’d admit. I’ve spent years building my empire, controlling Sophia, outmaneuvering her family, only to be reduced to this? My hand twitches toward my gun, but the figure’s pistol snaps up, aimed at my chest. “Don’t,” they warn. “You’re useful alive. For now.”

My mind races, searching for an angle, a way out. I need to get to Sophia, to remind her who she belongs to, to stop Julian before he buries me. But this figure they know too much, move too cleanly. They’re not just a hired gun; they’re a player in a game I didn’t even know I was in. “What do you want me to do?” I ask, hating the desperation in my voice.

“Stay quiet. Stay close. And when the time comes, you’ll deliver a message.” They step closer, the pistol unwavering. “Tell Gray he can’t protect her. Not from what’s coming.”

My blood runs cold. “What’s coming?” I ask, but they don’t answer, their eyes glinting with a knowledge that makes my skin crawl. The voices in the living room grow louder, Julian’s sharp tone cutting through, and I realize they’re arguing about me, about the danger. I could call out, expose this intruder, but something tells me that’d be a death sentence, not just for me but for Sophia.

I glance toward the living room, my heart pounding. I need to play this smart, bide my time. Emily’s out there somewhere, probably watching, waiting for her moment to strike. Or maybe she’s the body in the grass, her betrayal catching up to her. The thought sends a twisted satisfaction through me she’s been a thorn in my side, her jealousy a mirror of my own obsession. But if she’s dead, who’s pulling the strings?

The figure motions toward a side room, a storage closet barely lit by a single bulb. “In there,” they say. “You wait until I’m gone. Try anything, and you’ll join your friend outside.”

I comply, my mind racing as I step into the cramped space, the door closing behind me. The lock clicks, trapping me, but I’m already planning. I pull out my phone, my fingers trembling as I text Emily: “Where are you? Things went south.” No response. My gut twists. Is she dead? Or is she playing me, just like everyone else?

Minutes pass, the cabin silent except for the faint hum of voices. I press my ear to the door, catching fragments—Julian’s voice, low and urgent, Sophia’s, trembling but defiant. They’re planning to move again, to another safehouse. I smirk despite myself. They can run, but I’ll find them. I always do.

Then, a new sound a low, rhythmic thumping, like a helicopter approaching. My pulse spikes. Backup? Police? Or something worse? I fumble with the lock, my fingers slick with sweat, but it won’t budge. The thumping grows louder, the air vibrating, and I hear Julian shout, “Sophia, get down.”

The closet door rattles as a deafening crash shakes the cabin, wood splintering somewhere nearby. The helicopter’s roar drowns out everything, and a blinding light floods through the cracks in the door, illuminating the tiny space. Voices sharp, commanding, unfamiliar bark orders outside, and I hear Sophia scream, a sound that tears through me. Is this my chance to reclaim her, or has the game shifted, leaving me trapped as a new player storms the board, ready to end us all?