𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 13 ~𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐤

Dimitri never moved alone. Where shadows lingered, Louis was never far behind.

Tall, sharp-featured, with the kind of elegance that betrayed his French blood, Louis carried himself like a man who had nothing to prove and everything under control. The others called him ‘the Frenchman’, half in jest, but none of them missed the steel beneath his quiet exterior.

He wasn’t loud, not the type to bark orders or boast. Louis spoke only when necessary, and when he did, Dimitri listened. Fluent in three tongues, equally skilled in reading a room as he was in dismantling a threat, he had become Dimitri’s shadow, the one who smoothed the edges, handled the details, and made sure nothing slipped past unnoticed.

Some men earned trust by blood, others by fear. Louis earned his through something rarer, an unwavering loyalty that had never once faltered. Dimitri valued him for it, keeping him close, close enough to guard his flank but far enough that his presence was almost ghostlike, a silent blade in the dark.

He knew when to play and when to set the jokes aside. Away from this life, he was easy with a grin, the kind of man who could turn a room light with a single remark. But beside Dimitri, in moments that mattered, there was no trace of that charm. There, his sharpness showed instead, the part of him that watched, weighed, and acted without a beat of hesitation. Louis carried both sides easily, because he understood that survival wasn’t about strength alone. It was about knowing exactly which face the moment required.

Even so, every now and then, when fatigue crept into his tone or when anger slipped through the cracks, a faint trace of Marseille would color his words, a reminder that Louis didn’t quite belong to their Italian world, yet had carved out his place within it.

…

The soft light of morning spilled through the curtains, casting golden streaks across Cassandra’s room. She stirred awake, her mind instantly remembering what day it was, the charity event.

Her wavy brunette hair tumbled loosely around her shoulders as she sat up, running a hand through the strands. The day carried a quiet stillness, as though the world outside was holding its breath. Cassandra moved through her apartment with deliberate ease, preparing a light breakfast, and setting her dress bag where the sunlight touched it. Every detail felt like a step toward something significant.

She caught her reflection in the mirror across the room. The warm ivory of her skin glowed faintly in the morning light, her hair cascading in soft waves, framing her face with effortless elegance. For a moment, she studied herself, not with doubt, but with admiration.

By late afternoon, Cassandra’s apartment had transformed into a quiet haven of preparation. The dress bag she had laid out earlier now hung open, revealing the gown she had chosen for the evening. She trailed her fingers lightly over the fabric, feeling the smooth texture glide beneath her touch. It wasn’t extravagant, but it carried a kind of understated elegance, something that spoke of her taste more than her means.

Her wavy brunette hair, left loose in the morning, was now carefully styled into soft waves that framed her face and fell gracefully down her back. A light touch of makeup highlighted her hazel eyes, their warm depths catching the light as she leaned closer to the mirror. She wanted to look polished, but still herself.

On the table, the folder containing her speech sat beside a pair of delicate earrings. Cassandra opened it once more, her eyes scanning the familiar lines, then quietly removed the page. She folded them neatly and slipped them into her clutch, discreet, easy to carry. The folder, now empty, remained on the table, a quiet witness to her hours of practice.

Slipping into her gown, she fastened the earrings and stepped into her heels, each movement steady, deliberate. When she finally looked at herself in the mirror, she hardly recognized the woman staring back, graceful, composed, ready.

By evening, she would be stepping into a ballroom filled with the city’s most influential figures. She didn’t know what awaited her there, but a part of her couldn’t shake the feeling that this night would mark a turning point.

A horn sounded faintly outside, pulling her back to the present. Hayden had told her earlier that his driver would pick her up, and now the sleek black car waited at the curb. Cassandra gathered her clutch, draped a light shawl over her shoulders, and stepped out into the cool evening air.

The driver greeted her politely and held the door open. As she slid into the car, the familiar scent of Hayden’s cologne met her first, followed by the man himself, seated with the calm authority he always carried. His gaze flicked toward her, sharp but unreadable, before softening just slightly.

“You’re right on time,” he said, his voice low, even.

Cassandra offered a small smile, adjusting her clutch on her lap. “Wouldn’t want to keep you waiting.”

Hayden gave a short nod, signaling to the driver. The car eased forward, carrying them toward the glittering night that lay ahead.

Author's Note:

Louis is such a mystery isn't he? One moment calm, the next sharp as a blade. Tell me, if you met him in real life, would you trust him instantly, or keep your guard up? Comment below, I'm curious!