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Chapter 10

Author: Anatory
last update publish date: 2026-04-25 02:36:27

I wake up early, even before the alarm goes off. The grey December light filters through the apartment's electric blinds. I lie still for a few minutes, staring at the immaculate ceiling, my heart still heavy from yesterday. The keys are on the nightstand, lying there like a silent reminder. I get up, barefoot on the warm wooden floor. I take a long, almost scalding shower, to wash away the fatigue and accumulated tension. I pull on black skinny jeans, a cream cashmere jumper (one of the ones h
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  • The Devil in a suit    Chapter 20

    — Amanda, sweetheart! How was your day?Her voice is warm, familiar, a balm on my raw nerves. I force a smile, even though she can't see it.— Good, Mum. Just… busy. And you? How's Luna?She laughs softly, a sound that takes me back home, to the cosy living room with the fireplace and the smell of bergamot tea.— Oh, she's adorable! She's already conquered the whole neighbourhood. She meows all the time for cuddles, and she loves climbing the curtains. Thank you again, sweetheart. It was exactly what I needed to fill the emptiness.I listen, letting her voice soothe me. We talk about the kitten: how she's settled her in, the mischief she's already getting up to, which kibble she prefers. Then she moves on to the usual questions: my work, my apartment, whether I'm eating well. I answer vaguely, avoiding details.— Everything's fine, Mum. Really.Lie. But I can't tell her. Not about level -2, not about the torture, not about Cameron.The conversation lasts fifteen minutes. I hang up wit

  • The Devil in a suit    Chapter 19

    My heart is beating so hard I feel like it will explode in my chest, a frantic rhythm pulsing in my temples like an incessant warning. I'm still pressed against the door of the small room, the folder clutched against me like a pitiful shield, my breath short and uneven. On the other side, in the underground office, Cameron is adjusting his trousers with a mechanical gesture, his face impassive despite the visible tension in his shoulders. Natalia, the blonde in the red dress, picks up her bag with a forced smile, her heels clicking on the concrete like muffled gunshots. She murmurs something I don't hear, then leaves, slamming the door behind her. Cameron is alone now, his phone to his ear, his voice low and authoritative:— Yes, I'll handle it. Meeting at 8 p.m.He hangs up, runs a hand through his black hair still damp from the rain, and heads for the exit.Panic. Pure panic. I have to leave. Fast. Before he sees me, before anyone catches me here, on this forbidden level where I hav

  • The Devil in a suit    Chapter 18

    My stomach knots. "Like before"? So there was a before. A history between them. I feel an unexpected pang of jealousy, acidic and burning, even though I have no right to feel this way. Cameron doesn't look up immediately, continuing to flip through the file as if she isn't there. But I see his jaw tighten, a vein pulsing in his temple. He doesn't look charmed. On the contrary, his expression remains neutral, almost annoyed.— Natalia, he finally says, his voice deep and controlled, without a trace of warmth. He closes the file with a sharp gesture, sets it aside. I called you for information, not for your games. What do you have on the Russian transfers?She laughs softly, a crystalline sound that rings false in this confined space. She slowly walks around the desk, her heels clicking on the floor with calculated precision, like a predator circling her prey.— Always straight to the point, huh? That's what I like about you. But you know I work better when I'm… motivated.She moves clo

  • The Devil in a suit    Chapter 17

    The giant strikes again, an uppercut to the chin that snaps the man's head back. Blood flies. The man screams, a guttural sound that makes me nauseous. I instinctively step back, disgusted, horrified. My stomach turns. This is violent. Abject. These men are enjoying themselves. They're torturing as if it's a game. And Cameron… Cameron isn't there, but I know he condones this. This is his world. His orders. His men. How can he? How can he go from being protective, warm with me that desperate kiss, those hands trembling with fear for my safety to such abject violence? To letting men like these break someone for information, for money, for power? I feel tears rising, not just from fear, but from sadness. From disappointment. Who is he really? The man who protects me or the one who destroys?I take a step back, the folder almost slipping from my clammy hands. My heel hits a cable on the floor. A sharp, metallic sound. My heart stops.Inside, the voices stop.— What was that? growls the

  • The Devil in a suit    Chapter 16

    I move toward the service elevator. The door is grey, ordinary, with a discreet sign: "Strictly forbidden to unauthorised personnel." I ignore it, press the call button. The doors open with a quiet hiss, almost too polite for such a place. I step inside, my heart beating a little faster, and press the button for -2 without hesitating. The elevator descends in silence, too fast, as if it knows I have no right to be there.Why am I doing this? Curiosity. That damned curiosity that has been eating at me since the first day. Since I overheard that whispered conversation in his office, since I signed that contract that bound me to him without really understanding why. Since that kiss violent, desperate that left me trembling and full of questions. I want to know. I have to know who Cameron Black really is.The doors open with a muffled ding. The air hits me immediately: cold, damp, thick with the smell of rusted metal and old sweat that tightens my throat. I step out of the cabin, my pum

  • The Devil in a suit    Chapter 15

    I wake up Monday morning with a strange feeling in my chest, as if my body still carries the weight of that stolen kiss in the rain. The weekend passed like a thick fog, a mix of loneliness, confusion, and memories coming back in burning flashes. I haven't seen Cameron since that night. Not a call, not a surprise visit. Just a few cold, practical texts, as if he'd erected an invisible wall between us to erase what happened. One message about my groceries he sent Alfred, efficient as always, with a precise list and bags full of everything I'd asked for, plus a few extras I hadn't mentioned. Another about my personal things, delivered Sunday morning by an anonymous courier: my memory box, my old comfy sweatshirts, my favourite books, accompanied by a short, impersonal handwritten note: *"If you need anything, call me. Cameron."* He also gave me Alfred's number to communicate with him directly. Practical. Controlling. Always that need to manage everything, even from a distance.I stare

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