Chapter 2: The Predator’s Debt

Chapter 2: The Predator’s Debt

The silence in the boardroom was heavy, thick enough to choke a normal man. Maya Thorne felt the air pressure change, as if the oxygen was being sucked out of the room. She had interviewed killers and kingpins, but Cillian Vane was different. He didn't just feel like a powerful man; he felt like a force of nature.

"I’ve walked into a robbery investigation," Maya said, her voice steadier than she felt. "And judging by your reaction, I’ve walked into a billionaire’s bruised ego."

Cillian took another step. He was so close now she could see the golden flecks in his eyes—eyes that seemed to glow in the dim light of the overcast afternoon. He leaned down, his lips inches from her ear.

"You’ve walked into a war, Maya. And you’ve done it with a smile on your face."

He reached out. Maya expected him to grab the file, but instead, his fingers brushed against her neck as he tucked a stray curl behind her ear. The contact was electric. A literal spark jumped between them, and Maya gasped, her skin tingling as if she’d been branded.

Cillian froze. His nostrils flared, taking in her scent, and for a second, she saw his pupils dilate until his eyes were almost entirely black.

"You feel it, don't you?" he whispered, his voice vibrating deep in his chest. "The pull."

Maya stepped back, putting distance between them. She needed to think. "I feel like you’re trying to intimidate a witness. Let’s look at the facts, Vane. The man who took the Silver Moonstone didn't use a drill. He didn't use explosives. He ripped the vault door off its hinges like it was made of wet cardboard."

She pointed to the photo in her file—a grainy still of a massive, shadowy figure with eyes that reflected the camera's infrared light like a wolf’s.

"That’s not human," she said firmly. "I’ve seen state-of-the-art tech, and I’ve seen bodybuilders on every steroid known to man. Nobody does that. Who is he?"

Cillian turned his back to her, walking to the window. He looked out at the city, his hands clasped behind his back. "His name is Julian Blackwood. He’s a... competitor. And he doesn't want the stone for its market value."

"Then why?"

"Because that stone is a key," Cillian said, turning back to her. His expression was now a mask of cold, corporate steel. "And in the wrong hands, it opens doors that should stay locked. You’ve seen too much, Miss Thorne. Usually, when someone sees Julian in action, they don’t live long enough to file a report."

Maya felt a chill run down her spine. "Is that a threat?"

"It’s a warning," Cillian countered. He walked back to his desk and pressed a button on his intercom. "Prepare the penthouse. And cancel my meetings for the rest of the week."

"Wait, what are you doing?" Maya asked, her hand moving instinctively to the pocket where she kept her pepper spray.

Cillian’s eyes locked onto hers, and this time, the gold was unmistakable. It wasn't a trick of the light. "I'm keeping you alive. From this moment on, you are under my personal protection. You don't go to your apartment, you don't call your office, and you don't leave my sight."

"I am not one of your employees, Vane! You can't just—"

"I’m not hiring you as a consultant, Maya," he growled, and for the first time, she heard the faint, metallic scrape of claws against his desk. "I’m claiming a debt. You brought the target to my door. Now, you’re going to help me find him before he finds you."