Under The Mask Of My Enemy

Chapter 1: Thorne's POV The dock reeked of sea salt and decay, a smell that clung in the air like a warning. I hunched behind a rusted container, the earpiece clutched in my hand. "Everybody in place?" My voice was calm, but inside my heart went the rhythm of war drums. "Ready, Lisa whispered, our sniper tucked away, somewhere high up above the chaos that would soon erupt. "Locked in," Marcos repeated. His deep voice, composed and controlled. Eric followed. "All clear." We were ghosts in the night, invisible, unstoppable - or so I had told myself. I spotted him through my binoculars-Garrett Cullen. He stood below, under the flickering lights, as if he was the king of the world. That arrogant smirk on his face was a brand that had been burned in my memory, mocking me each time I closed my eyes. He was the reason we were here tonight. Months of investigation, sleepless nights, and uncounted sacrifices had brought us to this moment. This was our chance to bring him down, to

Chapter 3: Thorne's POVI woke to a dull throb in my head, the kind that made every small movement feel like a thousand needles piercing my skull. My eyelids fluttered open, and the world around me seemed blurry, like I was seeing through fogged glass. The smell of antiseptic hung in the air, and there was an overwhelming sense of unfamiliarity.Where was I?I attempted to sit up, and that felt like weightlifting. Stiff, uncooperative muscles-the mere thought of movement registered protests in my body. Panic gripped me, but I forced it down, trying to focus. The bright lights overhead hurt my eyes. I squinted, trying to make out the sterile room.The pain in my head was razor-sharp-unbearable. Each time I tried to remember anything-my name, where I was, how I'd ended up here-my mind would shatter like glass, the pieces scattering beyond my grasp. It was as if there was just nothing there. No memory. No past. Just. emptiness.A voice pierced the fog, soft and calming. "Easy, take it ea

Chapter 5: Garrett's POVWork had always been a means to an end for me, a necessity, never something I was passionate about. But these days, it was barely even that. My focus had completely shifted to Thorne. His recovery was all I thought about, but not entirely for noble reasons.Each day, I brought him food, not only for health reasons but as a test, too. If Thorne really had no memory at all, it would have shown in the way he reacted to the things I did, the things I said. A slip of the tongue, a flicker of recognition, anything could give him away. Yet, day in and day out, he kept his story straight. No familiarity, no suspicion. Just politeness and gratitude, silence and distance.Yet, there was something in the way he carried himself that piqued my interest. He was trusting in a way I wasn't used to anymore, not after all that had happened. Despite the confusion, despite the inability to recall who I was or what kind of life he'd led, Thorne didn't question my presence. There w

Chapter 7Garrett's POVAfter binge-reading several romance novels, I became convinced that I knew what love-or at least the appearance of it-was all about. The grand gestures, the flowery language, and the exaggerated display of affection finally led me to one conclusion: it wasn't about the feelings or emotions; it was about the actions. You didn't need to feel anything if you could make the other person believe you felt something. It was all a game of appearances, and I was playing it better than anyone.Thorne had been through so much in the past weeks, and with his discharge from the hospital just around the corner, I figured it was now or never. If I was going to keep this charade up and make him really believe I was his lover, I needed to notch it up a level. And what better way than taking the advice I'd garnered from those endless romance novels?I called for Oliver, my ever-efficient butler, and tasked him with ordering 999 red roses to be delivered to the penthouse. I'd rea

Chapter 9: The Hunt for MemoryThorne's POVTwo weeks had passed since I had moved into Garrett's penthouse, and my memory was still a hazy blur. I could hardly remember my own name without needing to double-check with someone. The memories of my life before the accident had not returned, and every day was like a walk through fog, with no clear path to be seen or any anchor to hold onto. In many ways, the apartment was empty-beautifully furnished and rich in luxuries, but it wasn't mine. Every piece of furniture felt foreign; every wall was cold, unwelcoming. I didn't recognize the space. Even the air I breathed seemed unfamiliar, as if it belonged to someone else.Despite the care Garrett showed, despite his attempts to help me recover, I couldn't shake the feeling of being lost in my own skin. At times, the emptiness of my mind was worse than the physical pain I endured. I wanted to remember. I wanted to reclaim what was mine-who I had been, who I had become. But no matter how hard