Chapter Four

Chapter Four 

Jace's Pov

Lucian never came back.

One minute he was standing too close, saying too little, and looking at me like I was something he wanted to ruin with his hands.

The next minute, he was gone after receiving the phone call.

I went back to the dressing room, ignoring the curious stares from the others. The other dancers whispered to themselves, like I cared.

 Someone said they had heard gunshots from outside. Someone else said they had seen blood on the wall.

I didn’t ask, cause didn’t need to. It was none of my business.

By the time I got out, the night was dark and cold. I turned and saw him—Lucian—through the back alley gate.

 Just for a second.

His shirt was torn, stained dark across the shoulder. He stood over two bodies—Vinco and Mateo, they were regulars at the club, I thought. His face was unreadable. Cold, tired and Empty.

I turned away before he saw me watching.

I didn’t want to know what version of himself he’d become tonight. I’d already seen too much.

I shoved my hands into my pockets and walked away.

The streets were usually quiet at this hour. That strange kind of quiet that made your skin crawl—like the city was holding its breath.

I lit a cigarette. Not because I needed one, but because I needed something to do with my hands. Something to fill the space between my thoughts and the truth I didn’t want to admit:

I was wasting time, and Lucian made me feel something I couldn’t afford to feel.

And now he was killing people in alleys. He was into me, all that was needed right now ere the right cards and I'd have him spilling information.

I took the long route home, cutting through the alley behind the train station. That’s when I felt it.

Footsteps which were not mine.

Shadows behind me, following at a pace just slow enough not to seem obvious. But I knew that I was being followed.

I picked up speed, So did the figure whose face was well hidden by the hood of his hoodie.

By the time I turned the corner onto an empty stretch behind the old bookstore, I’d had enough.

I ducked into a side passage and waited, the blade I kept in my boot already in my hand. Just in case he tried anything funny.

The figure stepped into view a second later.

He was Tall hooded and Careful but it wasn't enough. He didn’t see me until it was too late.

I slammed him against the brick wall, forearm to his throat, blade pressed just under his jaw.

“Try me,” I whispered, voice low.

He didn’t fight. Didn’t even flinch at all.

“I’m not here to hurt you.” He said. "Calm down."

“Good,” I growled. “Because I’m not in the mood to clean blood off my boots.”

“Fair enough.” His voice was calm. Older than I expected. “I’m here because I need your help, and you need mine.”

“Bad way to ask for it,” I muttered, tightening my grip on him. “Who are you?”

“A friend of yours.”

I pressed the blade in a little harder. “Try again.”

He tilted his chin just slightly. I still couldn’t see his face, shadowed beneath the hood.

“Name’s Duncan,” he said. “That’s all you need for now.”

I didn’t relax. “You’ve been following me.”

“I had to be sure you were alone before approaching you.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m about to ask you to betray one of the most dangerous families in this city.”

I blinked, thrown for half a second. Then I laughed, bitter and sharp. “You have the wrong guy.”

“No,” he said. “You’re exactly who I need.”

I stepped back just enough to look at him. His posture didn’t scream assassin or cop. But there was something off. A stillness. Like he wasn’t used to being watched—or maybe he was just good at hiding.

“And what do you think I’m going to do?” I asked. “Twerk the Moreaus into submission?”

“You’re close to Lucian,” Duncan said simply.

My jaw twitched.

“I’m not close to anyone.” I retorted. "Yet." I added.

“He watches you,” he added. “He bought out a whole club just to see you dance.” Duncan stated the obvious. "I've seen the way he looks at you."

“He’s a pervert, a killer. Not a partner.”

“Maybe,” Duncan said. “But you’re the only person in his orbit that isn’t family or bloodstained.”

“And what exactly do you want from me?”

“I want you to help me take them down. The Moreaus. From the inside.”

I stared at him, stunned. Not because of what he asked—but because something in me didn’t say no right away.

“You’re insane.”

“Probably,” he said, shrugging. “But I’ve spent years watching them burn this city from the inside out. You’re in the right place at the right time, Jace.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He fell silent, waiting for me to say something.

The city groaned in the distance—with a dog barking somewhere far off. And between us, this quiet thread of something dangerous forming.

I sheathed the blade but didn’t let it go.

“You got five seconds,” I said. “To tell me why I should listen to you.”

“Because if we don’t stop them now,” Duncan said quietly. "He's going to keep making people like us orphans."

I gave him a one over, surprised by his words. "How do you know?"

I couldn't see his face clearly but the smile was evident on his face. Not a smile of amusement, but that of pain.

"Just like he killed yours, he killed mine." Duncan said. "I've been studying that family long enough to know, and I want to destroy them." He clenched his fists.

"What needs to be done?" I asked.

Duncan dipped his hand into his pocket, produced a paper which he handed over to me. 

"The first step towards our victory."