All Chapters of Shadows of Desire: Chapter 151 - Chapter 155

The club felt wrong that night.Not unsafe — just too quiet.Like the walls were holding their breath right along with us.We were all scattered across Elysium’s main floor, pretending to do small, normal things as if tomorrow wasn’t looming over us like a pressure drop before a hurricane. Marco checked comms, pacing like a wild thing. Lena busied her hands tying and untying a soft rope, her fingers trembling only when she thought no one noticed. Jennifer and Leo were whispering in a corner, leaning into each other for strength.And Victor…Victor was looking for me.I felt him before I saw him — that subtle shift in the air, the way the room sharpened around his presence. When I turned, he was already walking toward me with that steady, unreadable expression he saved for moments when the world was coming apart and he refused to let it show.“Cassie,” he said softly. “Can we talk?”My throat tightened. “I thought we weren’t doing big conversations tonight.”“We aren’t,” he said. “But…

By noon the whole energy of Elysium had changed.Not loud. Not chaotic.Just tight.Like the air had been stretched thin across the ceiling and was waiting to snap over our heads.Lena was back from the café — safe, shaken, wrapped in a soft blanket in the quiet room — but the operation was far from over. The reporter wasn’t retreating. He wasn’t calming down. He wasn’t even doubting his angle.He was escalating.And fast.I sat at the operations desk, headset hanging loosely around my neck, eyes locked on the blinking feed indicators Marco had left running. My stomach felt like it had folded itself into a complicated origami shape no one warned me about.Victor paced the length of the room behind me, silent in a way that meant his brain was red-hot, working every angle at once.Across the comm system, Marco’s voice crackled:“Cass, Vic — bad news. He reached out to Lena again.”I froze. Victor stopped mid-step.“When?” Victor demanded.“Just now.” Marco’s breath came tight, controlle

Adrian looked smaller than I expected.I don’t mean physically; he’s tall, wiry, the kind of man who fills a room by simply taking up space. I mean the way he folded inward the moment the evidence began to play — like paper scorched by a match. The bravado drained out of his face in strips until what was left was a man trying to remember how to lie convincingly.We were all in the back lounge, the same room where Marco once told us he’d had enough of carrying the weight alone. The leather smelled faintly of lemon oil and old decisions. The overhead light was low but honest. Victor had arranged the chairs in a semi-circle like a tribunal, and I sat with my hands clasped so tightly my knuckles had gone white.Adrian had been invited. Summoned, really. The word felt better in my mouth — less theatrical, more precise. Marco had sent him a polite, empty-sounding message this morning to ask if he’d come by “to clarify some business matters.” Adrian had walked in with his usual smile and a r