All Chapters of Shadows of Desire: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Elysium pulsed like a heartbeat that night—low light, soft music, conversations braided with laughter as carefully as rope. The party was supposed to be lighter, a pressure valve after weeks of tension: masks optional, scenes pared back, more mingling than spectacle. No phones on the floor, lockers sealed, dungeon doors under watch. Victor’s new rules wrapped the club like a second skin—tight, protective, a little hard to breathe in.I traced the collar at my throat—my third night wearing it inside the club. The ring at its center caught a glint of candlelight. People noticed. Some smiled with respect; a few whispered, then looked away. The weight grounded me. Mine. Yours. Sometimes I mouthed the words just to keep them close.Victor stood at the edge of the main lounge, two steps above the crowd, surveying everything with that calm that isn’t really calm. He looked like a king before a storm, silver threading his dark hair and steel lacing his posture. Marco worked the room with a dr

The council chamber felt smaller tonight, like the walls had leaned in to listen. Candles guttered along the paneling, throwing ribbons of gold over leather chairs and the long mahogany table. Victor stood at the head as always—sleeves rolled, jaw clean-cut and set—while Marco sorted a stack of printouts and Andre polished his glasses with the patience of a priest.Jennifer arrived late.She didn’t enter so much as glide—red silk, black hair, the scent of something dark and expensive trailing in her wake. The room’s hum shifted. Even the candles seemed to straighten.“Wonderful,” she said lightly, dropping into a chair opposite Victor without looking at him. “Another war council. Did we run out of iron keys and cameras to buy, or did we simply need the ritual scolding to feel alive?”Victor’s gaze didn’t flicker. “We’re here to finalize the tightened screening protocols and monitoring coverage. We’ve identified three architectural blind spots. They’ll be gone by week’s end.”“Of cours

The night started like any other. Elysium pulsed with its usual mix of laughter, rope creaks, and the faint metallic rhythm of chains swaying somewhere in the distance. But when I saw Leo’s face at the bar, pale beneath his polished exterior, my stomach dropped.He clutched his phone in one trembling hand, glass of whiskey untouched in the other. When I slid onto the stool beside him, he flinched like a man who’d just heard the trigger click.“Leo?” My voice was barely a whisper. “What happened?”He turned the phone toward me. The glow of the screen seared my eyes. An email.Subject: We have what you don’t want seen.Attachment: video.mp4The text beneath was short, cruel: Pay, or watch your secret spread.My pulse thudded. “Oh, God…”He didn’t need to open it—I already knew. But he did. And there it was: grainy footage of his last scene with Jennifer. Leather gleamed under red light, his body taut under her whip, his voice cracking with both pain and release. A moment that had been t

The truth had been burning a hole in me for weeks. Every time Victor touched me, every time his voice softened against my ear, the fire grew hotter. I couldn’t keep hiding behind silence. My article—the secret that had brought me into Elysium in the first place—had to come out of the shadows. If I didn’t tell him myself, I’d never forgive the cowardice.So I decided: tonight, I would tell him. In person. No more delays, no more excuses.I rehearsed the words in my head as I paced my small apartment. Victor, I came here under false pretenses… I was sent to write about the club… but then I found you, and everything changed. It never sounded right. It either felt too clinical, like a confession on paper, or too romantic, like an apology wrapped in longing.I told myself it didn’t matter how eloquent I was. What mattered was honesty.By the time I reached Elysium, my palms were slick and my knees weak. I wore a simple black dress Victor liked, the one that dipped low at the back. The coll

The air in Elysium carried an edge that night—like static before lightning. Even the chandeliers seemed sharper, every prism of crystal reflecting too much. I knew something was wrong the moment I saw Victor’s face from across the lounge.He was still, too still, seated in the leather chair that dominated the corner near the fire. One leg crossed, a glass of untouched bourbon on the table beside him. His eyes—those endless blue eyes that usually softened when they landed on me—were shards of ice.“Little one,” he said when I approached. His voice was velvet stretched thin, a note too close to snapping. “Sit.”I obeyed, heart pounding. I knelt at his feet, my body recognizing the ritual even though my mind screamed that this wasn’t a scene. This was something else. Something worse.On the table, beside his drink, lay a manila envelope. Its flap was torn open, the contents fanned out with deliberate precision. Pages. Typed. Familiar.My blood chilled. My words.He picked up the first pa