The Shadows of our lives

Chapter I

It was the twentieth time I checked my watch in the last 30 minutes and it took all I had in me to not just burst through the damn door. Patience was not my strong suit and something told me the old man knew it and was doing this on purpose. But then again, it could've just been my nerves breaking.

I knew why I was here. It was more than obvious. My job changed, again, and I needed to be transferred into a different division, where I would work for 2 months at best, before I would be faced with this door again.

The cycle never changed since I first set foot in this building and something deep down told me it never would. I was cursed with this type of living with no chance of escape. Life shut down all the routes I could've taken, long before I even knew how to walk. And I could not afford to whine about it, at least not out loud. Just like so many others.

"The Chief can see you now," a woman's voice dipped in caramel brought me away from my thoughts.

She wore a black button-up shirt and a bright red skirt, both showing her curves well. The red colored lips caught my attention for a second too long before I nodded and passed her. She didn't need to tell me where to go, I knew this building better than my own house and I hated it. I stepped around a corner that had a black vase with, to me, an unknown kind of tree, and ended in a corridor bathed in neutral black and white colors. Multiple pictures of previous chiefs smiled at me bitterly as I walked further, staring straight ahead of me.

I stopped in front of yet another door and knocked impatiently.

"Come in," was heard from behind it.

I walked in immediately. "Chief," I greeted before closing the nicely carved wooden door.

A man in his 50's stared at me from behind his desk. He must've been freshly shaved, because his beard looked a lot less bushy than I remembered. A familiar scent of cinnamon overwhelmed me almost immediately and I knew that his wife had visited him today. His office was, as always, tidied and one wouldn't find a spot of dust. Mountains of documents were all around and yet in obviously thought through places.

I didn't know whether he was the one with clear OCD or his wife, but we weren't familiar enough for me to be qualified and ask about it.

"Ciel," he said back and stood up. And that never meant anything good.

"Have I wronged someone again?" I asked but continued. "Spoke badly, perhaps?"

I was being bold, but the Chief seemed to be in a good mood. For which I owed thanks to his wife, otherwise I may have been thrown out.

A low chuckle escaped his lips as he walked around the table and leaned against it, arms crossed on his chest. He wore a dark blue suit and everything about him, even his black shining shoes, screamed rich and proud.

"No," he shook his head lightly, his eyes meeting mine again. "This time your transfer was my call."

I furrowed my brows, confused, but said nothing, to which he continued.

"Ciel," he said, a long breath escaped him and he pushed his glasses up. "Are you familiar with special divisions?"

I nodded.

Special divisions were formed with one sole reason, to catch the uncatchable. And I knew exactly where this conversation was going.

"I will keep this quick and simple," he declared. Most certainly he saw how stiff and ready to leave I was. "Starting tomorrow you are a part of special division 12 and under the command of Santiago Havannah."

And there it was.

My brows stayed down in an uncomfortable frown. I couldn't object, this was an order, whether the Chief made it sound so or not. I knew it was. It always was, because someone like me didn't have a say in this. Someone like me couldn't whine, couldn't say no. Someone like me was bound by their arms and legs like a beast, because I was never more than that to society, and never would be. It made me sick.

Before I was able to speak, there was a knock on the door. I didn't look back, my eyes stayed fixated on the Chief like if I were eyeing an easy prey.

"Speaking of the wolf," the Chief exclaimed and the door opened.

"Sir." I heard a low voice of a man behind me, then footsteps sounded on the carpet. "You called for me?"

The Chief nodded and motioned with his hand towards me. And felt the newcomer stop next to me.

Neither of us needed to bend our heads, our heights aligned. Two gray irises stared back at me, gaze cold as ice. His ash black hair was styled back just like mine, the shine of gel on it, keeping it in place, although a few strands had escaped it and those were now hanging along his forehead and before his right eye. Some white parts started to grow through the thick dark color and showed his years better than his face. Dressed in black buttoned-up shirt and jeans, and for a split second I thought I was facing the reaper.

And by the way he looked at me, it was clear he knew. The spite and disgust was felt around him.

"That's him?" Santiago hissed, his ice cold eyes traveling onto the Chief.

The Chief nodded again. "Ciel Thatcher, 26 years old, under my wing for more than 2 years and ready to be under your command."

The Chief proclaimed me like I was an object they could trade and I felt my blood boil, my fists clenched hard, but said nothing.

Santiago ran his eyes over me again, I didn't need to look to feel him practically piercing my skin. Then he turned to the Chief. "Are you sure about him?" he declared.

He was seemingly very dissatisfied with the idea of having me anywhere near him. At least one thing we would have in common, not like I cared though.

The Chief let out a scoff. "Have I ever disappointed you?" he sneered.

Although the Chief was full of jokes, Santiago seemed to have none. The tension around could be felt to the bone when the two of us locked eyes again, staring at one another like we could tear each other's flesh off any second. I could feel he was strong and his every gaze screamed the dominance of a leader. But for a good reason. He needed to be a monster, because he worked with monsters, and I was one of them.

"What do you say, Ciel?"

The Chief made it sound like I had a damn way out of this, like I had a choice. My fists clenched harder, nails threatened to pierce skin.

I scoffed, amused by the words and could feel Santiago's cold gaze stabbing me. "Can I say anything?" I asked, trying to sound at least remotely acceptable.

The Chief watched me for a few seconds. "You are no prisoner. So yes, you can speak."

What a fucking lie.

I couldn't read him, never could. I never knew if this man hated me or cherished some positive feelings towards me. I was never harmed by him in any way, but he also never showed me I was anything to him. But then again, it seemed as if this man had no feelings towards anyone, other than his beloved wife.

I took a deep breath, containing myself to not just walk out of here, because that would do nothing but bring me trouble later. As innocent as the Chief looked and gave me all these pretty words, it was clear that no matter what I said, I'd be in the same hell hole.

The team I've worked with till now was one of the more peaceful ones. Nobody talked to me or looked at me longer than they needed to. Well, except for one person that is. A woman named Cassandra has been a problem. A very annoying problem.

"No, I'm good," I said finally. It didn't matter where I ended up. In the end, I needed the money and this was the only job I could stay in permanently. Even though hoping to get shot in the head in the process was laughable and desperate. However for many years now I wasn't much more than that.

"Well then," the Chief turned to Santiago, "he's all yours."

Not a price to collect, a piece of garbage to pick up and use.

Santiago sighed, said nothing and turned, leaving the office. He didn't need to tell me, I knew I had to follow, like the dog I was.