Invisible String (Lawlight)

Chapter Three

Light's POV

The world outside my window was muted in the deepening twilight, shadows lengthening across the walls of my childhood room. This space, once a sanctuary of innocence, now felt like a battlefield—a place where strategies were devised, risks calculated, and my fate hung in the balance.

With L's ever-watchful presence, I knew I couldn't afford to let my guard down, even here. The handcuff tethering us together clinked softly as I moved, a constant reminder of the invisible chains binding me to this relentless pursuit of power.

My father had agreed to let me gather my belongings, but even this simple task had become an intricate dance of deception. I could feel L's eyes on me, a silent predator hunting for the slightest slip, the smallest hint of guilt. He hadn't said much on the ride over—his silence was more unnerving than any interrogation.

As I reached into my pocket, my fingers brushed against the hidden slip of paper. The piece of the Death Note, my last resort, a dark ace up my sleeve. It was small, easily overlooked, but its power was immense—a tangible link to the supernatural force I commanded. But using it now, with L so close, would be risky. I needed to wait for the perfect moment when the scales tipped in my favor.

I packed deliberately, pretending to mull over what I might need at the Task Force headquarters. I'd decided on a few books, some clothes, my laptop—all the while keeping up the appearance of calm deliberation. L stood by the doorway, arms crossed, his expression as unreadable as ever.

"You're taking your time, Light," L remarked, his tone casual, but I could sense the underlying suspicion.

I glanced at him, allowing a small smile to tug at my lips. "Just making sure I don't forget anything important. It's not every day I move out."

L's eyes narrowed slightly. "True, but it's not as if you'll be far from home."

His words were a reminder—L was tightening his grip, his scrutiny becoming more intense with each passing hour. But if he thought this would break me, he was sorely mistaken. I would use this to my advantage, just as I had every other obstacle that had crossed my path.

Satisfied that I had everything I needed, I zipped up my bag and turned to face L. "I'm ready," I said, my voice steady. "We can go."

L didn't move immediately. He seemed to be studying me, searching for something in my expression that he couldn't find. After a tense moment, he nodded and turned toward the door, the chain of the handcuffs pulling me to follow.

As we descended the stairs, the familiar sights and sounds of my home seemed distant, almost unreal. The normalcy of it all contrasted sharply with the tension coiling within me. My mother was in the kitchen, the smell of dinner wafting through the air, but I had no appetite. Not with L breathing down my neck.

We reached the front door, where my father stood waiting, a look of concern etched on his face. He handed me a small box. "Your mother wanted you to have these," he said, his voice soft. "Some things to remind you of home."

I accepted the box with a smile, though I didn't need any reminders. My memories of this house were ingrained in every corner of my mind. "Tell her I said thank you."

As we stepped outside, the night air was cool, a stark contrast to the warmth inside. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the battle ahead. The Task Force headquarters awaited, a place where I would have to tread even more carefully, where every move could be my last if I wasn't careful.

The car ride back was silent, the only sound the hum of the engine and the faint clink of the handcuffs as we shifted in our seats. L stared out the window, his face partially obscured by the darkness. But I knew he wasn't lost in thought; he was planning, calculating, just as I was.