Shadowed desires- Adrian thorn

Chapter 2: Beneath the Surface

Eva winters -
   
I watched Adrian Thorn's retreating figure disappear into the crowd, his dark, commanding presence lingering in the air like the scent of expensive cologne—seductive but deadly. I'd been in The Abyss for less than an hour, and already I could feel the weight of his eyes on me, assessing, calculating. But I didn't flinch. I couldn't afford to.

I came here tonight with a purpose. I had to remind myself of that as the whiskey burned a slow, steady path down my throat. I needed to be sharp. Focused. Because getting this close to Adrian Thorn was like playing with a loaded gun. One wrong move, and I'd be the one bleeding.

From the moment I first heard his name whispered in the grimy halls of the criminal courts, I knew he was different from the rest. Adrian Thorn wasn't just a criminal. He wasn't some run-of-the-mill gangster hiding behind a nice suit and a fake smile. He was a force—a phantom that commanded a silent, ruthless empire. The kind that didn't leave loose ends. The kind that made people disappear without a trace. And I needed to find out why.

Six months. That's how long I'd been digging into the shadows of his world. At first, it was just a whisper—a powerful figure in the underworld pulling strings from behind the scenes. But as the bodies started piling up and the missing persons reports became more frequent, his name came up again and again. Not in the police records, of course—never there. It was always in the spaces between, in the silences that followed after the word "Thorn."

I leaned back against the leather booth, my eyes scanning the club. Around me, people moved in a blur of flashing lights and dark shadows, but I'd learned how to filter out the noise. How to focus on what mattered. And right now, what mattered was understanding the man who controlled this kingdom of smoke and mirrors.

I know what you're thinking. Why am I here? Why am I risking everything to chase a ghost? Because that's what Adrian Thorn is—a ghost. He moves like smoke, always one step ahead, always just out of reach. But there's one thing I've learned in my years as a forensic psychologist: ghosts always leave shadows. And shadows, I can track.

I wasn't always this obsessive. Once, I was just like any other young woman with a career and a few dreams. But that was before. Before Mia disappeared. Before my life became a hunt for answers that no one seemed willing to give. Five years. That's how long it's been since my sister vanished. Five long years of chasing shadows and dead ends. I can still see her face, the last day I saw her—a smile that never reached her eyes, a sadness she never shared. I wasn't paying attention then. But I'm paying attention now.

When I first started digging into Adrian Thorn's world, it wasn't about revenge or even justice. It was about finding Mia, about understanding what happened to my sister. And the more I uncovered, the more I became convinced that Adrian Thorn knew something—or worse, that he was responsible.

The official story was that Mia got mixed up with the wrong crowd, that she fell into drugs, maybe ran away when things got tough. But I knew my sister. She was smart, street-smart, and tough as nails. She wouldn't just vanish. Not like that. So, I kept digging, following every breadcrumb, every whisper that pointed back to him. To Thorn.

And what did I find? A man with an empire built on blood and silence. I've spent hours in courtrooms, listening to defense lawyers paint their clients as misunderstood or victims of circumstance. But Adrian Thorn? He's a different breed. His power isn't just in his money or his connections. It's in his presence, in the way he bends people to his will with just a glance. And he knows it.

The first time I saw his face in a photograph, I was struck by the intensity of his eyes—cold, calculating, and yet... dangerous. Not the kind of danger that makes you want to run, but the kind that makes you want to step closer. I think that's why I'm here, sitting in the heart of his den, pretending to sip this whiskey while his men pretend not to notice me. Because if I want to understand him, I need to get close. Closer than anyone has ever gotten.

I've profiled men like him before. Sociopaths. Narcissists. But Adrian? He doesn't fit the mold. He's not reckless or impulsive. He's meticulous. Patient. Every move he makes is calculated, like a master chess player seeing twenty steps ahead. And me? I'm just another piece on his board. Or so he thinks.

Dominic Pierce caught my eye across the room. I know who he is—Thorn's right-hand man, his enforcer. His eyes bore into mine for a moment before he turned away, pretending to be more interested in his drink. But I know better. I've been watched by men like him before. I've spent years learning to read them, to understand their language—the way they move, the way they communicate without words. Dominic was making it clear: I was in their territory now, and they were watching.

Good. Let them watch. It meant I was getting under their skin.

I had to play this carefully, though. I knew enough about Thorn's operation to understand that getting too close could mean a bullet to the head or worse. I've seen the reports—dozens of young women vanishing off the streets, never to be heard from again. Officially, there's no connection. But unofficially, there's a pattern. A trail that leads right back here, to Thorn and his empire. And if there's one thing I've learned, it's that where there's smoke, there's fire.

The disappearances gnaw at me, keep me awake at night. Every face I see in those files is another reminder of why I can't back down. Young women, like Mia, swallowed up by the darkness. And Thorn? He's right in the center of it all, like a spider weaving a web, drawing them in. But for what? Power? Pleasure? Control? Or something darker that I can't even begin to fathom?

I don't have the answers yet. But I'm getting closer. And the closer I get, the more I realize I'm not just doing this for Mia anymore. I'm doing it for every girl who never got to come home, for every family that's still waiting for a knock on the door that will never come.

And maybe, just maybe, I'm doing it for myself, too. Because there's a part of me—a small, dark part—that wants to see Thorn brought to his knees. That wants to tear down his empire brick by bloody brick.

But I can't let him see that. Not yet. I have to be smarter. Faster. I have to get inside his head before he gets inside mine.

I took another sip of the whiskey, letting the burn steady my nerves. I know he's testing me, seeing how far I'll go, how much I'm willing to risk. He wants to know if I'm a threat or just a curiosity.

I'm both. And that's what makes this game so dangerous.

I can feel the tension in the air thickening, like a storm on the horizon. It's only a matter of time before Adrian makes his next move. And when he does, I'll be ready.

For now, I play my part. I lean back, smile at the men who think they're keeping me in line, and I bide my time. Because I know that in a game like this, patience is everything. And I've been patient for a long time.

Thorn doesn't know it yet, but the shadows he hides in are the same ones that will be his undoing. And I'm going to be the one to drag him out into the light.

As I stand and make my way toward the exit, I don't look back. I don't need to. I can feel his eyes on me, even from a distance, like a predator watching its prey. But I'm not prey. Not anymore.

The night air hits me as I step outside, cold and sharp, like a knife against my skin. I breathe it in, let it fill my lungs, and remind myself that this is just the beginning. The beginning of something dark, something dangerous. But if there's one thing I know how to do, it's dance with danger.

And with Adrian Thorn, the dance has only just begun.