THE PAWN AND THE KING

9

My thoughts were a tangled mess, spinning like the wheels of the car as I made my way back to Raeland's estate. I couldn't stop replaying the conversation with my father, his voice lingering in my head like a cloud that wouldn't dissipate. He had asked for something small—a pendrive. Such an innocuous thing, but the weight it carried was unbearable. It held the evidence of every illegal transaction, every dirty deal. Everything that Raeland had been using to keep him under control.

And then there was the promise. If I brought it back to him, he'd let it all go. He'd forget about the betrayal, the bloodshed between the Moretti family and us. But we both knew it wasn't that simple. How could it be? Nothing ever was.

As I stepped out of the car, the evening air clung to my skin like a cool blanket, yet the tension winding through me was enough to keep any sense of calm at bay. The estate loomed before me, its towering columns bathed in the soft glow of the porch lights, casting long shadows across the stone path. My footsteps echoed as I walked toward the massive front doors, each step feeling heavier than the last.

I hadn't noticed Raeland's car at first, but now, as I stood at the entrance, I saw it parked neatly in the driveway, glinting under the streetlights. It caught me off guard. He was usually home late, well after the moon had climbed high into the sky, when silence settled over the estate like a shroud. A prickle of unease crept down my spine as I pushed open the door.

Inside, the foyer was dimly lit, the warm, muted glow from the chandeliers overhead creating a soft golden hue across the polished marble floors. The house was quiet, too quiet. The silence pressed against my ears, amplifying the dull thud of my pulse. My eyes adjusted to the light, and that's when I saw him.

Raeland stood near the staircase, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. His sharp, measured steps were full of restless energy, his body tense, as if coiled too tightly and on the verge of snapping. His dark hair was tousled, and his jaw was clenched, but his expression was unreadable. There was something different about him, something off. The moment his gaze met mine, he froze, and the intensity of his eyes sent a shiver down my spine.

The corners of his mouth twitched upward, a faint, almost practiced smile stretching across his face as he strode toward me. But his movements were too controlled, too deliberate. My stomach twisted with unease, and I instinctively stiffened as he approached, the sound of his footsteps eerily calm despite the obvious tension in the air.

"Where have you been?" His voice was smooth, too smooth. There was no anger, no sharpness, just a carefully measured calmness that unsettled me even more. He stopped a few feet from me, his eyes searching mine, as if he was looking for something beneath the surface.

"I... I went to see my father," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady, though my throat felt dry, my heart pounding in my chest. The room felt smaller all of a sudden, like the walls were closing in around me.

Raeland's eyes flickered for a brief second, a spark of something—maybe curiosity, maybe suspicion—but he quickly masked it. He nodded slowly, the smile on his face tightening, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"How is he?" His question was casual, too casual, and it stung with a dark irony. After all, he was the reason my father was lying bruised and battered in that hospital bed. I could still see the blood staining his bandages, hear the strained rasp of his voice.

"He's... fine," I lied, my voice barely above a whisper. I couldn't bring myself to tell Raeland the truth, not with him standing so close, his presence like a shadow over me. I shifted uneasily, my fingers curling into my palms as I fought the urge to take a step back.

Raeland studied me for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he could sense the turmoil churning beneath the surface. But he didn't push. Instead, he let out a soft hum, turning his gaze toward the staircase. The tension between us hung heavy in the air, like the unspoken words filling the space between us.