The Rose in the Dark

Prelude: Une rose cachée aux épines

(A Hidden Rose with Thorns)

There have been many theories about how she had been murdered. Some rumoured she was shot by a hostile gang and gruesomely bled out. Some others believed that she hung herself, the weight of expectations pulling/weighing her down. Others whispered that she was poisoned by her own family, fearing that she might take over their gang. Nonetheless, the bristling streets of Paris remained unchanged----where the deadliest gang thrived, with or without her. Nevertheless, no one knew the real reason why she died, or if she even was dead---let alone who she was. Instead, the public knew her as Lord Lavigne's daughter, and the competing heir to the Thorned Roses Gang. Whether those rumours were true or not wouldn't distract me along my journey of blood and bones.

The air was thick with tension as if the city itself was holding its breath in anticipation of the next move in the dangerous game of power. Shadows lingered on every corner, and the cobblestones seemed to echo with the whispers of secrets and betrayals. Amidst the bustling crowds, there was an undercurrent of fear and respect for the unseen forces that ruled the night. I dug my hands into my thick pockets, preventing my fingertips from freezing from the cold weather that came with late autumn. Dragging my feet along the crosswalk, I snuck my way through the crowded streets, hiding my face from prying eyes, my heart racing as I approached the secluded bar where I hoped to confront Author Lavigne—my worst nemesis. The bar radiated in mahogany and sapphire lights, reflecting off people's faces and the varnished furniture. Pacing my eyes around the room I spotted the bartenders in the back, serving drinks to customers. I paused, taking a moment to catch my breath and calm my erratic heartbeat. Gradually, I regained my composure and approached the bartenders. As I sneaked my way to the back of the bar, an army of eyes lurked upon me, each pair with its own opinions of me. I rolled my eyes, and covered my mouth, hoping no one would recognise me. Soon a bartender spotted me, as he polished a glass. He raised an eyebrow, his gaze flickering from my face to my strange 'running away from the paparazzi' attire, processing every detail. I forced myself to clear my throat and stood beside the bar counter, hoping that would catch his eye. Tapping on the wood, he finally paid caught on and walked towards me.

"Yes, ma'am?" he inquired. His voice sounded as gentle as silk but as bold as the colour red.

I cleared my throat again, trying to give him a subtle sign. He tilted his head and squinted his eyes. "Author Lavigne---" I murmured. He stepped back, his eyes widening.

"Sorry ma'am, I'm not involved with those people, nor do I want to be..." He stammered, almost dropping the glass.

I looked to my side before lifting my hand and revealing my face. "Tell me where Author Lavigne is now," I demanded. He froze in shock at seeing my face. Unconsciously he nodded in response.

"Yes, ma'am," he paused and looked to his side, peering down an isolated and dimly lit hallway. I covered my mouth and checked my surroundings to ensure that only he saw. He then turned his gaze back to me and forced a smile. "He'd be down that hall, in room 444," he revealed.

I nodded, before walking towards the hallway and searching for room 444. As I strolled down the hallway I spotted the room with the number plate 444. Finally. I freed a sigh of relief and grabbed the handle, slowly turning it and opening the door.

Soon, a familiar pale face appeared in front of me. His pink cheeks radiated in the dim room. Which was cloaked in a soft, ambient glow, with warm, golden light seeping from vintage sconces mounted on the walls. Alcoholic beverages crowded the table, alongside half-way finished glasses of whisky. Author slowly looked up as a beam of light cast over his head, highlighting his hazel hair. He squinted his eyes, trying to discern my figure. I glanced at the glasses of alcohol and then back at him, coming to a conclusion that he was intoxicated. I sucked my teeth and stepped into the room. Suddenly, his eyes widened and he jumped out of his seat, quickly sobering up as he placed his hands on his head. 

He stood in utter shock. "No," he gasped. "No, this can't be," his breath became jagged and heavy stabs to his throat. "How are you not dead?" The amount of fear immersed in him was present in his eyes. His hands clenched into fists but still trembled at the sight of my presence. 

A sinister smirk slowly formed and conquered my face, and every inch of vengeance boiled in my heart. "I bet you missed me?" a low chuckle slipped out in mockery of his stupidity.

He stepped back. "I thought you were dead," his voice failed to remain stable, as it quivered in the cold air. 

I shook my head, and a rush of dominance washed over me. All the memories of him attempting to kill me for the throne suddenly were meaningless----he was nothing but a mere stepping stone. For the first time, I knew exactly how it'd burn down in flames. My fingers curled around the grip of the pistol in my pocket, the weight of it grounding me. Author gulped, realizing his only option was to back away, even though he had nowhere left to run. 

I rolled my eyes and pursed my lips. ---"Yet here I am," I added, dropping the weight of my eyes, and glaring at him. "It's over Author," I declared, my voice snapped through the still air. "Your attempts, royalty----your life..." I paused, spotting him trying to sneak a dagger from his sleeve. Seriously... like that would stand against me. I couldn't help but sneer at him, the very sight of him trying to save his life, despite killing so many innocent lives tickled me. Nevertheless, I won't win in such a pitiful fight. No, I have my pride.

Without a trail, the Author threw the dagger at me. The blood-red dagger zapped through the air. The swift sounds of a bird soaring echoed in the room. I jolted to the side, not a single thought passing through my mind. I turned my gaze over to the side, watching the dagger stab the innocent wall and wavering from the force. I smirked. That was his last shot... I turned my gaze over to him. Author glanced at the dagger and then at me, his eyes beginning to water with turmoil and remorse. 

Without a trail of thought, I pulled my pistol and aimed. 

He raised his hands. A useless plea. His eyes trembled as they fixated on the gun aimed at his head. This is my chance. "The crowns mine now, Author..." I proclaimed, my siren eyes already taking shots at him. He gulped, the very thought of life after death was all he could think about/His face twisted in horror—he looked beyond, desperate to escape the end. Nevertheless, that didn't bother me one bit. The most spoiled child out of the Lavigne family deserved this kind of fate, the fate he brought onto many others for decades. It didn't matter if he was my younger brother or not, it was only by blood that I would be associated with him. Nothing less and nothing more, he was merely an heir of the Throne Rose, not someone I'd grieve for at the funeral. A single tear slipped from his eyes, as he shut his eyes closed. 

What a coward... 

I scoffed, subtle childhood memories of him and I tugged on my sleeve. The times we shared our joyful laughter when life wasn't about guns and thrones. When there was no stress over who ruled and who served. I shook my head, brushing them to the side. Tightening my grip on the pistol, I sighed. "Revoir, Author..." I hissed, before pulling on the trigger. Flinching at my own cruelty.

Then, Bang!

A bullet pierced through the cold air and struck his forehead. He rolled his eyes back and collapsed onto the cemented floor. The faint sound of his skull cracking quickly followed after his fall. My heart dropped, his weight pulling it down. It was for vengeance... he's attempted to kill me ever since I was 17. It's not like I'm in the wrong. I rolled my eyes, as the thought of needing to justify my actions sickened my stomach. I lowered my pistol and placed it back into my pocket. Only seven more heirs to go... 

Nevertheless, I let them think I'm a ghost, a legend, or even a worst nightmare made real. paving the perfect way for me to tear them down, one by one, from their blood, sweat and tears. 

The hunt has only just begun, and nothing will stand between me and the crown...