𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐎𝐍𝐄

SO IT BEGINS

“Dacre, si është puna jote?”

“Mirë, baba. Nuk ke pse shqetësohesh.”

Dad sat back in his chair, a cigar resting between two fingers, the smoke curling lazily upward. The terrace was quiet except for the low clink of ice in whiskey glasses, and the faint rustle of newspaper pages.

I stood near the railing with a drink in hand, watching the view.

“Roux became a hard-headed bastard.” I exhaled sharply. “It’s like every word I say is a spark to him. You give an order, he questions it. You show concern, he throws it back in your face. He’s spiraling, and I’m the one who has to keep things in place.”

Dad set the paper down, and folded it neatly, as he tapped ash off his cigar.

“Your brother always had a fuse. You just used to be better at dodging it.”

My fingers tightened around the glass. “He walked into my house like a stray dog with an attitude. Bleeding, defiant, and I’m supposed to pretend that’s normal?”

He let out a chuckle. “That’s exactly what you looked like the day I brought you back from the dock.”

I shot my dad a glare, but he only shrugged his shoulders.

“You forget a lot when you’re comfortable, Dacre.”

He met my gaze, calm and unaffected. “Figure out what he’s hiding, Dacre. Roux doesn’t shout when he’s scared — he sharpens his tongue, and when he’s scared and angry?” He raised a brow. “You know how dangerous he could be.”

I sat on the chair across from dad. “I don’t know Roux anymore.”

Dad took a drag from the cigar and exhaled slowly. “It’s time you find out who he’s become before he decides it for you.”

—

The air inside Demetrio’s laboratory was sharp with sterilized coolness and the faint, bitter tang of chemicals. Glass vials lined the walls with trophies, and strange machines blinked in quiet rhythm, casting pulses of red and blue across the polished steel counters.

He didn’t look up from the microscope when the door opened.

“I assume you’re not here to compliment my lab.”

I stepped in with a slow, almost careless gait, my hands in my pockets. “Thought you’d have added skulls by now.”

“I prefer things that can rot slowly.” Demetrio finally looked up, turning toward me. “So, are you here for the cure?”

“No.”

Demetrio’s brow arched, faint amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re not here for the one thing I made that she might actually need. Interesting.”

“I’m not interested.”

He moved, walking toward a shelf without breaking eye contact. “She didn’t ask for it either, did she?”

He took down a vial, turning it slowly between his fingers. “I didn’t expect you to come for her.” He set the vial down. “I did expect you to be smarter about it.”

My eyes narrowed. “If you’ve got something to say—”

“Only this.” Demetrio interrupted, his tone casual. “The line between love and obsession is thinner than a strand of DNA, especially for men like us. Men who were built in smoke, stitched from ambition.”

I didn’t flinch.

“You can’t protect her from everything, and I know you’ve been told that many times now.” He went on. “Not from you. Not from the truth. Definitely, not from what’s coming.”

“What’s coming?”

“You’ll know when it knocks.”

“I don’t need absolution.”

“I’m not offering it.” He flatly said. “Memory isn’t as obedient as we like to think. She may not remember what was done to her, but the body holds grief, instincts, and flashes. One crack in your perfect lie, and it will all start seeping through.”

“She’s alive. That’s all that matters now.”

“Alive.” Demetrio echoed. “She lives her days like this. A hollow frame wearing a memory you let me steal. Does she know who she is, or just who you want her to be, Salvadore? Does she know that before she became Mrs. Salvadore, she’s Ms. Hernandez first?”

“She’s better now, isn’t she? I gave her a new life.”

“Better for whom?” Demetrio asked, his head tilting slightly. “You remade her to fit beside you. You could’ve had me arrested back then, but you didn’t. I made an illicit substance, and Teagan was the perfect case study.”

My jaw twitched. He’s right.

“But you didn’t.” Demetrio continued, his voice low. “Not because you’re merciful, Salvadore. You’ll never be. You either saw the advantage, or you were afraid.”

Demetrio looked over his shoulder. “I wonder which one kept me out of prison.”

He moved closer, enough that the air between us was tense. “A face, a sound, a smell, and when that day comes...” He leaned in. “You’ll realize the thing you’re most afraid of isn’t me.”

—

“Thank you for coming, Teagan.” He said gently, his eyes searching mine. “I didn’t think you would.”

I didn’t respond right away. My gaze dropped to my cup. The silence between us wasn’t cold, just cautious.

“I owe you an apology.” He said after a beat. “For showing up the other night. Bleeding. Uninvited.”

I looked at him. “You looked like you had nowhere else to go.”

“I didn’t.” He admitted. “That’s still not an excuse though.”

I nodded, understanding everything Roux said.

He shifted slightly, glancing out the window. “I didn’t come today to explain what happened. I just... I wanted to apologize properly without blood on the floor.

A smile tugged at my mouth, almost reluctant. “I appreciate that, Roux.”

“Even if you don’t want to see me after that,” Roux added. “I still needed to say it.”

I looked at him for a moment, studying the exhaustion behind his eyes. Something passed between us — not absolution, but something close.

“You could’ve called.”

“I didn’t know if you’d pick up.”

This time, I didn’t answer, but I didn’t leave either.

—

A man in a navy suit, tucked into the shadows near the far wall. Drinking, but not speaking. Just watching. The crowd moved around him like he wasn’t there at all.

Our eyes locked. I didn’t move, but my chest tightened. The man tilted his head, the smallest motion, like recognition.

And then — gone.

My jaw clenched. I stepped awsy from the counter, reaching for my phone from my pocket.

The game you started will begin sooner than you think, Salvadore. The price? More than you can afford.

The screen dimmed, but I kept staring at my phone.

Teagan.

TO BE CONTINUED.