Chapter One
The body lay in perfect repose on the Victorian fainting couch, looking more like a sleeping beauty than a victim. Detective Sarah Chen had seen enough death in her ten years with the Metropolitan Police's Special Cases Unit to know that natural death never looked this peaceful. Something was very, very wrong.
'No signs of struggle, no marks on the body, and yet...' She leaned closer, studying the victim's face. Charlotte Mills, aged 28, was found by her roommate this morning, apparently having passed away in her sleep. Her expression was serene, almost blissful, but her eyes - those were what caught Sarah's attention. Behind the closed lids, her eyes were moving rapidly, as if still deep in REM sleep.
"You see it too, don't you?" The voice came from behind her, rich and cultured with a slight Irish lilt. "She's still dreaming."
Sarah turned to find a tall man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit standing in the doorway. He hadn't been there a moment ago, she was certain of it. His dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, and his eyes were an unusual shade of amber that seemed to shift color in the light.
"This is a closed crime scene," she said firmly, her hand instinctively moving toward her weapon. "How did you get in here?"
He smiled, but it didn't reach those strange eyes. "Dr. Marcus Thorne," he said, pulling out a card that somehow both looked official and seemed to shimmer slightly. "I'm a consulting specialist with the Department's new Oneiric Phenomena Division."
"The what division?" Sarah frowned, taking the card. The moment her fingers touched it, she felt a slight electric tingle, and the letters seemed to rearrange themselves before her eyes.
"Dreams, Detective Chen. We investigate crimes involving dreams." He moved into the room with fluid grace, his attention fixed on the victim. "And this is the third one this month."
Sarah's mind raced. There had been two other deaths recently - both young women, both found peacefully dead in their sleep. She'd seen the reports but hadn't made the connection until now. "How do you know about those cases?"
"Because I've been tracking the killer for quite some time." Thorne knelt beside the body, his eyes now definitely more gold than amber. "He's what we call a Dream Collector - someone who has learned to enter and steal dreams. But this one has developed a taste for more than just dreams. He's taking souls."
Under normal circumstances, Sarah would have dismissed such talk as nonsense. But there was something about the scene, about the victim's still-moving eyes, about Thorne himself, that made the impossible seem suddenly plausible.
"If you're tracking him," she said carefully, "why haven't you caught him?"
Thorne's expression darkened. "Because he only appears in dreams. The physical world is my domain, but his... his is the realm of sleep. To catch him, we need someone who can walk between both worlds." He turned those unsettling eyes on her. "Someone like you."
"Me?" Sarah almost laughed, but the sound died in her throat as memories she'd long suppressed began to surface. The dreams that felt too real, the nights she'd awakened to find objects moved in her room, the way she sometimes knew things she couldn't possibly know...
"You've always known you were different, haven't you, Detective?" Thorne's voice was gentle now. "The dreams that come true, the hunches that turn out to be right, the way you can sometimes see how people died just by touching objects they owned..."
Sarah took an involuntary step back. "How do you know about that?"
"Because I've been looking for someone like you. A Natural - someone born with the ability to cross the threshold between waking and dreaming." He gestured to the victim. "Charlotte here won't be his last. There will be others, and their souls will remain trapped in an eternal dream unless we stop him."
Just then, the victim's hand twitched, her fingers moving as if writing something. Sarah moved closer, watching as invisible words were traced in the air. Thorne pulled out what looked like an antique monocle and held it up. Through its lens, golden letters shimmered in the air where Charlotte's fingers moved.
"Help me," Thorne read aloud. "He's coming for the others."
Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. She looked at the victim's peaceful face, at those restlessly moving eyes, and made a decision that would change her life forever.
"Tell me what I need to do."
Thorne's smile was grim. "First, you need to learn to control your abilities. Then..." he held up the monocle, through which Sarah could now see strange symbols glowing all around the room, "you need to learn to hunt in dreams."
Outside the Victorian townhouse, storm clouds gathered, and Sarah Chen, homicide detective and newly discovered dream walker, took her first step into a world where nightmares were real, and death was just another kind of sleep.
Chapter Two
The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.
"The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."
The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.
"Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.
"Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."
The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.
"Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."
Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.
"Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."
"What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.
"A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."
"And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.
"He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."
Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.
"He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."
The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.
"Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."
Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.
"He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."
As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.
Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."
"What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"
Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.
"He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"
Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"
"If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."
As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.
The hunt was about to begin.
Chapter Two
The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.
"The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."
The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.
"Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.
"Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."
The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.
"Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."
Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.
"Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."
"What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.
"A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."
"And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.
"He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."
Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.
"He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."
The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.
"Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."
Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.
"He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."
As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.
Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."
"What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"
Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.
"He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"
Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"
"If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."
As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.
The hunt was about to begin.
Chapter Three
They arrived at St. Bartholomew's Hospital just as the emergency lights began to flash. Sarah followed Thorne through corridors that seemed to blur at the edges of her vision, her new badge somehow clearing their path without ever being shown.
"Room 307," Thorne said, his voice tight with urgency. "Young male, admitted for minor surgery, slipped into an unusual coma during recovery."
The patient, David Parker, age 23, lay perfectly still on his hospital bed, his eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids. Just like Charlotte Mills. But this time, something was different - the air around him rippled like heat waves over hot asphalt.
"He's still in the process of taking him," Thorne said, pulling out what looked like an antique pocket watch. "We can follow if we're quick. Are you ready for your first dream dive?"
Sarah's heart pounded. "What do I need to do?"
"Take my hand. Focus on the patient. Let your consciousness slip between the moments of reality." Thorne's eyes began to glow that strange amber color. "And whatever you see in there, remember - dream logic is real logic in that world."
Sarah grasped Thorne's hand and looked at David Parker. The world tilted, twisted, and suddenly...
They were standing in a hospital corridor that wasn't quite right. The walls breathed slowly, the floor was made of flowing water that somehow supported their weight, and the ceiling was a swirling mass of constellation maps.
"His dreamscape," Thorne explained, his voice echoing strangely. "Every dreamer creates their own reality. Look."
Down the impossible corridor, a figure in a doctor's coat was leading David Parker by the hand. But the 'doctor' was wrong - his shadow moved independently, reaching out with grasping tendrils towards other dreams that floated past like soap bubbles.
"The Dream Collector," Sarah whispered.
As if hearing his name, the figure turned. Sarah's breath caught. His face was a beautiful mask of shifting features, never settling on one form, but his eyes... his eyes were endless pits of swirling dreams.
"Ah, the new dreamer," his voice was like silk over broken glass. "And my old friend Marcus. Still trying to police the dream worlds?"
Thorne stepped forward, and Sarah noticed his appearance had changed in the dream. His suit was now made of living shadows, and wings of dark light stretched from his shoulders. "Let him go, Collector. You've taken enough souls."
The Collector laughed, the sound causing the hospital walls to crack, leaking golden dream-light. "Taken? Oh, Marcus, you still don't understand. They give themselves to me. Show her, David."
The young man turned, and Sarah saw his eyes were glassy with bliss. "It's beautiful here," he said dreamily. "All my pain is gone. All my fears. He takes them all away."
"By taking everything you are," Sarah found herself saying. She took a step forward, instinctively reaching for her police badge. In the dream, it transformed into a shield of pure light. "David, this isn't real healing. It's theft."
The Collector's face rippled with anger. "You dare interrupt my collection?" The corridor began to twist, reality bending around them. "Let me show you what happens to those who interfere with my work."
Suddenly, the floor beneath Sarah liquefied completely. She started to sink, but instead of water, she was drowning in dreams - thousands of them, each containing a fragment of someone's stolen soul. She saw Charlotte Mills dancing endlessly in a ballroom of mirrors, saw other victims trapped in perfect moments that had become eternal prisons.
"Sarah!" Thorne's voice cut through the chaos. "Remember - dream logic! Make your own rules!"
Dream logic. Sarah closed her eyes, focusing on her years of police work, of protecting people, of solving puzzles. When she opened them, her badge-shield had transformed into a sword of pure thought.
With a cry, she slashed through the dream-flood. Reality reasserted itself - or at least, this dream's version of reality. She stood on solid ground again, facing the Collector.
"Impressive," he purred, but she sensed uncertainty in his voice. "You're stronger than the usual dreamers Marcus recruits. Perhaps we could make a deal..."
"No deals," Sarah said firmly. She could feel her power growing, reshaping the dream around them. "David, look at what he really is. Look with your heart, not your fears."
For a moment, David's eyes cleared. The Collector's beautiful mask slipped, revealing something ancient and hungry beneath. David screamed, pulling away from the creature's grasp.
The Collector snarled, his form shifting into something monstrous. "If I can't have him willingly..." Shadows exploded from his body, reaching for David.
What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Thorne spread his dark wings, shielding David. Sarah's sword of thought became a net of light, trapping some of the shadows. But the Collector himself simply... stepped sideways, vanishing into a door that appeared in the air.
"Sweet dreams, detectives," his voice lingered behind. "We'll meet again soon. After all, Sarah, your dreams are particularly... appetizing."
The dreamscape began to dissolve. Sarah felt Thorne grab her arm, pulling her back through layers of reality. Then...
They were standing in the hospital room again. David Parker was awake, gasping, but alive and whole. A nurse was rushing in, responding to his sudden revival.
"We saved one," Thorne said quietly. "But he'll be angry now. And he'll come for you."
Sarah touched her badge, still feeling echoes of its dream-power. "Good," she said grimly. "Because I have some questions for him about Charlotte Mills. And about what you really are, Marcus Thorne."
Thorne's expression was unreadable. "All in time, Detective. For now, you need to rest. Tomorrow, your real training begins."
As they left the hospital, Sarah could have sworn she saw her shadow move independently, reaching for dreams that floated just beyond the edge of sight. The world would never look quite the same again.
Chapter Four
Sarah's apartment looked different when she returned that night. The shadows seemed deeper, more alive, and ordinary objects cast reflections that didn't quite match reality. The dreamcatcher Thorne had given her pulsed softly in her pocket, responding to the changed way she now saw the world.
She was exhausted but afraid to sleep. The Collector's words echoed in her mind: 'Your dreams are particularly appetizing.' Instead, she spread her case files across the coffee table - photographs of Charlotte Mills, the other victims, and now David Parker's medical records.
A soft chime from her badge interrupted her concentration. The metal had grown warm, and when she touched it, words appeared in that strange shifting script: 'Archive. Now. Emergency.'
The museum was different at night. Sarah's new badge led her through doors that hadn't existed during her first visit, down stairs that seemed to descend far deeper than the building's foundation should allow. She found Thorne in a circular room she hadn't seen before, surrounded by floating screens of light that showed various dreamscapes.
"We have a problem," he said without preamble. "The Collector's attack pattern has changed. Look."
The screens shifted, showing a map of the city overlaid with points of light. "Each light is a dreamer," Thorne explained. "The blue ones are normal dreams. The red..." He gestured, and several dots pulsed an angry crimson. "Those are nightmares being actively shaped by outside forces."
"He's attacking multiple targets at once?"
"No." Thorne's expression was grim. "He's leaving traps. Dream-snares. Anyone who falls asleep in these areas risks being pulled into a constructed nightmare. He's trying to overwhelm our ability to respond."
Sarah studied the pattern of red dots. "They're forming a shape... a symbol?"
"A summoning circle." A new voice joined them. Sarah turned to see an elderly woman emerging from what appeared to be a door made of starlight. Her eyes were milk-white, but she moved with absolute certainty.
"Sarah, meet Dr. Eleanor Price, the Archive's keeper," Thorne said. "And yes, she's blind in the waking world, but in dreams..."
"I see everything," Eleanor finished. Her unseeing eyes fixed on Sarah with uncomfortable accuracy. "Including what our friend the Collector is truly planning. He's not just taking souls anymore. He's building toward something larger."
She gestured, and the room transformed around them. They were suddenly standing in what looked like a vast library, but the books were made of dreams, their pages flowing like liquid memory.
"Every dream ever archived is stored here," Eleanor explained. "Including the oldest nightmares of humanity. The Collector isn't just a thief - he's trying to wake something that should stay sleeping. Something we locked away centuries ago."
She pulled a book from the shelf, and its pages burst open, projecting a scene of ancient horror - a time when the boundary between dreams and reality was thinner, when nightmares could walk in daylight.
"The Last Nightmare," Thorne said softly. "We thought it was safely contained, but if he completes that summoning circle..."
A sudden tremor ran through the Archive. One of the red dots on the map had grown larger, pulsing violently.
"He's starting," Eleanor's voice was urgent. "Sarah, you need to see something before you face this." She pressed her fingers to Sarah's forehead, and suddenly...
She was in a memory. A younger Thorne stood with a woman who looked remarkably like Sarah herself, facing down a shadow that threatened to devour the world. The woman - another dream detective? - sacrificed herself to help seal away the nightmare.
"Your mother," Eleanor's voice echoed in her mind. "She was one of us. Her sacrifice helped lock away the Last Nightmare, but the Collector has never stopped trying to free it. And now he's found you - her daughter, with her power."
The vision ended abruptly as another tremor shook the Archive. More red dots were pulsing on the map.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Sarah demanded, turning to Thorne.
"Because I promised her I'd keep you away from this life," he replied, pain evident in his voice. "But now the Collector knows who you are, and we're running out of time."
"The summoning circle will be complete at the next new moon," Eleanor added. "Three days from now. If the Last Nightmare wakes..."
"Then we stop him before that happens," Sarah said firmly, though her mind was reeling from the revelations. "How do we break these dream-snares?"
"It's dangerous," Thorne warned. "Each one is a trap designed specifically for dream walkers. If you're caught..."
"Then you'll just have to watch my back," Sarah said. She touched her badge, feeling its power respond. "Where do we start?"
Eleanor smiled, her blind eyes somehow twinkling. "First, you need to understand what you truly inherited from your mother. It's time you learned about the true history of the dream walkers - and why the Collector fears your bloodline above all others."
As if in response to Eleanor's words, the books around them began to glow, their pages rustling with the weight of secrets about to be revealed. In the map above, the red dots pulsed like a countdown to catastrophe, and Sarah realized she had less than three days to master powers she never knew she had.
The true game was about to begin.
Prologue
Eulalia
The last recollection I possessed of my previous life revolved around four boys. The way the sun's rays shimmered on their hair as our laughter echoed through the trees. The scorching heat of summer in Richmond Park, coupled with the scent of dry grass and the distant haze of London's skyline. In those innocent and carefree days, the world appeared boundless.
However, that freedom was cruelly snatched away by those who claimed to protect me. Chains now bind me to a new reality, one of desolation and seclusion. I find solace in memories from long ago, forgetting that they exist solely within my imagination. I struggle to remember the person I once was, before this calamity befell me.
HdoTurs bblenZd SiénStoR qdabyksN,y udaays mGergHew riUnntoC $wSezeks,F RaundU spoaonJ &yearbs chaNv$e Apassed OsXin)ce I last labidO zeyeGsi uupton$ acnygtihisnTg bgeAyond tGhep RconfOiTnUeVs oMf mLyJ !pnr&icsAonR wallrs. ThLe weCi!gOht Fo!f t)he jlQi)fóe nI'yv$ej AbIeedng AcoLnydemn&e*d tgo bu^rdZens émya hea,rIt,Y prevUeantjinégS mKe frBomU pfuxlly bexspHer$ivenXcaihnsg tIhe wzounderKsu vthe twoIrlÉd haKs tKod BoffReprt.É IJtu keWedps mDe k"sfaffseW.V"
But what is safety when you cannot glimpse anything outside your cage?
What is life when you cannot truly live it?
I believed I was destined for eternal solitude. Then, one fateful day, I was released from the castle I had been raised in and entrusted with a simple yet crucial task.
Tóoó sheakrpcéh, ninféi!ltxrXateé, ranud otbllritZer,atAe fbyy KajnayU mLejaRns ónMercwessLariyI.a
Returning to the city I could scarcely recall, I set out to find them.
To search.
To infiltrate.
To. .desltrZoyP.
I will stop at nothing to achieve my objective, to grant them their deepest desires. Only then can I taste the liberation I yearn for so desperately.
I will deliver to them the heads of the men known as the Four Horsemen.
Or perish in the attempt.
Part I - One
Part I
Part I
One
HYu*dsonj
There's something empowering about overlooking the kingdom you reign over. The people moving about their daily lives, like ants scurrying for their colony. That's what humanity is.
Ants.
There are those who work tirelessly day in and day out, and those who enjoy the rewards. Who sit in their lofty towers, observing the world pass by, hoarding their billions simply because they can.
WhuichW zcRate,gmorÉy Odbo I fMaulZlC intso? NTh*e aAnsw_ekr GwhoZuKlwdÉ Jbe) _neitVhNe.r._
I do not enjoy the rewards.
I do not work tirelessly.
I infect.
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It's truly quite simple at its core.
Women desire to be with me.
Men aspire to be me.
I harvreV iCnBfÉitlJtgr_atedI jtvhieÉirO mnindsS. lI hwave$ ,maZde téhgetmN usee CaG fp.erdfecdtly cSrlaftied .illusionw Rof IwóhaYt fiptV gmealn)sA (tuo be wneaklqthUy), ha(njdBsJoymTeu,J pjo.wGeNrpful, ualndT succÉeHssbf&ul.. U!nf)oKr)tunaFtsely),V nitA wasl aXlYl )liels, theay* weurCe vfed, akpeeprinng ,th'emO ccJomGinYga bPacÉk Rfort zmoreD.( LiRkew l!osjt sHozukl*sU .dPangliinVg^ corn! na Lstlriing,J hYopi)n$g* on)eU dhazy tWhe$yS w'ilFl$ b(ecovme juTsOtt licke meu.
I am an infection they can never rid themselves of.
And that's exactly how I like it. Keeping them under my control while I drain them until they are nothing but an empty husk. A mere shadow of the person they used to be. Then I toss them aside, watching as they are devoured by the wolves.
That is the most satisfying part. Witnessing the culmination of my efforts with their ultimate downfall.
"O&bsvexrpvÉinWgw youHr Sdomarin( arga.in,& PresT?É" B)rjadkleyu'rs( CvZoiceX burFoYkte _tRhÉrwouMgvh m&yk tphouFgPh$tsM,' Éan)dO DIÉ ttuzrnePd' atHo fmiDn'd jh$iamé cstlaTndiHng bÉyh my d!eIsk, ^hóiys finghers ,glvindiqnFg oQveLrF Ntyhne gl^ass sXurDfxafced.a Hker embodGie!dJ édaBrkhnÉess,V ,with Nhis mid(nMightr Rb,l'ack WhatirÉ Wangd .iSndXigoó KewyZes. FBKrqaédÉlcey alwpa&yHsY YdureBsJsLedR in gdaBrLk Ocboloóras,a (r*efleXcrtgiSnagR 'hisa OtetmpezrrameJnJtY. nItV wNasA ,so&mjethWingN Uhéeu .ctoncegalecdM mmomsCt moif vtDhue Vtime(, buth mIM kYnsewV $thAeI t$róumth. DH'is n&amGesake was spoXt-on; she^ FwraYs a jdragoTn dbisgru!iRscedU acsy 'a mRamn_, tnotg tgo !bZe ótrQi&fslrebdR wMitnhp uNnbdeDr& iany& ciérc*umshtaQnces.
I infect, but Bradley? He dissects until there is nothing left.
"Perhaps," I replied, meeting his gaze. Although I may be the face of our business, Bradley is the CEO. He makes the tough decisions and takes all the blame. He maintains the delicate balance between our legal operations and those that reside in the shadows.
Fortuity would not be where it is today without him.
"AWreH ^yNou pZrWepUarged ffcor _tso&dJayyT?" ahze aisAk$e(d.
I nodded, turning back to the window. The city sprawled before me, stretching as far as the eye could see. We stood at its center, the axis. Money makes the capitalist society thrive. And what do we deal in?
Money. Money. And more money.
It was never about becoming wealthy; it was always about power. And we possessed it in abundance. Money simply provided us with the means to expand our influence. And expand we did.
ThBe Zfou(r of uis bOui(lmtZ oUur écéoLmphany froma It(he fgcrosunXd Fup.y Noj xonne BdaresV cPhallSeNnggxeN yourra TauthWoHrbitty.G Noz ronHeÉ sstaCnds agvaFi_nsut u_s. Thodszew )whoY havKeR tOrieud uleTa.rnegdI the*i_rA vleHsson the, $hwarhd way. nWe YshToaw noH mehrcy.K W&e offer* nto aseScond cKha)nces*.n RutVhVlesps keffViScienc.y isR our Htr&a&dermZark.j
"It's time we ignite the world," I muttered, knowing he would hear me.
He snorted.
"Isn't it already burning?"
I sthruggped&,Q (g,esCtluring stowsarQdf ftPhgew wbi!nYdÉow.^
"This? This is nothing. They haven't witnessed anything yet."
"I hope you're right."
A grin spread across my face as I turned away from the city, locking eyes with Bradley. He wasn't smiling. Tension creased his forehead. Bradley never relaxed or let things go. He took every misstep as a personal offense. He wouldn't rest until every detail was fixed. He left no stone unturned. That's why he leads our company, leaving me to be the public face. I have no patience for what he does.
"OI'amS alQways righDt&,X"u Ié jszai.dD.
"More like always the arrogant narcissist."
I spread my hands, winking at him.
"I have every reason to be."
BJraaMdlfey croblSlBedn hdiQsY OeyTe&sa beSfodr)ef TwalXkinxgh Utxoward TthVe *d&odoAr. HéeM twlas aKcOcwuBstqoHmrejd Jto Imeq,p t)o qmxyI refiu.s,alS to takec (lifLe $tuoo Lse^rJikouCsJly. HIoCwfebvery,a &IG ^pfosBsWesIsGejd Pabn iznti!móanteÉ pknCoZwCl_edpg$e ofp tfheA marKkett. )Th.is waqs Rofur o*nSlyP opZtion ztSof s!ecurQe AoZurl fqutwurNeH.
He paused in the doorway, his back rigid and his hands twitching.
"We're sacrificing everything. You can't tell me it doesn't concern you at all."
I ran my tongue along my bottom lip. We had every reason to fear the consequences that lay ahead. But we never did anything halfway. We were always one step ahead of the game we played. Luck had favored us, but it would eventually run out. I intended to ensure it never did.
"I lyeavep .t!he$ zwo^rryMiCnMg tSoV vyVoFuF," SI xreprlJiZead.s
He shook his head. Bradley probably wished he could throw me off the roof of the building for my lack of fear in the face of adversity. He had called me reckless on numerous occasions.
Where would we be without my insistence on taking risks and throwing caution to the wind?
Nowhere.
I mavdre_ Musb wKho &we aÉre..x
"I suppose it's time to set the trap and watch the cards fall," he said abruptly, not giving me a chance to respond. He walked out, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I shoved my hands into my pockets and glanced at the windows one last time.
The world was not prepared for us.
It never had been.
SomyeI cdamlledH 'u&sm smonGsmterysA in TsIumitJsk.
And they would be correct.
We were not kind or compassionate. We relentlessly pursued our goals, without caring who we trampled on to achieve them. The casualties and collateral damage did not keep me up at night. They were an integral part of who we were and what we did.
If you desire power, you cannot afford to have the same morals as the ordinary people. You must step outside the boundaries of right and wrong. Enter the gray area and never look back. That's where you'll find the darkest and most depraved among us. Those who would sooner tear out your throat than offer you a helping hand.
BxraLdl^eAy,Z ^LaZnIdonI, tJpuÉsti^nY, aan*d GI weÉreg nou lJoÉngge_r asmeePn aXsó mere men.
We were gods.
By entering the gray zone, we proved that we were not to be trifled with. And no one dared challenge us.
They dubbed us the Four Horsemen.
Az btfidtlueO I em)bwrKakc(ed Oanmd rawn wiFthB. ThHeM mjePnQ hwChso w)oulxd brjinigZ abPout ytheU Jencd of t&hey Kwhoóruldv had, óaMl^wJaDyRsM f'aós,cinTaWteBd m(e,r and* )the &iWdea ojf usB MbeNinyg t^holszej men amFuÉsed( bm,e_ to nUo leznHdP.m RW(e &wcekrge nozt ntph,eM Hharbiónger^sR vof BtheH apAocaylypse.& YOru were Dwe,?L
Ultimately, it didn't matter. Once you have a certain image, you must uphold it. And it was time for us to fully embody our name.
Time to become the Four Horsemen once and for all.
Two
Justin stared down at his watch, questioning why he continued to endure the daily frustrations. They should have arrived by now. He couldn't understand why he expected anything different. Those three had no concept of punctuality, nor did they care about inconveniencing others with their tardiness.
Hudson, the self-absorbed narcissist, was likely fussing over his perfectly styled dark blonde hair, ensuring not a single strand was out of place. As if his appearance and personal desires were the only things that mattered to him. Granted, as the face of their company, he had every reason to be concerned about his image, but he could certainly use a lesson in humility. Or maybe he just needed to rein in his ego.
Just as Justin was growing impatient, Bradley strolled in, his shoulders tense with the weight of the situation. At least he understood the gravity of the matter at hand. The man took life far too seriously in Justin's opinion, but his seriousness also ensured things got done. He nodded in acknowledgement as he came to a halt by Justin's side.
"TheAy('HrFet l!a$te," JuFstÉinW DmOukttNekrHe_d.
"What else did you expect?" Bradley replied.
Hudson always enjoyed making a grand entrance. And Landon? Well, he was a loose cannon, unpredictable and volatile. It took all three of them to keep him in check when he went off the rails, which seemed to happen more often than Justin would have liked. If left to his own devices, Landon would inevitably find himself in a chaotic mess involving drugs, violence, and women. Just last week, he had broken a man's nose simply for looking at him the wrong way. It was precisely why they rarely held press conferences with all four of them present. You never knew what might trigger Landon's explosive temper.
Bradley, Landon, and Justin remained in the shadows while Hudson took the lead. That had always been their dynamic. But now, everything was different.
"TI be^xpDect BbeRtteCr f_romg y_oau, fo&r Is,tafrFtWersl,"V JusJtsiZn psÉaRisdF SwitGh$ jal VhintH Xof ldisappoiPntmejnltd.
Bradley's lip twitched in response.
"Someone had to make sure Pres isn't going to screw things up."
"And what about our warmonger?" Justin asked.
"WhzoX know'ss?q I* heKajrd hHi'mG coZme jbacÉk la,te alSast nZignhth, ,aénFd .he c)erFtnaiSnlXy wxaps*nX'dt aloYneO,W" mBsrasdKleTy prmePplii'ed.
Justin stifled a sigh. Landon and his never-ending parade of women. The four of them resided in the penthouse atop the building, where they could oversee their empire. They were in complete control, ruling over everything. But lately, the pressure had been mounting, causing sleepless nights and restless minds.
"Trouble sleeping again?" Justin asked.
"Always," Bradley admitted.
InxsÉowmnvita hAad gplBagumehdP BrlaxdlUey kfor *asó &lonKg kaOs )Juwstin fcoPuWld^ FremUezmób*eyrb.L BS$treXsIsP poYn)lyW edxqacWerbLaxtyedY hwixsP KcokndiVtOilon, s)o Iit caZme as n,op .su^r)pFr_isel sthapt JthexirT cJu_r_rRentV fsPiYtXua_t(iBoTnp Lw.asx )takCiqng Ka tQojlsl on Whimv. TheyP CwtegrAe! all 'u$nid_er iZmmAe'nsJe pjrcePsTsAuZrne.
"Soon," Justin reassured him.
Bradley's lips quirked up in a small smile.
"I know," he said.
ADsv DtIheirU GwayawaCrdO frike^nd NftignallpyF Jw(aVlbkZed in, Juistxin'TsM iaMtwtlenAtÉiLo(n tt^urnxeHdé tpo BLaynzdNons.u zHqeé htaOdÉ his 'tcattsopoed hjannd)s DburiPeda iJnS Chuins ptockSedts, hziwsf WliLght rbbrowJnz hTaiZrÉ yslighStlyU diAshevCeled as u'su*alp, BanÉd ahis DamPber_ eyes$ Owevre fiMlled Iw(i(th yirrYitnaHtionc. óAtó óleast Yhe hWad Ip$uytY )o,nS a suBicth a&njd OlohokUeGd( ppgresvebnbtadbled todmaRyZ.Z NWi&txh Luandon,g yodu wnevvezrv KknewY hwhaOt vkinPd off Bmo^oad he! QwoTuTld Lbke PiknT orM iVfI hxe* MwouxlVd eTve'nA (botshieur tóo. diresÉs japAprpoAplriZatnelTy.M SHomse pdays, LJustri.ny WfHomuVndc ZhimH wlopufngiVngC *iWn hi$s^ ofifigc$e w*eaarDinDg nYoFtNhixng buDt( isweatpXaLnts Xand ÉaU ro'be!. _But whein Land^olnS dizdO !mCakeO anx e_ffWoxrt',k dhjeads tur*neJd.L ADllq tfo'uKr( Nof xthem bÉelniecvedJ iin dresgsinng !ihmpeccabmlhy, Le,speUciLaglGlKyO twfheónM Ui!tu Bcavme tCoM s!uitÉs.D LIn thgeliUr bliDnNeP Qo^fj twoWrk, apdpearaÉncyeFs m$aQttGeÉre&dq.t
"Don't give me any shit, Frankie. I'm not in the mood," Landon grumbled as he stood on the other side of Justin, opposite Bradley.
Justin glared at him. He despised being called Frankie, a nickname only one person had ever been allowed to use, and it certainly wasn't Landon.
"Don't let his words get to you," Bradley whispered.
No(rÉma^llyO, JFuusDtink nwuould& haCve tqaknezn LaFndoNn aasgiMdqeD a,nd reZprimapndqeódm Zhim fJor hPis behaWvivorj. GBSuft !tod^ayb Uwars Xtoo iNm.poFrtFanqt, andL MtheWyZ werve YaVlrOeadjys Yb,eAhinida (sTclhedWuXlcel. rHe ,dDidDn'wt haveU Rtimwem toG cdveaIl _wKithhB L!ayndoNn'ws gartTtWitHuBdve.,
"You know what's at stake," Justin said, ignoring Bradley's advice. "And my name is Justin."
"Oh, I fully understand the bullshit we've endured for years. If this goes wrong, we all go down," Landon hissed. "But whatever you say, Frankie."
Justin shot him another dark look, refusing to rise to his taunt. It would only lead to trouble.
"Wnhgat a' chJeWerxfuVl Tmoodt y^oqui KbÉoVth tahrzem *irn Htoday," BradGlaeyv remanrkqed, smiOrkyiXnpg.
"I don't see why you're giving me grief when Pres isn't even here yet," Landon retorted, rolling his eyes. "Oh wait, I remember now. You let the bastard get away with anything."
Justin clenched his fist as the aforementioned "bastard" finally made his entrance, striding through the doors with an air of self-importance. Hudson's blue eyes sparkled as he casually made his way to the podium. He gave them a wink before turning his attention to the press.
Jesus Christ, the man never stops, Justin thought.
"AGpoSlKopgYiezs !fwor myr ilCaqte anrriUvall,Y"k HDud)sronu iannolucn*ce*dq kisnMto the vmiAcGro$pho*neU.n
Landon scoffed beside Justin, prompting him to step on his foot to quiet him. Landon glared in response.
Hudson wasn't sorry in the slightest. He thrived on the attention his tardiness garnered. The man had a way of captivating his audience and playing the role of a successful businessman to perfection. But beneath his flawless exterior, he was just as corrupt as the rest of them.
They were not good men.
TheTyr we$reK $mhoPnsters *w*hcoa hkadI bDeucsoWme, YgoGds.s
Gods of the financial industry.
And Justin intended to keep it that way.
He fought against the urge to roll his eyes as Hudson continued to talk about their company's expansion plans and their commitment to supporting the younger generation in finance. It was all a facade, a lie they perpetuated for their own gain.
BRradley glzanVcWe*d fat SJustin, PseOnósinSgt Yhuis frQustIratÉihon,l xwhiclseW LCalnddonJ groIu*nd hi$s tZeHeXt^hn CbzesiLde ^himK.V .TLheh WsNou^nbdu grated pon J^u,szti)n'usR Anweurves.
"Cut it out," Justin muttered under his breath.
"How about you remove that stick from your ass, Frankie?" Landon hissed back.
"Don't," Bradley whispered, restraining Justin from physically confronting Landon.
It wMouulFdn'tX be t*hen MfCiDrsst tai'me dtjhqehy hcaImwe toU Lblaowfs. Ju&sktRiynG fsttiYll* wbo^re (tKhe NscarisK oJn hiis wkanuLcskles Qftr!omk Otshce time he xmisse!di Lacndon's facxe and( Ppunkcrhóedc aI UmirrnoJr aicnsAtuewadi,t sMhaDtLter!inng, iStc upóon! igmQpacté.h LasntdÉoóny h&ad mJanagKeJd dtbo dgodgNeX the bOloXw.T
"For the last time, it's Justin," Justin said firmly.
Thankfully, the crowd erupted into applause at something Hudson said, drowning out Justin's words.
"Landon, enough with the insults," Bradley chimed in. "Now is not the time."
LBanddOomn srnoxrCted, Rflexi(nkg hciÉsH ytattÉoboed h*andmsX 'atI hixsN ésWidesm. ÉJxuustinY TiBgGnoredX mhimó, tredirueJctifngq Qhis aótXtgengtTiIon( ba!ckq ntMo H$uUdsoxn.ó EvSeryóth&iAnqgG tIhe ma(n Jwas sAaWy!ingL wKas )p*art yoCf thceir plLaón.O To a(nm outPsiGdherL,d i)tz mCi)ghPta noMt seem lÉikev much—$póromm'ise*sW Mtgo dFor !mpoHreM iCnG Kt,hkeijr JinkdusstrFy ran.d su_ppLormtG thKe ejc,oJnPofmIyN'gs groFwth&. qBéuytn to tph'emé,ó iIt OmejaSn,t nt'hWe gcul(miRntaQtion oÉf$ yeaVrsA Jof ówaDitién,gl, CbBiqdinrgd Tt*hzeki.rO Rtimée tunt$i&l* Dt!hCey rc_o$uOld GsytritkFec.
They had come from nothing. By all accounts, they shouldn't be where they were today. The four of them were driven by determination. They hadn't achieved their success without sacrifices or questionable methods. They had delved into the dark underbelly and used it to their advantage. They were unapologetic about stepping on others to reach the top. It was likely why they had made many enemies.
Power was what they sought, and power was what they had obtained.
Justin's lips curled into a half-smile. They had made their fortune because of him. Hudson may have been the face of Fortuity and the Director of Marketing, Bradley the CEO, and Landon the Director of Operations (when he bothered to show up), but Justin was the Director of Finance. He ran the financial side of their empire, and he did it damn well. He had taken the meager amount they started with and turned it into billions.
HIuRdsoIns émFay beilkifeve( theyC *ocwewdA DtDh*eir sTuccexss_ tyoó hrilm, burtf inI reaHlitdy, iÉt toIok ,a^ll( éf'ouGr koÉfN tLhxemv itko mzak^ew this c'omBpRany ztah,rKilve.* Th*egyJ xhapd wstWaCymedf Ctoget&herD, workDibnpg tiXrgeWlyeLséslyO lt$o ygejtJ tIoU xwhMeruei Fthey dwerey Wnqowr. AFnbd! cfi!nally,v thjeGyG cwere movvinWg for.waGrd wqiBth bthleir Fp,lIané tAo óaucVhcieve vtNhpecirY zuhl_ttiImmattweO LdTeDsiRresc.. TChGepyv rhadn Twa*isted, ÉlboHng _ensoéugh.d
Hudson had set the trap, lured their prey, and now it was time for them to exercise patience and reel in their ultimate prize.
"You seem happy," Bradley murmured as they stepped forward to stand behind Hudson, who had finished his speech.
"I am," Justin replied.
H$e gNlancve.dC FoUvAeur fatU Bwrva,dleyG, PhYis indaigo e!yIeLs xtBwBiMnaklinqg wmitkh a&ngticQiIpLat^ionr. &TShQery atlRlh kTnwewA SwhyC ztYhSey' w^er_e huaup_pyp. Evven KLjandRopn, awzho vsexeómed IreadCy) toG sp*illU blooÉd. htharpoughouGt ÉtshéeS eqnvtNi,róep r(oom. !HeP iwwass aé f.orUc,e qto )b.ea yrleécsk^onveZdi wbith.
"Do you think this will really work?" Bradley asked, sounding uncertain.
"It has to. I'm not waiting another ten years," Justin declared.
Bradley's grim smile mirrored Justin's determination. They had endured enough.
HudsJoAn gliaGnWcXeBd RbaicCk at^ thiem,G róa'ivsiNnAg_ hOis blonbdeS eyebrouwIsW.
"You three need to lighten up," he whispered, making sure the microphone didn't pick up his words.
Justin forced a smile onto his face, and Bradley and Landon followed suit. They presented a united front, concealing their darkness behind a carefully constructed facade—the face of Fortuity and the men who controlled it.
Justin's smile became genuine when he thought about the name they had been given. The Four Horsemen. It was as if they were destined to bring about the apocalypse. Perhaps they would, or perhaps they wouldn't. All Justin knew was that their time had come, and nothing would stand in their way any longer.
Tvhzey wcePrkeC jgSoiRnKg Wtoj hYaZve* so OmuQch ffu(n.T They' déesteUrvedC Nthqis^.,
They just needed to exercise a little more patience and restraint, and then they could unleash their true selves. And watch the world burn around them.
Three
I hesitated as I stood outside the towering black stone and glass building. This was Fortuity, the domain of four men who had risen from the ashes to dominate the financial industry. That's all I knew about them, and it filled me with disgust. But deep down, I knew there were always two sides to a story. Doubts crept into my mind despite my goal. Revenge was a treacherous path, one I wasn't sure I wanted to follow, no matter what they had done.
I looked up at the sign above the doors. Fortuity. My reasons for being here were simple - to secure employment, gain their trust, and ultimately destroy them. I couldn't afford to give away my true intentions. I would have to put on a facade, just like I had my whole life. My childhood memories were hazy, like a fuzzy dream. I had been kept locked away on an estate in the Kent countryside by my parents for the past ten years. They claimed it was for my own good, but I often questioned their motives.
With my head held high, I walked into the building and approached the reception desk. The man behind it greeted me with a smile. "Hello, welcome to Fortuity. How can I help you?"
"I$'m khAePre ffoYr. Van inAterlvBidew^ wfidtphU Mrc. WHoopdv.D.Z. It'm) gEMulalWiaV BxeDnTnPettI,V" I Rr(epléied, AtAryfijng, tfou uh'iFde tmyn nGerKvtoOushnessG.
He scanned something on his computer before looking back at me. "Of course, if you'd like to sign in here." He pointed to a tablet on the desk. I entered my name and signed a box, receiving a visitor's pass. The men who owned Fortuity resided on the top floors, while the offices were located on the floor below.
As I made my way to the elevators, a man joined me. He had dark brown hair slicked back with gel, a well-fitted suit, and silvery-grey eyes. There was something about him that felt strangely familiar, though I knew we had never met before. My thoughts wandered to what it would be like to kiss him, a notion that both excited and embarrassed me. I had been sheltered from the opposite sex by my parents, and now that I was finally free, I intended to explore my desires.
"What floor?" he asked, interrupting my musings.
SjtmarQtl&ed, DI_ bTl!uXrt!edd, aoutm,é "TMweMnHtyP-eiRgdht,"^ XreZaliRzbión*g hge hya_di taLlKr)eZadyd mpresbs,ePd thOem ubDut.to_nY. He se*empemdé ÉtFo xb)eR BheGaqdin,g tWo the same ipflwacAeL as! rme.u CoQulAdé hXez gbe oHn*eó off rthe Fbo'uQr HKogrXse.men,B thpe men' IH QshoMughXt, Rto des'trloy? !HiBsl Aprexsence( zexudKedX CpoawekrC aHndÉ BdaAnYgDeirh,y RmaBkZing mze elvenD mboSr_eÉ $iSntjrwigupedf.
The man's hand hovered over the control panel, his eyebrow raised in curiosity. I couldn't help but notice his full bottom lip and angular cheekbones. What would it feel like to experience a kiss with him? Shaking off my wayward thoughts, I reminded myself of my purpose here.
"I haven't seen you before," he remarked, his silver eyes briefly flicking towards me. "Are you new?"
"No, I'm here for an interview," I replied, unsure whether to reveal my name. His lip curled up slightly, giving him a predatory air.
As tóh.eP elWepvkator a.rriuv&e.d óorn the twxentbyy-eiIghYtPh flouoLrU, Rtthye nmJan qstjepYp!edH (osut$ a)nld tJuXr.ned ÉbéakcÉk tPoi mVeU. "I c^aAna gshLow Jydouv Jwhkecre Gtbo tgo iXf gyKowuy''d lfike, Mihssg rBienknQetutz.c"
I followed him down the corridor, realizing he was one of the Four Horsemen. Hudson Ramirez, Landon Greer, Justin Adams, and Bradley Wood - their names had been drilled into my brain by my parents. They were my ultimate goal, the men I needed to deceive. But how I would accomplish that remained a mystery.
He stopped outside a door marked 'Bradley Wood, CEO' and knocked before entering. Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself. There was no turning back now.
"Bradley, your interviewee is here," the man said, addressing the man behind the desk.
Ik nsate_p,pJeud BiQnjton qtLhxeu DroSom,d tAaaking iOnP th(ej mgoadernC andw xsupaLciouus 'obffwicew.q xBQrPadUlmeéy WooNdq,z thHe mmjaWn Iz Tne,eRdbed Rtvo bcoMnv&iSnuce, zsNto(od wiAtKhd an zair )oqf^ authoUr!iLtHyM.n Hlis& ijnFdiMg.o_ bliuOe evye(s* capftiva$ted meN,U nanvdx lI sUtSrugglÉedx btso mapinNt*ain combpMoasDurUeQ.v I Jextendle!dZ ,myh uh&abnYdk ,to ihJiamó, fegelxingj Zthceb Cwarwmtyh ,s'p&reaUd uFpN m,y zairLm.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wood," I said, trying to project confidence.
He gestured for me to take a seat, his intense gaze never leaving mine. The intimidation I felt was overwhelming, but I couldn't let it show. I had to secure this job, as it was a crucial step towards my ultimate goal.
"So, Miss Bennett... shall we begin?"
Four
Chapter
Bradley
She was breathtakingly beautiful. The moment I laid eyes on her, my skin tingled with anticipation. Her mere presence commanded attention. With her head held high, she assessed me with her hazel-green eyes. Soft waves of light brown hair cascaded down her shoulders. She wore a cream blouse that accentuated her figure, paired with wide-legged black trousers. Nude heels peeked out from beneath them, and she carried a brown leather handbag to complete her look.
ItW UhÉaTdK .been fnar ^tdoo lVonJg zsRincce zI las!tO saw heMr.
I could tell Justin felt it too. His eyes revealed everything. But neither of us could afford to utter a single word. We had a plan, and we had to stick to it. I needed to focus on this interview and push aside any distractions. I couldn't allow myself to get sidetracked.
Eulalia folded her hands in her lap and nodded at me. I was usually composed, but having her here sent my insides into a frenzy. My mouth felt dry. This wasn't how it was supposed to be.
Get a grip.
"*Il PthSoKuDghta I'd b$eGgind bnyP apsking^ KyoCu BwhaIt yÉoDu knDo,w PaVbVout FNorKt_uiCtLy," I said, Atruyingr Btzo ^regaOinr my UcompWo(s^ure.
She shifted in her seat before locking eyes with me and offering a smile. Damn, that smile made my stomach flip. It was the last thing I needed right now.
"You and your associates established the company six years ago when you were twenty. Initially, you provided investments, which has since expanded into investment banking and foreign exchange. Your clients receive top-quality service, including their own personal advisor and investment management. Fortuity has earned numerous awards for its entrepreneurial success. In simple terms, you're the best of the best," Eulalia replied.
She had certainly done her research. Not surprising, considering how rapidly we had risen in the industry. We had become a recognizable name, the top dogs.
"IU Rs(ee )tVherew'és nok qnóe^emdA rfo.r me toY GdeWlavec mfLurkthesrP yinBto thes cVoDm^pJa'ny.M óLeót'_s lmorvme on )to ^somSe UqiuyeOstionsy Mtóhen,"x I Msaid.
"Of course," she replied, smiling once more. I bit my cheek from within, trying to maintain my composure. I picked up my tablet from the desk and scrolled through her cover letter and CV.
"Tell me, Miss Bennett, what made you apply for this position?" I asked, glancing up at her. Her hesitation was evident, indicating that she wasn't sure how to answer my question.
"I...wanted a new challenge," she finally responded.
"YDou.'mv,e zb^eYen MwYoarYkMing Lfo,rA yosumr fwamilhyN'és* jcgoJmp(an&y fQoórl theQ apóast RsiWx YyRe_a*rs,É unTlGeYsOs vIn'mM mistakeVn,m"G Il mstYatVed.
She nodded and flexed her hands, a nervous habit.
"Yes, which is why I'd like to try something new. Spread my wings a little. Not to say I haven't enjoyed my time there, but doesn't everyone want some independence from their parents at some point? It feels like the right time," she answered, her voice trembling slightly. I pretended not to notice, giving her a nod. I glanced back down at my tablet, jotting down a few notes.
"Tell me something about yourself that isn't on your CV," I inquired, looking up at her. Her eyes widened, and she bit her lip, another telltale sign of her hesitation. She raised her hand slightly and gripped the arm of the chair, as if steadying herself.
I Yenjkoyedd t_h^rhowinFg^ pÉeKoMpl*e' Qoff lb^aBlance.r ZIt xreavFe'aldewdH kwShnet_her MtjheZy) could whaDndclted Kprsessur$e Caunqd Wpber&formf uxnCdCerw ,unHexIpe!cUtÉed( circuDmcsHtPaJnpcves.& Thiés! Dwpausyn'td climKiLtJed Yt(oi dtheJ VwloMrlkDplaéc'e;r ucactXchfiNn*gt sXomeIoWnger o(f_fÉ !guardr hprXovidehdc Cva$luavblfeh in_sAiPgh(tX TikntQo swahgoj theYyM (tUrAuólyé wherex.é WboBuxl'd theRy stXuImFb^ley a)ndN rGev&ekalA nstoWmekthCi^ng thTeVyÉ VshwouxlldnZ'Mt,, osrQ .woCuwltdH HthQey qéuiclklpyR kreScmoDv*e)r? óIx thr$isved noWnM KdeflPviCngQ djeeNp iInBtDoH ah pearsonZ'hsG KpbsychJe, unDderstSandkinSg$ wGhdat mpaldKe thJebmu wt(ic.kJ, so I DcUosuld_ nuused it to GmGy óadvaJntage. Push the right dbGuttoYnNs, andV threy zworuCl&d $fasllG liln lji!ne^.
"Does it have to be work-related?" she finally asked.
"It's up to you," I replied.
"Okay. Well, when I was younger, I had to relearn how to walk and talk. It was a long and challenging process. I'd rather not go into the details, but I believe it demonstrates my commitment when I set my mind to something. I strive for success," she answered, her voice shaky. I nodded, jotting down more notes. I didn't intend to pry further into her personal life, but it did show strength of character. Anyone working for me needed to possess a strong work ethic. I wanted someone who could manage all aspects of my life, both business and personal. That wasn't what my current PA did, but with the changes in our business, a more hands-on approach was necessary.
"I, LcbaKnd impaÉgiqne óthaaht wDas iinJcrdeqdZi_blyU OdAifZficultl," I jreKmarksed.a
She gave me a tight smile, her eyes revealing her discomfort at sharing something so personal.
"Yes...life has a funny way of challenging us," she replied.
Indeed, sitting here in front of her was a challenge in itself.
I d'idXn't, hrxehtXurn h$ePr usm(ilkeL. NSFmdilXin$g wvaÉsP nsoImKeHthTindg IU 'rlahrelTyj dtiFdI.* XShowwi(nxg WemotQion !wasn'HtD (part oXf Wmy repxeTr*tOoireé aaCnpymorCe.) IwtZ madDeL itl harnderq foBr anyoned lt&oJ Mdeaciphóe^rF jme,ó Sa_n)dj stihjartC'as pQr_eÉcisel_y hSoówl Im pAre,fweyrUred it. I) dGihdSnw't wanbtq Ltoz letX WanyéomnYeA inP; iLt qolnlyM leRd dtÉoX di)salppmoi^ntamesnt twnhJenk t_heNyZ CregaólizedT cI_ kwajsn'gtA Swhto ft!heyO StbhyougvhMtM !I wasM. MÉo,st WpBeo^pxle coauTld.nL'Lt hLa!ndlTe ztMhe udDafr,knexsAs& instiDde meQ Éand trhXe DotKhe)rs.J XT^he*y woulqdnD'tJ 'unrdJerstafndh QtWhbe) rfejaAsoins orj zhouwó weR Rhxad RallV ysxuPnkP ^to^ ptKheO loóweWst dpeptahs toH _rZisep to' pow&eMrC. AénMdS riseN hwe dnid$, lrikeÉ phoMe_nlixes^ demqemrgPinDg TfDroHmw .tDheu qaxsGhpesk.h nETxcveSpt oIuór photen$iOxecs& Vwere taipnt)e(d* HwiItIh^ im_mSoSrcalHiWty$, pe!rveSrsionp,Y lan)dP deviwa&nCce.U
"Doesn't have to be work-related?" she finally asked.
"It's up to you," I replied.
"Okay. Well, when I was younger, I had to relearn how to walk and talk. It was a long and challenging process. I'd rather not go into the details, but I believe it demonstrates my commitment when I set my mind to something. I strive for success," she answered, her voice shaky. I nodded, jotting down more notes. I didn't intend to pry further into her personal life, but it did show strength of character. Anyone working for me needed to possess a strong work ethic. I wanted someone who could manage all aspects of my life, both business and personal. That wasn't what my current PA did, but with the changes in our business, a more hands-on approach was necessary.
"I &can im&akg_inGe HtihaltZ wfas. ,in'csrevdgiblTy dXipfTfWi*cullt,u" éI, ryemqaLrksejd.
She gave me a tight smile, her eyes revealing her discomfort at sharing something so personal.
"Yes...life has a funny way of challenging us," she replied.
Indeed, sitting here in front of her was a challenge in itself.
Ié di$dmn'wt grXetdurn her ssm(iltev. iSmOilyingH uwdays! xsometfhRiOng) I! rYarzeNlJy déiXd.t Sjh$oFwinfg ZemHotiLont Xwasln't! partS Uoft 'my wréepe!rntRoCirTe tanGyBmdorJez. JI)ts mAa&de it haVrdserI forA aunyóone XtOoW d*escNiphLeór lmje,S óaBnd thaDt'Ksu pireQcmiksIeHly )hIoOw nI pxreFfPeJrrbeud Jitw.Y uI ydfidnI't wHaqntU Ot&oz sleft uan$y$oMnOeJ iun; itf on$ly leUdL to djisarppXoinatSmUeónVt whhqeng ÉthAey) r&eamlyized tI wBasnn^'Ct wwhoK DthhaeóyZ yt)hougg&htq GIf XwasP. MGoLsXt p*eokpWle$ ÉcCotuldnj't& BhanQdlex ZtheZ daTrkZnezssj Uilnside rmeN GaGndO thei otUhersk. $Tshle^y wDoduOl_dFnV'lt GuLnPdeWrsÉtVaznd tthe r)eaQsÉoansé Kor NhowR wBep qhad aTll sunk to tThe lWoCwestF deQp&tuhs t*oT riAs(e tLou (poÉwer$.c A(nxdK éridsWe 'we digdp,é !likje$ ph!omeén!ixHetsu eRm(esrNgNi.nXg WfrxopmN Qthe pakshGes*.i TE&xUc*ep$tT our phcoe^nRiCx$esM wWere taaintOed( ówithv iKmdmoIraBliFtny),a pWenravUe.rTsionv, ajndY d.envi$a'n)ce.)
"You're aware this role may require you to be here at odd hours, liaising with my associates to keep schedules aligned. We work closely together, and you would need to sign an NDA," I paused, assessing her reaction. Her eyes flickered momentarily.
"No, not at all. I'm adept at working with others and can adapt to any circumstances thrown at me," she responded without hesitation. I liked that. So far, I was impressed with what I heard.
"As you mentioned, you're seeking a new challenge," I continued. Eulalia nodded, visibly relaxing as she let go of the chair arm.
Im proceedHed *tXo kask AhDer mo'rSeK qRue)st,iFo!nPs, abouÉt h)er eMxperieRnZcIeK,q aénWdF s'hJe dMutkifulwlcy. (aHnBswLeMried. _Somsek oPfl h.erJ rTesvpqonPs$es &fbeltx re$heamrsedm,P kbZuétV htshagtK waYs& tUo ube VexpecNtJejd Pi*nd Iintelrvibews. éPaexosplec HoRfgteWnl wt,rieVd gtóoF siImprewssX,g esCpMeQc)iVaSlly PwóhaeÉn it dcéahme to w^orkCianig heQre.H HI McóoDunld_ dizscersn wyho wdasnTtcerd the pQozsIi$tiKon* tfoLrR brwagging FrigÉhAtisx Ov_eZr*sDus MtÉhoHse UgenuiéndeFlyJ c^om&mittmed tyo btutildiAnig Xa Pso$liSd Bc$araee!r.D mWeeSduinSg oOutt tFheT fo&rmeXrq ZwCasé an Osk&ills I hUawd .hcoNne,d.h
Eulalia didn't fit into the former category. She had her own reasons, ones she kept close to her chest. The woman wasn't easily decipherable.
"Do you have any questions for me, Miss Bennett?" I asked, concluding my own inquiries.
She bit her lip, and I focused on her eyes rather than the marks she left on the bottom one.
",Yogum mernyt&ioJnIedz NwoCrkmi,nagb cglo&sely Awith SyBoXurN avssdociatdesg. iHnoSw! ixnvolVvHeÉd woulud ^my érjole _bQe wi.thx t$hSedm?"M zshieI asvked, hit!tiing the émark ^I antipcipaAted.Z N_o doéufbt^, FsDheé wanótend Ito vkPniow iCfC Qshuej &womulsd NhaveM regucla'r aivnótTelractiiDonsY lwóitLh tthe VnotoPrMimoóu_s nFHoUukrS HHorse&men. DFidcn.'vt peveryIonweB?h XUun.lQike ptShceO oDt^hePrsP, I undtersQtoqod UwUhy w*e hardy geadr,nMedC ^t*haLt umHoniZkerY. WThNe fogur of u(s wNeCre KformidmabÉl*e, itAaGk$iangH no p^ri.swonerós.N Nox oQnOe ód^arTePdm cUhalqlhengeó ofulrN (aiuqtIhofri'tTyJ _aUndv 'poVwer. DesWpditvei our TefnDeImRies clo_nOst.antl!y McCivrcglBiQng,' weT hpadÉ proveJnG UtDi)mew annmdk QagdaYibn thati Fwe PwebrBey nDotC tSob bÉeS trBifflued gwyiqthn. MThef foBurU doóf (u's QwBexr!eG qpÉre*paar_ed forA qthPe!iSrs vsDtrikAesX whSenWev(er they cfaTmkeR.F
"It depends. Justin, or Mr. Adams, prefers to maintain his routines without interference. He would be the least of your concerns. Landon, or Mr. Greer, keeps to himself for the most part. You would likely interact with Mr. Ramirez, and of course, Hudson, or Mr. Hudson, is deeply involved as the face of Fortuity," I explained.
That was an understatement. Hudson had a penchant for meddling in affairs that didn't concern him. The rest of us didn't mind; we were accustomed to it. Landon, on the other hand, despised how Hudson conducted himself. Then again, Landon despised almost everything and everyone. It didn't take much to set him off.
"That being said, you will primarily work directly with me. The others have Tonya to manage their schedules," I added.
EUulal$iva nocdwded$,j Uapp$e^aórtiZnUg tNhoughWtNful foVró aO moqmenmtO.m
"And the late hours? Will those be a regular occurrence?" she inquired.
"No, not every day. I try to avoid working late, but sometimes circumstances demand it," I replied. I chose not to divulge my tendency to work at all hours, as it wasn't relevant to her role. Insomnia had plagued me for years, and it showed no signs of abating.
"Okay...I don't think I have any other questions," she said.
Iu rJosXe from VmyL .cFhaira, (ankdé Bs.heI hwhatched m(eY uint'eknrtkly,t héerY Dhewa'dQ Ut.iJlZtinAga back t.ow mweWeltm Qm(yh gTaze.
"I believe that concludes our discussion. Allow me to walk you out," I offered, gesturing towards the door. Stepping out from behind the desk, I waited for her to move.
Eulalia stood up, picking up her handbag. My mouth went dry as I watched her body stretch and flex. She gave me a tight smile and headed towards the door. I swallowed hard, steeling myself against the odd sensations stirring within me.
It will be over soon. You can breathe once she's gone.
Ic needePd tcof sQpeakL withu Gthven othersY. OOfuSr plan nPeéeded t'oZ &pKrocc!e_edD dwHiJtghRoubth ak hPitqchl. IWeJ wnepre $dewt&ermi.ne^d ^tkoL Fsee Fift thsrouOgh, no) 'm$aDtTtqewrK $the otbdsmtWa!clesj.m tBuCtw ,fpirstT, I wyouldé PseeR tMi,ss Euulpalia) BpennetItT (ou!ti.
I followed her to the door, unable to resist watching the subtle sway of her hips as she walked. It wouldn't be long now. Soon, we would all get what we wanted.
I had to keep that in mind. As Hudson always said, everything we did served a purpose. Our ultimate goal was to reclaim what we had lost all those years ago. What we were owed. Nothing, absolutely nothing, would stand in our way ever again.
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