Lucas moved through the house with a quiet ease, his presence almost ghostly. It had been days since he'd had a meaningful interaction with Mr. Morton, and in the rare moments when their paths crossed, the older man seemed preoccupied, distant. The house felt hollow, except for the looming presence of Mrs. Morton's ashes, prominently displayed on a marble mantle in the grand living room.
Every time Lucas passed them, his lips curled into a smile—small, secret, and unsettling. There was a pleasure in seeing the urn, in knowing that Mrs. Morton was nothing more than dust now, a remnant of a life that meant so little to Lucas. He relished in the fact that her death had left such a void, yet no one seemed willing to acknowledge it. It was as though her passing was just a minor inconvenience to those who remained.
One evening, after days of eerie silence, Lucas found himself seated across from Mr. Morton at the long dining table. The atmosphere was as cold as ever. Mr. Morton sat stiffly at the head, his sharp, calculating eyes scanning over documents as if Lucas wasn't even there.
Lucas let the silence stretch, enjoying the tension that filled the space between them. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he broke it, his voice smooth and casual.
"Where is Mrs. Thomas?" Lucas asked, leaning back in his chair with a nonchalant air. He had noticed the housekeeper's absence long ago but had waited for the perfect moment to bring it up.
Mr. Morton didn't even look up from his papers. His voice was flat, dismissive. "Mrs. Morton fired her. The day she died, in fact."
Lucas raised an eyebrow, though he wasn't surprised. A small smirk played on his lips as he asked, "Could we rehire her? The house feels... too empty."
This time, Mr. Morton looked up, his eyes dark and inscrutable. There was a moment of silence before he responded, his tone indifferent. "I'll see what I can do."
His sharp gaze fell on Lucas, who was staring at the urn now on the mantle with a strange, lingering smile. Mr. Morton paused, his expression unreadable, then spoke again, his voice low but firm.
"Why haven't you been attending school?" The question came without preamble, cutting through the silence like a blade.
Lucas didn't turn to face him. His eyes remained fixed on Mrs. Morton's ashes, the smile slowly fading. He hadn't gone to school in days, but the reason wasn't something he could easily admit. The truth was that he didn't want to see Kane. The last encounter had left something sour inside him, something he didn't want to acknowledge. But Lucas wasn't going to tell Mr. Morton that.
Instead, he said nothing.
Mr. Morton's sigh filled the room, heavy and exasperated. He dragged a hand through his neatly combed hair clearly exasperated. "Lucas," he began again, his voice softening slightly, "I donate so much money to that school that your absence will hardly matter on your record."
Lucas finally turned his gaze from the ashes, locking eyes with Mr. Morton. He didn't smile, didn't even nod in acknowledgment—he simply stared, waiting for the conversation to end. There was something almost predatory in the way Lucas watched him, as though gauging how much Mr. Morton actually cared.
Mr. Morton, seeming to sense the dead weight of Lucas's silence, just nodded to himself "However please try to attend.Just make sure you go back when you're ready," he said, his voice drained of any authority. "The school will overlook it, as always."
Lucas nodded slightly, a movement so minimal it could have gone unnoticed. He wasn't ready to face Kane again. For now, he was content to stay hidden in the house, away from the mess outside. Away from Kane's eyes that always seemed to see too much but he knew that he was just being a coward the more he stayed home and that in itself pissed him off.
Mr. Morton, reading Lucas's quiet compliance as agreement, he stood up ,turned and left the room without another word. The sound of his retreating footsteps faded, and Lucas was once again left alone with the oppressive silence of the house. He glanced back at the urn on the mantle, his eyes narrowing in thought.
....
The next day, Lucas's face had nearly healed, the bruising reduced to a faint puffiness. He stood in front of the mirror in his room, tilting his head from side to side, assessing the damage. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough. He could go back to school now. With a sigh, he grabbed his bag and left the house, feeling the weight of Mr. Morton's watchful eyes even as he slipped out the door.
As Lucas arrived at school, the usual buzz of chatter and laughter filled the air,but today above the usual curious and scared glances.It was different ,students moved through the courtyard, backpacks slung over their shoulders, gossiping in tight groups casting mocking glances at Lucas who barely noticed them; his thoughts were elsewhere, heavy with the anticipation of seeing Kane again. His steps were slow, deliberate, as he entered the main building.
But then something stopped him in his tracks.
On the bulletin board near the entrance, a familiar face stared back at him. It was Kane—but not in the way Lucas had expected. His dark, piercing eyes glared out from the black-and-white poster, his features slightly blurred but unmistakable. Above the image, in bold, blocky letters, the word "WANTED" was printed, followed by: "If you see this individual, immediately contact the police.He is a very dangerous criminal so do not approach."
Lucas stared at the poster, his heart skipping a beat. Kane's face, captured in stark black and white, looked almost feral beneath the bold "WANTED" letters. He took a step closer, the noise of the school fading into the background. The poster's crisp edges and the bright ink made it clear it had been printed recently. *Wanted*? He couldn't wrap his mind around it. Kane was reckless, sure—but to have the police involved?Did they find out he had killed those people back in that town? Do they know Lucas was involved.That felt like a next level of trouble Lucas didn't want to get involved with .
The image of Kane, always so in control, now plastered across the school walls felt almost surreal. His mind spun with questions—what had Kane done? How much did people know? And more importantly, did this mean that Kane wouldn't be around anymore?
A strange mix of relief and disappointment churned inside Lucas. As much as he'd dreaded facing Kane again, the thought of not seeing him at all left a hollow feeling in his chest. But that didn't mean Kane wasn't watching—he always had a way of staying close, even when unseen.
Turning his back on the poster, Lucas pushed his way through the crowded hallway, his mind racing. He felt the weight of judgmental stares from other students, but they were background noise, unimportant. As he passed one corner, he slowed, feeling a presence—something almost familiar. His breath caught in his throat.
Across the courtyard, standing in the distance, was Dimitri.
He was leaning casually against a column, arms crossed over his chest, his face illuminated by the pale morning light. There was a beautiful smile on his lips, soft yet knowing, as though he had been waiting for Lucas all along. That smile, delicate and unnerving.
Lucas stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing. Immediately, he knew—it was Dimitri's doing. The poster. Kane being wanted. It had to be. Lucas felt it in the way Dimitri's smile never faltered, as if savoring some silent victory.
Anger and confusion twisted in Lucas's chest, but more than that, there was something else—something darker. A part of him admired Dimitri's cleverness, how smoothly he had pulled the strings without anyone noticing. And yet, there was the sting of betrayal, even if Lucas couldn't fully explain why.He didn't like the idea of Dimitri getting involved with such a man.
Their eyes met across the distance, and for a brief moment, it was as if the entire world stopped moving. Dimitri's smile widened, his expression calm, almost serene, as though he had anticipated this exact moment. He tilted his head slightly, a subtle acknowledgment of the unspoken understanding between them.
Lucas clenched his jaw, fists tightening around the straps of his bag. He wanted to confront Dimitri, to demand answers, but there was no point. The game had already begun, and Lucas realized he wasn't just a player anymore—he was being played.
Without another word, Dimitri turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd, leaving Lucas standing there, rooted in place. The poster of Kane loomed behind him like a silent specter, a reminder that things were far from over.
Lucas's mind raced, but his face remained impassive, unreadable. Dimitri's smile lingered in his thoughts, unsettling and beautiful. Whatever had happened, whatever was coming next, Lucas knew one thing for certain—Dimitri was far more dan
gerous than he had realized.
And somehow, that excited him.