The rain reflected my mood—relentless, soul-crushing gray swallowing me whole, much like the emptiness gnawing at my chest. Liam. My brother. Gone. Just like that. He vanished without a trace, leaving behind a gaping hole and a silence louder than any storm.
Anya, my niece, her tiny hand clutched in mine, sniffled into a crumpled tissue. At five, she was too young to fully grasp the weight of loss, but the tremor in her small frame spoke volumes. Liam was her world, her protector, the constant source of silly songs and bedtime stories. Now, he was gone, and the world felt colder. More dangerous.
The somber procession moved through the rain-slicked cemetery, a sea of black umbrellas and hushed whispers. I barely registered the murmured condolences, my gaze fixed on the freshly dug grave—a gaping maw swallowing my brother whole. A sob escaped my lips, raw and unfiltered, and Anya's small body trembled against mine.
Just as the suffocating grief threatened to consume me, a figure emerged from the shadows, a silhouette against the stormy sky. Tall and imposing, he moved with a calculated grace, his gaze sweeping over the mourners like a hawk surveying its prey.
Kaelen Vex.
Gasps rippled through the crowd as he stepped forward. A man whose name carried weight in hushed conversations, whispered warnings, and unspoken fears. Power. Wealth. An unsettling ruthlessness.
He approached me, his movements fluid despite the slick ground. His face, pale and sculpted, was a mask of indifference, but his eyes—a stormy sea of gray—held a flicker of something. Interest? Pity? It was impossible to decipher.
"Mrs. Thorne," he said, his voice a low rumble, a stark contrast to the mournful silence. "I understand this is not the most opportune time, but we need to discuss... matters of importance."
I stiffened, my grip tightening around Anya's hand. Kaelen Vex had no business here. He was a stranger. A predator circling his prey. Liam wouldn't have approved.
"I don't know who you are," I said, my voice trembling with a mixture of grief and defiance. "And I don't care to."
He inclined his head, a gesture both mocking and cautionary. "Your brother's death wasn't an accident, Mrs. Thorne. And now, they're coming for you."
My blood ran cold. "What are you talking about?"
"Let's discuss it elsewhere," he murmured, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Somewhere more... private."
I hesitated, torn between fear and a fierce protectiveness for Anya. The thought of anyone harming her, of taking away the last piece of my brother's love, was unbearable.
"What do you want?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
A slow, predatory smile touched his lips. "Your cooperation, Mrs. Thorne. In exchange, I offer you and your niece protection. And a future."
Protection. The word echoed in my mind, a lifeline in a sea of despair. But at what cost? I looked at Anya, her eyes wide with fear, and knew I couldn't afford to gamble with her safety.
"What do you want me to do?" My voice barely carried over the sound of the rain.
His smile widened, chilling in its certainty. A single demand.
"Marry me."