Chapter 3 - The Shadow’s Twin
The man in the shadows was tall, lean, and wore his leather vest like armor.
Unlike the others, he did not kneel.
Instead, he slowly stepped forward into the dim light of the hanging bulbs.
The silver on his hand gleamed, a perfect twin to the ring on the girl's small finger.
This was the Right Hand ring, the one belonging to the club’s enforcer—the man Roman Wolfe had trusted above all others.
His name was Silas Vance.
Silas looked down at the girl, his face a mask of cold calculations.
“Well, well,” Silas murmured, his voice smooth like oiled leather. “Look what crawled out of the ashes.”
The scarred leader, whose name was Marcus, remained on his knees, caught between two titans.
The tension in the room was so thick it was hard to draw a clean breath.
The little girl, whose name was Lyra, did not flinch as Silas drew closer.
She remembered this man.
She remembered him sitting at her family’s kitchen table, laughing with her father, eating her mother’s bread.
She remembered the night of the fire, the way a shadow had stood outside her window as the house burned.
“You,” Lyra whispered, her young voice carrying a weight that belonged to a woman twice her age.
“Me,” Silas replied, stopping just three feet away. “You have your father’s eyes, little girl. But those eyes didn't save him.”
A low murmur ran through the kneeling men, a ripple of unease.
They loved Roman, but they feared Silas’s cruelty even more.
Silas reached down, his heavy, ring-clad hand extending toward Lyra’s face.
“And you shouldn't have brought that toy back here,” Silas sneered, aiming for the ring on her finger.
Lyra didn’t flinch, didn’t pull back.
May you like
She simply reached into her other pocket.
And pulled out a small, old iron key.
