As the clan meeting drew to a close, my attention fixated on the mysterious girl who had captured my curiosity. Ignoring the concerned calls of Andhorra and Charlie, I maneuvered through the dispersing crowd, determined to catch up with her.
"Where are you going, Nero?" Andhorra called after me, her voice filled with confusion.
They barely registered in my mind as I made my way through the horde, my gaze fixed on the mysterious girl who was walking towards the exit. Her every movement seemed purposeful, like a phantom navigating the shadows. I pushed past shoulders and brushed past cloaks, my determination propelling me forward.
"Nero, wait!" Charlie's voice resonated with urgency, but it was nothing more than a distant echo. My mind was consumed by the enigmatic presence that eluded me.
The corridors outside the meeting hall were filled with eager discussions and hurried footsteps, but my focus remained unyielding, my eyes never leaving the girl's figure as she moved with an unnatural grace through the throng. I knew it was irrational, but I was ninety percent sure that she was that same girl I had seen dead in the lower districts, and I needed to see her face up close to confirm.
Finally, I emerged from the crowded hall, my heart pounding with anticipation. Confusion mingled with frustration as I scanned the area outside, hoping to catch sight of her. But to my dismay, she had vanished. It was as if she had evaporated into thin air, leaving no trace of her existence.
How had she disappeared so swiftly, as if she possessed supernatural abilities? My mind whirled with questions, desperately seeking answers that remained just beyond my grasp.
"She was right here," I murmured to myself, my voice laden with disappointment. "How could she vanish so quickly?"
Andhorra and Charlie caught up with me, "Nero, seriously? What on earth are you up to?" Charlie questioned, her tone a mix of exasperation and confusion.
"I thought I recognized someone, but it seems I must have been mistaken," I replied.
Andhorra raised an inquisitive eyebrow and asked, "Who?"
I waved a dismissive hand and said, "Forget it, it doesn't matter. It is no one relevant Let's focus on more pressing matters, shall we?"
Andhorra's eyes gleamed with mischief as she leaned in closer. "I have an idea," she whispered, her voice filled with calculated cunning. "Let's pay a visit to Ethan's house. If he's involved, he might have left something behind that could incriminate him."
"Actually, I thought about it during the meeting, and I think Tyler is more probable to be the one behind the fire" said Charlie.
"Tyler?" Asked Andhorra
"Him and Thomas might be in a fight at present, but I remind you they have been best friends for years. Andhorra is right, I think Ethan is a more probable culprit. Let's pay him a visit girls." I ordered them.
A shiver of excitement tingled down my spine. It was a risky move, but desperate times called for desperate measures. I needed to get Thomas out of my house. Andhorra nodded in agreement, her eyes gleaming with determination.
"Once we gather solid evidence, we can confront Ethan and force him to reveal the truth," Andhorra suggested, her voice laced with a mixture of resolve and apprehension.
With newfound determination, we made our way towards his house, a mix of nerves and adrenaline pulsating through our veins.
We approached the house cautiously, the remnants of the Parker's mansion casting a haunting backdrop. Charlie's sharp gaze landed on Ethan's car parked suspiciously in front of the wreckage rather than his own house.
"I remember seeing him parked here already on the day of the fire," Andhorra whispered, her voice laced with suspicion. "We need to find evidence, something that links him to the fire."
"What makes you so sure that it is him though? I he is a suspect at all." Charlie asked.
"I don't know but he is our only lead so far "replied Andhorra.
"Tyler is also a lead" continued Charlie.
"Tyler? Why would..." but before Andhorra could finish her sentence I stopped them both in their back and forth,
"That is enough. Let's get it over and done with, then we will talk about other potential leads."
With a determined look, Andhorra reached for the trunk. The three of us shared a silent agreement, understanding that we were crossing into forbidden territory. As Andhorra expertly picked the lock, we couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline coursing through our veins.
The trunk creaked open, revealing a hidden cache of items. My heart raced as I recognized a bottle of fire accelerant nestled among the contents. It was a chilling piece of evidence, linking Ethan to the destructive blaze that had consumed the Parker's mansion.
"See? It was him that did it." Bragged Andhorra.
Before we could process our discovery, Ethan emerged from his house, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation, I could see the fear etched across his face. He demanded to know why we were forcing open his car, his eyes darting nervously between each of us.
I took a step forward, and said assertively, "We know you're behind the fire at the Parker's mansion, Ethan. Don't bother denying it."
Ethan's eyes widened in shock, his voice shaking as he vehemently denied the accusation. "What?... No...hold on..., you've got it all wrong! I didn't start that fire. I would never..."
Before he could finish, Andhorra held up the fire accelerant we had found in his car, her voice filled with conviction. "Then how do you explain this, Ethan? It was in your trunk."
His face paled, crumpled in confusion and distress. "I swear, I've never seen that before. Someone must have planted it there, perhaps you have planted it! I'm being set up, can't you see? Why would I do this now? After all these years of suffering from Thomas' bullying, why now?"
We exchanged sceptical glances, unsure of what to believe. A wave of pity washed over me as I looked into Ethan's eyes, filled with vulnerability. I couldn't help but remember the countless times I witnessed Thomas's relentless bullying, the malicious taunts and physical abuse he inflicted upon Ethan. It was a torment that no one should have to endure.
Ethan's voice wavered as he continued, his vulnerability laid bare before us. "You have no idea what it's like, living in constant fear and humiliation. Thomas, he...he's made my life a living hell. The bullying, the torment, it's unbearable. I've thought about ending it all because of him. If I never took revenge before, why would I do it now out of the blue?"
"But Ethan, we can't just ignore the evidence." I Replied.
"To be honest Nero, I really don't think it was him, someone could have planted the evidence." Added Charlie.
His gaze met mine, filled with a mix of despair and desperation as he started to cry. "Why are you doing this? I am telling you it is not me, I did not put this accelerator in my trunk, I did not set Thomas' house on fire! Do you have any idea what the clan will do if they believe I'm responsible?"
Charlie, Andhorra and I exchanged glances unsure what to respond as we did not have the first idea as to what would be his punishment.
Seeing our clueless faces, he asked us "Do you even know what happened to Charles' family after your little scandal at the Galloping Charity Cups?"
"His dad was sent to prison and had his bank accounts frozen..." replied Andhorra.
"False, his dad was drowned by the clan. I was there, I saw it. They attached a weight on his foot and drowned him. As for Charles and his mother they were moved to the one of the lowest districts forced to do unpaid labour and living in miserable conditions. I did not do what you accuse me of, so please Nero, before you tell on me to your dad reconsider, I am begging you! They would punish my whole family for something I did not do. They could all die seeing as Thomas is the heir to the clan!"
As we stood there, facing his raw vulnerability, a decision silently passed between Charlie, Andhorra, and me. We exchanged a glance, a shared understanding that perhaps we shouldn't act on the evidence just yet. We needed more information, more certainty before we accused someone who was already a victim in his own right.
With a shared purpose, we decided to redirect our attention to the lower districts, particularly Charles and his mother's new living conditions. We got into my chauffeured car and made our way.
As we descended from the lofty heights of the high district, the opulence that had once surrounded us began to dissipate like a fleeting dream. The transition between the two realms was not merely a shift in scenery; it was a stark divergence of worlds, a stark reflection of the realities that awaited us below.
We first passed through the districts that ranked higher. In these, residents were able to maintain a semblance of a normal life, although they too were subjected to the same strict laws, punishments, and pervasive surveillance that plagued the entire city.
In these higher districts, residents carried on with their daily routines, their lives governed by the stringent regulations imposed by the regime. Yet, the heavy presence of surveillance cameras, the ever-watchful eyes of informants, and the constant fear of retribution cast a shadow over their existence.
As we ventured deeper into the lower districts, however, the conditions deteriorated with each step. Here, the grip of the regime tightened, squeezing the life out of its desperate inhabitants. The buildings that once stood tall and proud in the higher districts were now dilapidated, their crumbling façades mirroring the spirit of those who called them home.
The streets were lined with poverty-stricken families, their worn faces etched with lines of hardship and despair.
In these lower districts, the forced labour inflicted upon the residents reached unimaginable depths of brutality. The factories became sweatshops, where men, women, and even children toiled tirelessly, their bodies pushed beyond the limits of endurance.
The laws and regulations enforced by the regime were amplified, their reach extending into the most intimate aspects of the residents' lives. Curfews were enforced with ruthless efficiency, confining the populace to their meager dwellings as darkness fell. Any form of dissent or cultural expression was brutally suppressed, with punishments that grew increasingly severe the lower one's district ranking.
Death was a constant companion, snuffing out lives without remorse. Rape, physical violence, and other unspeakable atrocities were wielded as weapons to maintain control. The spectre of starvation loomed over the impoverished residents, their access to even the most necessities callously restricted.
In this grim landscape, the regime's surveillance apparatus reached its zenith. Surveillance cameras perched on every corner. Informants, driven by fear or desperation, lurked in the shadows, eager to betray their neighbours for even the smallest transgressions. The ever-present threat of being reported created an atmosphere of pervasive fear, eroding trust and fostering an environment of suspicion and paranoia.
The emotional toll exacted upon the residents of the lower districts was immeasurable. Hope flickered, threatened by the ceaseless winds of despair. The weight of oppression pressed upon their spirits, leaving them emotionally scarred and drained. They lived in a state of perpetual anguish, their dreams and aspirations crushed beneath the heel of an unforgiving regime.
Charlie's voice broke the heavy silence, her tone tinged with concern. "Nero, which districts did Ethan say Charles was sent to?"
Her words hung in the air, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt tightening within me. "District number 7," I replied quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. "We are now in district 9, the lowest of them all."
Andhorra, her face etched with a mixture of disbelief and horror, interjected with a shaky voice. "I can't believe we were the reason Charles ended up in a place like this. He is not a rebel, just a victim of his father's twisted desires."
Her words struck a chord deep within me, but I remained silent, the weight of our actions heavy on my conscience. Was it truly worth sacrificing Charles' happiness and subjecting him to this wretched existence, all for the sake of preserving a throne?
Our sombre thoughts were abruptly shattered as our gaze fell upon a chilling sight—a wall adorned with the lifeless bodies of hanged individuals. Outcasts and rebels, their limp forms swayed in the wind, a macabre display meticulously arranged by the clan. Among the bodies hanging there, was the one of Charles' father. The wall served as a constant reminder to the other residents of the consequences they faced if they dared to challenge the regime's authority.
The sight before us made our stomachs churn, a sickening sensation that threatened to engulf us. We felt a profound sense of nausea, as if the very essence of humanity had been tainted by the grotesque spectacle before us.
Just as the weight of the scene threatened to overwhelm us, a voice pierced through the air—a member of the clan's police had recognized me "Miss Gambino, what are you doing here? You shouldn't be in this district it is too dangerous. I will call for a car to drive you home safely just wait here a minute."
"No need to bother, I have my car waiting by district 4." I replied.
"Stay here, I will call for it"
Before we could utter a word in response he left, and within a few minutes, my chauffeured car screeched to a halt beside us. The officer motioned for us to get inside, and with a mix of relief and trepidation, we climbed into the vehicle and were on our way home.
As we entered my bedroom, I could sense the tension building between us. Andhorra collapsed onto my plush armchair, while Charlie paced back and forth, her eyes filled with suspicion. Her insistence on Tyler being the mastermind behind the fire at the Parker's mansion had become almost obsessive. She clung to the idea with an unwavering determination, her eyes filled with conviction.
"I'm telling you, Nero, it has to be Tyler," Charlie insisted "Think about it. He's the only one with enough guts to strike back at Thomas after what he did to him."
Andhorra leaned forward, her expression thoughtful. "It's not entirely far-fetched," she added. "Tyler has always been proud, and his ego was doubly hurt after you turned him down and Thomas almost beat him to death that night. He could have snapped and sought his revenge in the most destructive way."
I paused, contemplating their words. Charlie's certainty was contagious, yet I couldn't help but feel that there was more to this puzzle.
Then I noticed the time, the night had already fallen a long time ago, and Aiyden had surely been waiting for me for a long time already.
"Let's go talk to Tyler tomorrow and we will take it from there. But for now, I have somewhere to go girls, you can just sleep in the guest room, okay?"
"Wait ... what? Where could you possibly go at this hour?" asked Charlie.
"I need... to... run an... errand for my dad!" I spat this lie as I quickly made my way out "don't wait for me, I'll see you at brunch tomorrow".
I rushed through the deserted streets, my heart pounding with each step. The weight of guilt settled heavily upon me, as I realized I had let time slip away, consumed by my own investigation. Aiyden's words echoed in my mind, and I feared that I had shattered the trust we had difficultly built.
As I reached the abandoned church, pushing open the creaking doors, I stepped inside the dimly lit church. And there, by the old piano, stood Aiyden, his expression a mix of anger and disappointment.
"Aiyden," I said, my voice trembling with regret. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to keep you waiting. I lost track of time, and I..."
He cut me off, his voice laced with seething anger. "Nero, I can't believe you. How could you be so irresponsible? We had a plan, and you just threw it all away. It is extremely important to stick to the plan! We meet here on Sundays and Wednesdays before the moon reaches its zenith."
I discreetly checked the time on my phone, and it was almost 2 am only.
"I thought you were not coming! Worst I thought you had turned your back on us and betrayed us!"
His words pierced through me, "Aiyden, please listen. I never intended to abandon you or our mission. I made a mistake, and I'm owning up to it. I know I let you down, but I promise you, my commitment is unwavering. I want the horrors and atrocities committed by the clan to end just as much as you do."
His gaze hardened; his anger palpable. "Promises mean nothing if you can't keep them, Nero. This isn't just about me or our cause. Lives are at stake, and your recklessness could cost us everything we've fought for."
He couldn't possibly be that furious merely because I was a little late. No, there was something deeper fuelling that level of anger, and I refused to be deceived. With determined steps, I made my way towards him, my gaze locked onto his, searching for any traces of the true cause behind his rage.
Taking a seat beside him on the worn-out piano stool, I maintained unwavering eye contact, a mischievous glimmer in my eyes. "Are you certain this is the real reason for your anger?" I playfully inquired, knowing there was more to the story.
He looked at me, his mask slipping for a brief moment, revealing his vulnerability. "I know I messed up, but your anger seems disproportionate to my lateness alone," I continued.
A heavy silence hung between us as he wrestled with his emotions, hesitant to unveil the truth. Minutes stretched into what seemed to be an eternity; the air thick with unspoken words. Shifting my focus to the broken, decaying piano in front of us, I began lightly pressing random keys, the sound echoing through the church.
"Teach me," I asserted, my voice firm yet tinged with a hint of seduction. His confusion was evident in his eyes as he struggled to comprehend my request. Without giving him a chance to respond, I pressed on, my determination unwavering. "Since I'm here now, you have a choice. You can continue to brood over my tardiness as I make my way back home, or you can share your passion for playing the piano with me and teach me your skills."
His gaze softened, caught off guard by my unexpected proposition. A flicker of surprise danced in his eyes, mingled with a hint of amusement. Slowly, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he nodded in silent agreement.
My heart raced as he positioned himself behind me, his hands gently guiding mine on the piano keys. The electricity between us crackled in the air, the intense atmosphere thick with unspoken desire. His warm breath tickled my ear as he whispered instructions, his voice sending shivers down my spine. The scent of my cologne mingled with the musky aroma of his presence, intoxicating my senses.
"Press this key softly," he murmured, his voice laced with a delicious mixture of restraint and longing. His touch ignited a fire within me, his fingers interlaced with mine, creating an intimate connection that transcended the music.
In that moment, as we moved in harmony, it became clear that the unspoken tension between us had reached its breaking point.
I turned my face towards his, my heart pounding in my chest, eager to see if, just like me, he could also sense the electric charge. Our eyes locked, the intensity of our gazes conveying a hunger that words couldn't capture. Our faces were mere centimetres apart.
"I don't know how much longer I can resist you," he confessed as he swallowed hard.
A surge of electricity shot through me, intensifying the ache between my thighs. I responded, my voice a breathy invitation, "Then don't..."
In an instant, he pounced, his body pressing against mine with a hunger that matched my own. Our lips collided in a fervent and urgent kiss, a clash of tongues that spoke volumes of the passion burning within us.
His hands, calloused yet skilled, moved with an unrestrained fervour, shedding layers of fabric with a desperate impatience. Clothing dropped to the floor in a flurry of urgency, revealing the contours of our heated bodies.
A gasp escaped my lips as his hands found my breasts, cupping them with a possessiveness that left me yearning for more. His thumbs grazed my hardened nipples, coaxing sensations of pleasure that radiated through my core. I arched into his touch, offering myself willingly to the inferno that blazed within us.
His lips followed the path his hands had taken, leaving a trail of wet kisses along my collarbone. Each touch, each nip, sent a jolt of desire straight to the depths of my being. I moaned, my voice a symphony of need, as his mouth found its way to the sensitive flesh of my neck. His teeth grazed my skin, a delicious mixture of pleasure and pain that had me teetering on the edge.
His hands, now demanding and insistent, parted my thighs, exposing the core of my desire. My breath hitched as his fingers brushed against my heated centre, a prelude to the ecstasy that awaited.
The world around us faded into insignificance as his fingers explored my most intimate depths. They moved with a rhythm dictated by our shared desire, a dance of pleasure that left me gasping for breath.
But I was not content with mere receiving. As his touch drove me wild with need, my own hand found its way to him, seeking to reciprocate the pleasure he bestowed upon me. I stroked his hardness, matching his rhythm, my grip firm.
His voice, thick with desire, filled the air, his words a declaration of his primal longing. "Oh god, you are so beautiful," he groaned, his grip tightening around my neck, a delicious reminder of the power he held over me. "I need you now, Nero," he confessed, his voice laced with desperation.
He slowly positioned himself between my legs, his eyes never leaving mine, and in a single, languid movement, he entered me, a perfect fit that brought us both to the edge of bliss. A gasp escaped my lips as he filled me, each inch stretching me deliciously, forging a connection that transcended the physical. Pleasure rippled through me, a symphony of sensations that threatened to consume us both.
As our bodies moved in perfect synchrony, the rhythm between us became a dance of carnal desire. Each thrust and grind brought us closer to the edge, the friction between our heated flesh a tantalizing torment that sent waves of pleasure rippling through us. The piano, once a mere backdrop to our desire, now resonated with the symphony of our pleasure. Moans and gasps mingled with the melodic notes, creating a harmonious tapestry of ecstasy.
I could feel the weight of his hard muscles against my softness, the delicious contrast of strength and vulnerability. His hands, calloused, traced the contours of my body with a possessive hunger. They worshipped every inch, leaving trails of fire in their wake.
His lips, hot and demanding with each kiss, a meeting of souls that spoke volumes without words. Each brush of his tongue against my sensitive skin sent shivers down my spine, amplifying the mounting tension within me. is grip tightened on my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh as he pulled me closer. The dance of our bodies intensified, the urgent press and release of our union sending waves of ecstasy crashing through us.
I could feel the heat building within me, an inferno threatening to consume every inch of my being. His every touch, every stroke, pushed me closer to the precipice of pleasure. With each thrust, I surrendered to the raw and primal sensations that coursed through my body, igniting a hunger that demanded to be satisfied.
The sound of our bodies meeting, a symphony of skin slapping against skin, echoed in the room. Moans and gasps escaped our lips, harmonizing with the rhythmic sounds of our passion. It was a symphony of desire, an orchestration of pleasure.
Beads of sweat dotted our skin, glistening like liquid fire in the dimly lit room. The taste of salt and desire lingered on our lips.
As the climax approached, our movements became more frenzied, more desperate. The coil of tension within me tightened, ready to unravel in an explosion of ecstasy. And when the moment finally arrived, it was as if the universe shattered around us, sending waves of euphoria crashing over our entwined bodies.
Breathless and spent, we collapsed into each other's arms, our bodies entangled and hearts still pounding. The aftermath of our physical union left us in a state of blissful surrender, our spirits intertwined, and our souls forever marked by the intensity of our shared pleasure.
After a few moments, Aiyden gently cupped my sweating face in his hands, pulling it back until our eyes met. I could see the vulnerability in his eyes, the depth of his affection laid bare before me.
"You were right," he confessed, "I wasn't angry because you were late. I was afraid that something might have happened to you. The thought of not knowing, of not being able to come to your aid, was unbearable. I imagined the worst, that your father had discovered your actions, and the mere idea of you facing the consequences alone ... just never do this again ok? "
I gazed into his eyes, seeing the depth of his emotions reflected in their depths. It was vulnerable admission that he cared for me deeply. A smile played on my lips, a mix of mischief and affection, as I understood the significance of his words.
We dressed ourselves back up and moved towards one of the pews. As we hugged, laughter filled the air, mingling with the gentle rustling of fabric.
"I guess our innocent piano lesson took an unexpected turn," I teased, playfully nudging his arm.
He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and desire. "Seems like my piano skills aren't the only thing that caught your attention," he replied, his voice filled with a hint of smugness.
I feigned nonchalance, offering a coy shrug. "Oh, please, I'm not so easily swayed by a seductive melody."
His eyes danced with amusement and desire, his tone filled with an undercurrent of challenge. "Really? I beg to differ. It seems the music had its desired effect on both of us."
Time passed in a comfortable haze, and as the weariness settled upon me, I nestled my head against Aiyden's shoulder. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat provided a soothing lullaby, and before I knew it, sleep washed over me like a gentle wave.
As I slowly opened my eyes, the next morning, the light filtered into the room, illuminating the unfamiliar surroundings. Confusion knitted my brows together as I took in the dilapidated state of the room. It was a stark contrast to the luxurious comforts of my own bedroom. The cracked walls were adorned with peeling wallpaper, revealing the bare bones of the neglected space. The scent of mildew hung heavily in the air, mingling with the faint mustiness of old wood.
I sat up, wincing as a sharp ache shot through my back. It was then that I realized the "bed" I had slept on was nothing more than a thin, worn-out mattress lying directly on the cold, hard floor. This was not my room. This was Aiyden's room. But how did I end up here? And where was he?
My eyes darted around the room, searching for any clues that could unravel the mystery of the previous night. The meager furnishings told a tale of neglect. A rickety wooden desk cluttered with scattered papers stood in one corner, the chair beside it barely holding together. Dust danced in the slivers of sunlight that managed to penetrate through the tattered curtains, casting a melancholic aura over the room.
Just as I was contemplating my next move, the door swung open with a creak, and a girl barged in, her voice brimming with urgency as she said "Aiyden, we have an urgent issue with the neighbo..."
In her haste, she failed to notice that Aiyden was not in the room but instead found me nestled in the worn-out bed. Her words caught in her throat as her eyes widened with surprise.
"Yes, and it seems you have boundaries issues," I replied with irritation, "Did no one teach you how to knock before entering someone else's room?"
But as the fog of sleep dissipated and I took a better a look at the girl in front of me I realised it was her.
The mysterious red-haired women that was secretly visiting George in the night; that same girl that was looking for someone named Percival at my estate; and the very girl I had followed in the forest that had led me right to the den.
But why was she here? And how did she know Aiyden?