Vincent
The glass in my hand had long gone warm, but I didn't care. I didn't drink to enjoy anymore. I drank to forget. Or pretend I could.
Smoke curled above the crystal rim, curling around the edges of my thoughts like fog refusing to lift. I hadn't smoked in months. Not since she made a face about it, crinkled her nose and said, "Really? That's what you're into?"
Back then, I stubbed it out. Tossed the whole pack.
Now I'd torn through two.
The study reeked of old books, leather, and the quiet things a man carries when the world doesn't give him space to break. My shirt was halfway unbuttoned. Tie tossed somewhere near the armchair. The decanter sat half-empty and judging me.
Adriel hadn't spoken to me all day. Wise man. Even Lily had learned to tread lightly. The whole mansion knew what I wouldn't say. That it was too quiet. That something in me had been displaced.
That I missed her.
But I wouldn't admit it.
She'd been gone for only a few days. Just a few. And yet, the entire rhythm of the estate was offbeat. I caught myself listening for footsteps that didn't come, glancing toward the hallway where she never stood, pausing at doors she wouldn't open.
Damn it.
I took another drink, the burn scratching down my throat like I deserved it. The last thing I wanted was sentiment. The second-to-last? Regret.
And yet... here I was.
I pulled the chain around my neck-the one she once reached for playfully-and stared at the ring hanging there. Thin, silver, hers. I should've taken it back when I tore the contract. I hadn't.
"You were never just a card I played, Little De."
The name came out in a whisper. My whisper. No one was around. No one could hear how soft it became in my mouth.
I dragged my fingers through my hair, leaned back in the chair, and let the silence settle like dust. It used to be my friend. Now it just itched.
The truth? I'd grown used to the chaos she brought with her. The questions. The attitude. The way she stood her ground even when she trembled. I respected her.
God help me-I wanted her.
But I couldn't want her. Not like this.
She deserved quiet. Normal. She deserved the kind of love that didn't have gunpowder buried under every kiss.
But when I looked at the empty seat across the room-the one she always refused to sit in, insisting she wasn't some obedient little thing-I wished I'd made her stay just a little longer.
The fireplace crackled. I lit another cigarette.
"You're not here to burn," I whispered again. "You're here to rule beside me."
That's what I'd told her, once. But I hadn't known what ruling without her would feel like.
It felt like ash. Bitter. Tangled in every breath.
I didn't go to bed that night. Didn't even leave the study.
I just kept drinking.
---
I wasn't spiraling. I was just... in orbit. Around something that wasn't here anymore.
The knock came without urgency. Three short taps.
I knew it was Adriel even before I heard the doorknob twist. No one else could break my rules and still keep their kneecaps.
He walked in without waiting for permission. Brave. Stupid. Predictable.
"You're still alive," I said flatly, swirling the amber in my glass. "That's unfortunate. I had money on you bleeding out on a sidewalk."
Adriel ignored the bait and dropped a file on my desk.
"Rion's dead."
Silence.
My eyes didn't flinch from the whisky, not yet. I let the words hang, watching them settle in the air like the dust they were.
"How?"
"Explosion. His car. Germany. He'd been sniffing around the Richter family-you know, the ones who specialize in biological warfare and black-market explosives. Thought he could cut a deal for arms expansion. They thought he was leaking intel."
"Was he?"
"Does it matter?"
I finally turned to look at him, the file untouched.
"Boom?"
"Boom."
I smirked, slow and sharp.
"I guess I'm not that bad after all, like she says," I muttered to no one in particular. "Little De... he meddled with the wrong devils, and they couldn't even stand his whiff."
I leaned back in the chair, tapping the edge of my glass.
"And the trash takes itself out. But God really did love him. Because if I'd gotten there first, I'd have ripped his jaw out with my bare hands and fed it to him."
Adriel didn't comment. He knew better than to interrupt when I was crafting poetry out of rage.
"What else?" I asked, because death alone doesn't knock on my door in one night.
"Riley."
That name tasted worse than the cigarette smoke.
"She's been arrested," he continued, placing another file beside the first. "Cocaine distribution. Evidence links her to three major rings, and there's talk of a plea deal if she rats out her suppliers."
"And did she?"
"No. Girl's holding on tight to that mafia-code-of-honor fantasy. Either she thinks someone will save her, or she's too dumb to realize no one's coming."
I snorted.
"She always had a flair for dramatics. I thought betrayal would've humbled her, but apparently betrayal is her actual career path."
I stood slowly, the whisky catching the light. The flicker of heat in my leg reminded me I wasn't immortal-not yet, anyway.
"Dead childhood friends. Imprisoned fake ones. What a week."
I downed the drink and set the glass down with a dull clink.
"Anything else? Or are you just here to bask in the satisfaction of my enemies choking on their own vomit?"
Adriel smirked. "Well, I was going to say you should get some sleep, but I forgot who I was talking to."
I chuckled, bitter and genuine.
"Tell the staff to burn Rion's file. I don't want his name anywhere in this house. And Riley-send flowers. Dead ones. With a card that says, You played, you lost."
Adriel nodded, slipping into the shadows the way he always did.
And me?
I stood there, in a room that smelled like old smoke, bitter whisky, and the aftertaste of revenge. A perfect cocktail.
Almost.
Still missing the sweet twist of her walking in and rolling her eyes at my poetic threats.
Not that I missed her.
That would be ridiculous.