Time slipped like sand. The men had brought Alec Garcia — Lily’s father — into Mikhail’s office and shut the door on whatever thin normality Alec still clung to.
“Boss, he’s here.” One of the lieutenants announced, voice low.
Mikhail turned from the screen, a smirk easing across his face. He watched Alec bow with the practiced courtesy of a man who’d spent his life negotiating danger. Alec forced a greeting. “Morning, Mister Abramov. Another—uh—mission?”
Mikhail gestured casually at the guards. They backed away, then bowed and left the room like shadows receding. When the door clicked shut, the smile fell from Mikhail’s face as if someone had snuffed it.
“Mission?” he said, slow and cold. “We can call it that. Or we can talk about your life. Tell me about your life…outside the assassins and the ledgers.”
Alec’s brows drew together; the bravado drained from his posture. “Sorry, Mr. Abramov. Let’s keep this professional—”
“Questioning back?” Mikhail’s eyebrow rose, amusement stripped of warmth. The shadow in his eyes made Alec swallow hard.
“N-no, boss. I—” Alec stammered, fingers knuckled white on his briefcase. “What is it you want to know, Mr. Abramov?”
Mikhail circled the desk with the slow, patient confidence of a predator. He sat, palms steepled, and gestured to the chair opposite. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Alec took the seat as if it might bite.
Mikhail’s voice flattened. “Look. I know about Lily—”
Before the sentence finished, Alec lunged, panic loud and raw. “N-no, boss! You can’t—my daughter—please. We keep her out of this. Whatever this is—”
Mikhail’s smile was a blade. He cut him off with a patient, terrifying calm. “Too late, Garcia. She’s already in this. I’ve had my eyes on her for a while. We can do this the easy way and talk like reasonable men… or we can do this the hard way.”
Alec’s jaw went rigid. “You wouldn’t—”
“Oh, I would.” Mikhail’s tone was soft; the threat was glass-sharp. “Make her cry, and I’ll bury you. Make her mine, and you live to breathe the debt. Choose.” He let the words hang, warmed by his own certainty.
The office held its breath. Alec searched Mikhail’s face for anything human—some crack he could pry open—but found only ice.
“Mr. Abramov, please… I can’t do this. She’s my daughter.” His voice broke on the last word.
Mikhail’s eyes darkened. A low, monstrous laugh slipped out, amused and cruel. “Can’t do this?” He let the words hang like a blade. “Not an option, Garcia. Be a man. Choose.”
Alec’s hands shook. “Mr. Abramov… h-how—why—”
Mikhail cut him off with velvet calm and a cruelty that felt clinical. “Oh, Garcia. It isn’t hard. I want your daughter. I will keep her safe. I won’t bite… unless you give me a reason to.” He leaned in, the smile slow, certain—a trap closing.
The air in the office turned heavy, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. Alec’s voice cracked as he leaned forward, hands trembling.
“Mr. Abramov, please… not my daughter. Anything but her… please. She’s the only memory left of her mother.”
Mikhail tilted his head, eyes like dark glass. “Oh no, no, Garcia,” he murmured, his tone almost tender — almost. “I don’t just want her. I NEED her. And I get what I want. That’s a fact. She is what I need, and I’m not letting her go. Not in this life. Not in another. So play along…” His smile sharpened, a blade in the dark. “…or I’ll make you.”
“Mr. Abramov, p-please—”
Mikhail didn’t even answer. He raised a single finger, a gesture that stopped the plea mid-air, and opened his laptop. The glow of the screen lit his face like a phantom. Lily appeared, live feed, sitting on a couch, laughing softly with the maid — oblivious to the storm bearing down on her.
Alec’s eyes widened. Fear swallowed him whole. “N-no—”
“Calm down, Garcia.” Mikhail’s voice cut through the room, calm and cold as steel. “She’s safe… as long as you play good. Dare disobey, and she won’t be so happy after all.”
He leaned back, steepling his fingers. “Choose wisely, Garcia.”
Alec’s voice had all but vanished. He stared at the glowing screen, at Lily’s smile, until his vision blurred. When sound finally came, it was a rasp.
“Don’t… don’t hurt her. I’ll do as you say. Please.”
Mikhail’s mouth curled, not quite a smile. His tone was smooth, clinical. “Good, Garcia. Don’t make this harder than it has to be. I don’t want her suffering. I want your daughter. I want to marry her, keep her safe. And in this process…” He leaned forward slightly, eyes glinting like a predator in low light. “…you’ll help me. Right?”
Alec swallowed, his throat raw. The fight drained out of him until only a father’s terror remained. “Y-yes, Mr. Abramov,” he said at last, voice low and lost, each syllable a surrender.
Mikhail leaned back, satisfied. “Wise answer.”
Mikhail leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, eyes still fixed on the screen. Alec’s surrender had been inevitable, but that didn’t make it any less satisfying. A slow, almost imperceptible smile curved his lips—a predator pleased with the first steps of a perfect hunt.
So obedient… so predictable, he thought, dark amusement curling in his chest. And she… my Lily. Every heartbeat of hers is mine already, whether she knows it or not.
He swirled the glass of whiskey in front of him, though he didn’t drink. It was a gesture, a part of the show. Every detail, every move, meticulously controlled. He could feel the thrill tightening around him, subtle and intoxicating. The gold lilies, the note, Alec’s desperate eyes—everything was playing out exactly as he’d envisioned.
Mikhail leaned closer to the screen, whispering softly, almost reverent. “Soon… she’ll know. Soon… she’ll understand there’s no escape. And by the time she does…” His smirk widened. “…she will want nothing else but me.”
The room was quiet again, but the shadows seemed to lean closer, conspiring with him. The trap had closed another notch. And he would enjoy every second of the waiting game.
Here’s that scene dialed up so Alec feels like a man cracking under pressure, and Mikhail feels like a predator savoring every word:
Alec stared at the floor, his breath shallow, a hollow pit forming in his chest. The future loomed over him like a shadow he couldn’t outrun. He swallowed hard, the sound loud in the still office. His voice shook when it finally came.
“W… what do I n-need to do?”
Mikhail’s eyes glittered, dark and triumphant. He rose slowly from his chair, every movement deliberate, like a predator stretching before the kill.
“That’s the right question, Garcia.” His voice was low, cold, and measured, each word slicing through the air. “First, you keep your mouth shut. No warnings. No clever little escape plans. You act normal. She stays oblivious.”
He walked around the desk, stopping just close enough for Alec to feel the weight of his presence. “Second… you start preparing her. You don’t tell her who. You don’t tell her why. You just make sure she’s in my orbit. She trusts you; use it. Make the introductions smooth.”
Mikhail tilted his head, the smirk returning. “Third… when the time comes, you bring her to me. Personally. No excuses.”
He leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper that felt like ice crawling along Alec’s spine. “You do this, she stays happy.” His eyes flicked back to the glowing screen, where Lily laughed softly, unaware of the storm circling her.
Mikhail straightened, long shadow stretching across the floor like a warning. “Now, Garcia… do you understand?”
Alec swallowed hard, chest tight, words coming out ragged. “Y-yes, Mr. Abramov.” He let out a shaky sigh, the weight of the world pressing on him. “May I… leave?”
Mikhail’s lips curved into a faint, cold smile. “Leave. But remember—every step you take from now on… is in my world. Don’t forget it.”
Alec nodded, throat tight, and rose, feeling the chill of the office linger on him long after the door shut behind him.
Meanwhile, Lily
The morning sun spilled across the living room, warming the soft hum of the quiet house. Lily laughed at something the maid said, the sound light and carefree, a bubble of joy untouched by the shadows she didn’t yet know were near.
She twirled in her chair, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, trying to ignore the gold lilies resting in the corner—gleaming faintly in the sunlight, almost as if they were alive. A small shiver ran down her spine, inexplicable, but she shook it off. “Silly,” she murmured, smiling at herself.
The phone rang. Startled, she jumped, heart fluttering. The maid, hovering nearby, answered first. Lily watched, curious, a twinge of unease settling in her chest. When the call ended, the maid looked at her nervously.
“Miss… it’s… just business.” the maid said.
Lily frowned but let it go, returning to the couch. Still, a whisper of tension lingered, an inkling she couldn’t name. Her fingers traced the edge of the golden lilies, almost hypnotized. They glinted in the light, unnatural in their perfection. Something about them felt… intentional. Deliberate. Watching.
And for the first time, a thought crept into her mind, tiny and fragile, like a shadow on sunlight: Is someone watching me?
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