The morning sun struggled to pierce through the grime of the city streets, casting a pale, gray light into Sofia's small apartment. Zara was already in the kitchen, the smell of burnt toast and cheap coffee filling the air. It was a normal morning—or at least, it was supposed to be.
"Sofia! Someone left something for you at the door!" Zara called out, her voice muffled by a mouthful of toast.
Sofia limped slightly to the entryway, her heart skipping a beat. A large, overflowing bouquet of white lilies sat on the floor. They were beautiful, their petals pristine and waxy, looking exactly like the ones Alfred had filled the mansion with during their date.
"He couldn't even wait twenty-four hours," Zara teased, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. "I guess the big bad wolf is a romantic after all. Is there a note?"
Sofia searched through the green stems, her fingers trembling. There was no card, no name, only a small, elegant silk ribbon tied in a knot. A soft smile touched her lips. She thought of Alfred's tired eyes from the night he returned and the way he had watched her sleep.
"They're beautiful," Sofia whispered. She leaned down, burying her face in the thick, fragrant petals to take a deep breath of her favorite scent.
But as she inhaled, the sweet smell of lilies was replaced by something sharp, chemical, and cloying. It hit the back of her throat like a physical blow. Her head began to spin instantly, the room tilting at a violent angle.
"Sofia? What's wrong?" Zara's voice sounded like it was coming from underwater.
Sofia tried to speak, but her knees buckled. The world turned into a blur of gray and white. She saw Zara rushing toward her, her mouth open in a silent scream, before everything went pitch black.
The bouquet fell to the floor, scattering white petals over Sofia's unconscious body. Tucked deep inside the center of the flowers, hidden where no one would see it unless they took the bouquet apart, was a small, jagged piece of paper with a single word scrawled in messy, angry ink:
"FOUND YOU." — Alex
Alex hadn't run away. He had watched from the shadows of the docks, nursing his bruised throat and his shattered pride. He knew Alfred would never let Sofia go unless he had to—and he knew that the moment she stepped outside those mansion gates, she was no longer under the protection of the king's army.
He didn't want to kill her yet. He wanted to use her to break Alfred once and for all.
The mansion was silent—a cold, dead silence that had settled into the walls the moment Sofia walked out the door. Alfred sat in his darkened study, a glass of untouched scotch on the desk and his head buried in his hands. He was replayng the look in her eyes as she said goodbye, over and over again, until it felt like a physical wound.
Suddenly, his phone shrieked on the mahogany surface. It was Max.
"Alfred," Max's voice was jagged, breathless. "The tracking team just pinged the apartment. The neighbors reported a struggle. The door was kicked in, and the scent of sedative is still in the air. Sofia and Zara... they're gone."
Alfred didn't scream. He didn't throw his glass. He stood up with a slow, terrifying calmness that was far more dangerous than any shout. The glass of scotch shattered in his grip, the liquid mixing with the blood from his palm, but he didn't even flinch.
"Alex," Alfred whispered, the name sounding like a death sentence. "I gave him his life, and he used it to steal mine."
He strode out of the study, his voice booming through the hallways, summoning every guard, every driver, and every weapon in his arsenal. "Get the cars! Block every exit from the city! If a single bird flies out of this district, I want it shot down!"
Max met him at the garage, his face pale. "We found a bouquet of lilies at the scene, Alfred. They were laced with a concentrated neurotoxin. He used her favorite flower against her."
Alfred stopped mid-stride, his eyes turning into voids of black ice. He remembered the way Sofia had smiled when she saw the lilies in his conservatory. He remembered her telling him she loved them because they smelled like "hope." Now, that hope had been turned into a weapon.
"He won't kill her," Alfred said, his voice a low, vibrating growl as he climbed into the driver's seat of his black SUV. "He wants me to watch him do it. He wants to lure me into a trap where he can take my head in front of her."
"What's the plan?" Max asked, checking his sidearm.
Alfred slammed the car into gear, the engine roaring like a wounded beast. "There is no plan, Max. There is only a massacre. I showed him mercy once for Sofia's sake. Now, I'm going to show him why they call me the King of the Underworld."
The convoy of black vehicles tore through the city streets, ignoring red lights and sirens. Alfred drove with a manic focus, his heart a drumbeat of guilt and fury. He had let her go to keep her "safe" from his world, and in doing so, he had handed her right to his greatest enemy.
"I'm coming, Sofia," he muttered, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. "And this time, I'm burning the whole world down to get you back."
The world returned to Sofia in fragments—the stinging scent of damp concrete, the distant drip of water, and a rhythmic, pounding ache in her temples. When she finally forced her eyes open, the darkness was nearly absolute, save for a single, flickering bulb hanging from a frayed wire above.
She tried to move her hands to rub her eyes, but a sharp clink of metal stopped her. Her wrists were bound by heavy iron chains to a rusted pipe behind her.
"Zara?" Sofia croaked, her throat feeling like it was filled with glass.
"I'm here, Sof," a weak voice answered from the shadows to her left. Zara was slumped against the wall, her face pale and her clothes stained with dust, but her eyes were wide with terror. "We're in some kind of basement. I tried to kick the door, but it's solid steel."
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