Chapter 19: Enzo's journey outside
The hum of the city outside barely registered in Enzo's mind as he adjusted his grip on the black tool bag. The slight weight in his palm was familiar, but its contents weren't tools—at least, not the kind expected of an electrician. He tilted his head slightly, glancing at his reflection in the glass doors of Kennett Industries.
A crisp, dark blue jumpsuit. A nametag clipped onto his chest. "Marcus Fisher." An alias, but one he'd slip into effortlessly.
The air smelled of money. Polished floors, artificial lighting designed to make everything look sleeker, grander. Places like these didn't appreciate disruptions, and Enzo had no intention of making a mess—unless he had to.
Stepping inside, he moved with the ease of someone who belonged, his strides measured, not too slow, not too fast. The receptionist barely spared him a glance before plastering on a professional smile.
"Good morning, sir. How can I help you?"
Her voice was light, polite. There was no suspicion in her eyes. Why would there be? To her, he was just another worker, another nameless presence passing through.
Enzo didn't hesitate. "Got a work order for a power issue on the fifth floor. Shouldn't take long."
The receptionist's fingers danced over the keyboard, checking the system. "Name?"
"Marcus Fisher."
A few more clicks. Then, a nod. "Fifth floor, room 512. Head on up."
He returned the nod, stepping away before she could study him too closely. He didn't rush to the elevators. That would attract attention. Instead, he maintained an air of casual professionalism, as if this were just another day on the job.
Inside the elevator, he leaned against the cool metal, letting his mind sharpen. Sam's witches had outdone themselves. The talisman pressed against his chest pulsed with subtle energy, its power woven into his very being. He was still human—his heart beat, his lungs filled with air—but his body… it was different. Stronger. Sharper. His movements held the strength and speed of a century-old vampire, but none of the monstrous cravings.
The elevator dinged softly. Fifth floor.
Stepping out, he found himself in a long corridor lined with glass offices. The kind where people sat in expensive chairs, pretending they weren't prisoners of their own making.
Room 512.
The door was closed, but a soft glow seeped from the frosted glass. She was inside.
Enzo took a breath, rolling his shoulders before knocking once. A light, professional tap.
"Come in."
Lucy Bennett's voice was smooth, controlled.
He pushed the door open, stepping inside with the confidence of a man who belonged. The office was large, minimalist. Floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the room in soft daylight. A sleek desk sat in the middle, organized but lived-in. Papers, a laptop, a small potted plant. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air.
Behind the desk, Lucy stood, one hand resting on the surface as she watched him.
She was stunning in an effortless way. Warm cocoa-brown skin, sharp almond eyes that missed nothing. She held herself with the kind of composure that came from years of practice, the kind of power that didn't need to be announced.
"The electrician." She tilted her head slightly. "Didn't expect them to send someone so… prompt."
Enzo offered a polite smile, shifting the tool bag in his grip. "Best to deal with these things quickly. No one likes a blackout in the middle of work."
Lucy studied him for a moment longer, then gestured to the far corner of the room. "Circuit box is over there."
Enzo moved smoothly, setting his bag down before crouching beside the panel. He could feel her eyes on him, assessing. She didn't trust easily. That much was clear.
He worked in silence, pretending to inspect the circuits, letting the seconds stretch. The energy in the room shifted, subtle but unmistakable.
Then, without warning, a wave of magic crackled through the air.
Fast. Sudden.
Enzo moved before he had time to think, his body reacting on pure instinct. One second, he was kneeling; the next, he was across the room, avoiding the invisible force that slammed into the space he'd just occupied.
Lucy stood where she had been, but her presence had changed.
In her hand, a talisman pulsed with raw energy, a shimmering shield wrapping around her body. She wasn't caught off guard. She had expected something.
Enzo exhaled through his nose, straightening to his full height. "And here I thought this would be civil."
Lucy's expression remained unreadable, but her grip on the talisman tightened. "Who are you really?"
A slow smile tugged at Enzo's lips. He lifted his hands slightly, a silent relax. "I told you. Just a worker. Fixing a problem."
Lucy's lips pressed into a thin line. "Then why are you still standing?"
Ah. Right. The spell. It should have incapacitated him. Stunned him. Maybe even sent him flying across the room.
Instead, he hadn't even felt it.
Enzo rolled his shoulders, feeling the power hum beneath his skin. The talisman Sam had given him wasn't just keeping him alive. It had rewritten the rules. He was faster. Stronger. The kind of strength that came from experience, not blood.
Lucy's eyes flickered with understanding.
"Witch-made," she murmured, realization dawning.
Enzo smirked. "You're sharp."
She didn't hesitate. With a flick of her wrist, she sent another pulse of magic his way. It moved like a shockwave, meant to knock him off balance.
Enzo blurred out of the way, the motion effortless. His body responded like it had been doing this for centuries. The moment his feet hit the ground again, he closed the distance between them in a breath, reaching for her wrist.
Lucy was fast, but he was faster.
He caught her, twisting just enough to make her drop the talisman.
It clattered against the desk.
Lucy's body tensed, but she didn't fight. She wasn't panicking. No, she was waiting. Calculating.
Enzo leaned in slightly, his voice low. "Here's the thing. I don't want to hurt you. But I need something. And I need you to listen."
Her jaw tightened.
He sighed. "Look, I get it. You're powerful. Smart. You don't scare easy." He tilted his head slightly. "But neither do I."
Lucy's gaze burned into his, a silent battle of wills.
Then—she moved.
A subtle shift. A flicker of energy.
Enzo caught it too late.
The air pulsed—sharp, like static before a storm. His body tensed as the energy slammed into him, forcing him to release her.
Lucy didn't waste the opening. She grabbed the talisman from the desk, stepping back, putting distance between them.
The magic wrapped around her again, stronger this time.
Enzo exhaled slowly, shaking off the lingering tension in his limbs. His heart was steady. His breath even.
Lucy straightened, her expression unreadable. "You're not normal."
He grinned. "Neither are you."
The tension between them didn't break. It simply shifted, settling into something sharper.
Lucy's fingers curled around the talisman, the glow pulsating. She wasn't backing down.
Enzo flexed his hands, rolling his shoulders. He wasn't leaving without what he came for.
The stand-off had just begun.
Enzo moved before she could react, his body a blur of practiced efficiency. One precise strike to a pressure point, and Lucy's eyes widened in brief surprise before her body went limp. He caught her easily, lowering her onto the floor with the same care one might use to set down a fragile piece of glass. No hesitation. No wasted movement. Just pure control.
He exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as he straightened. The faint hum of electricity in the air had yet to settle, the remnants of her magic still lingering in the space between them.
His gaze swept the office, sharp and methodical. The laptop sat open on her desk, its screen casting a soft glow against the polished wood.
There.
Moving swiftly, he reached into his tool bag, pulling out a small USB drive—a parting gift from Sam's more technologically inclined associates. With a quiet click, he inserted it into the laptop's port, watching as the transfer began. The screen flickered, lines of encrypted code flashing as the drive did its work.
Enzo kept his ears trained on the hallway, every muscle poised for movement. He didn't trust the silence. A place like Kennett Industries didn't leave things unguarded.
Each second dragged, stretching time thin. He could hear the hum of the air conditioning, the distant murmur of voices in offices beyond the frosted glass. But no footsteps. No alarms.
A flicker of green on the USB. The transfer was complete.
Enzo pulled it free, tucking it into his pocket. His eyes flickered back to Lucy's unconscious form.
She would wake up soon. Probably with a headache. Definitely pissed.
But she was alive. And that was more than most people got.
His jaw tensed slightly at the thought, but he pushed it aside, moving with quick precision as he gathered her into his arms. She was light, her frame delicate yet coiled with the strength of someone who knew how to fight. He adjusted his grip, making sure she was secure before striding toward the door.
The hallway remained empty. Good.
Moving with practiced ease, he maneuvered through the corridors, taking the service exit to avoid unwanted attention. The cool air of the parking lot greeted him as he stepped outside, the scent of rain lingering from an earlier storm.
His car sat in the shadows, sleek and predatory—a black vintage Ford Mustang, all muscle and stolen history. The leather seats had once belonged to a very rich, very smug Hollywood actor who had learned—fatally—that Enzo didn't take well to arrogance.
He opened the passenger door, settling Lucy inside before circling to the driver's side.
The engine rumbled to life with a low, guttural growl, a sound that sent vibrations through the steering wheel.
The city lights bled into the darkness, neon flickers reflected in the Mustang's windshield. He weaved through the streets, slipping into the quiet backroads that led toward the outskirts.
The Pickett Mausoleum.
The road stretched ahead, empty save for the rhythmic pulse of the Mustang's tires against asphalt.
Lucy remained unconscious in his trunk
Enzo's fingers tapped idly against the wheel, his mind already calculating the next step.
Tonight wasn't over.
Not by a long shot.