The hotel room was colder than usual. The curtains, drawn tightly, kept out the world, trapping the darkness inside. It wasn't just the absence of light that made the air thick with tension—it was something much deeper, something buried under layers of time, secrets, and power.
Robert Forton stood at the window, his broad shoulders tense, his gaze locked on the empty street below. The soft hum of the city seemed distant, almost as if it didn't belong to him anymore. It was the calm before the storm. He knew it, and so did the boy.
"Robert," the boy's voice broke through the silence, a low whisper, almost playful, yet it held an edge—a warning. "You know why we're here."
Robert didn't turn around. He kept his back to the boy, his jaw clenched. "I already know what you're going to say," he murmured, his voice carrying a weight that suggested something he'd been carrying for a long time.
The boy stepped closer, his boots clicking softly against the floor. The night had stretched on long enough, and this game—their game—was finally reaching its climax.
"You think I'm here for some twisted reason," the boy continued, his eyes scanning Robert's rigid form. "But this isn't just about me anymore. It's about everything. About the past."
Robert's entire body tensed at the mention of the past, but he didn't say anything. He couldn't. The memories were too much—too much to handle. The boy knew. They both knew.
The silence stretched, heavy, before the boy finally spoke again. "You really thought you could escape him, didn't you?"
Robert's fists clenched, and this time, he turned around. His eyes, once so cold and controlled, now betrayed a flicker of something darker—something that had been locked away for far too long.
"You don't know what you're talking about," Robert growled, his voice low and dangerous.
The boy smirked, stepping forward until he was inches from Robert. "You think I don't know?" He chuckled softly, his breath hot against Robert's skin. "Michel never left you. You thought you could bury him. Forget about him. But he's still here. He's coming back, Robert. He's coming for everything."
The name Michel hung in the air like a poison. Robert's face went pale as the boy said it. The name alone was enough to bring the darkness flooding back—memories of betrayal, violence, and things that Robert had buried so deep he thought they were gone forever.
"You're wrong," Robert bit out, his voice sharper now. "Michel's gone. He doesn't matter anymore."
But the boy knew. He always knew. "Is that what you told yourself all these years? That he was gone? That he was nothing more than a ghost?"
Robert's breath quickened, but he refused to let it show. "You don't understand. You weren't there."
The boy's eyes darkened, his voice dropping to a whisper, barely audible. "I don't need to be there. I know everything. I know how he played you. How he twisted you into something you didn't want to be."
A knock at the door broke the moment—the sound sharp and demanding.
The boy turned, a dangerous smile curling on his lips. "It's him," he said, almost to himself. "The one you've been running from."
Robert's eyes flashed with a mix of dread and rage. "Don't," he warned, his voice low. "Don't open that door."
But the boy was already moving. He stepped toward the door, his fingers trailing lightly along the edges of the smooth wood. He felt the tension building in the air—thick, suffocating—and he loved it. This was what he had been waiting for.
The boy opened the door with a slow, deliberate motion. Standing there, in the doorway, was a man who seemed to fill the space with his presence alone. Michel.
Michel had the same dark eyes Robert remembered—the kind that could cut through you, see every secret you tried to hide. His tall frame filled the doorway as he stepped inside, his movements smooth and confident. There was no hesitation in him, no fear. Just a dangerous calm that sent a shiver down Robert's spine.
Michel's lips curled into a smile, but it wasn't a kind one. It was a smile that promised pain, that promised destruction.
"Long time no see, Robert," Michel said, his voice a low drawl that made the hair on the back of Robert's neck stand up.
Robert took a step back, his whole body tense. "What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded, his voice shaking with a mixture of anger and fear.
Michel's eyes flickered toward the boy, who stood off to the side, watching with an amused expression. "It seems I'm not the only one you've been hiding from, huh?" Michel's gaze was sharp, cutting through Robert like a knife. "You thought you could keep me out of your life? That I wouldn't come looking for you?"
The boy stepped forward, standing between Robert and Michel now. "You can't escape him, Robert. You never could."
Michel's laugh was soft, almost like a whisper in the room. "That's right. He's mine, in every way. And now, it's time to collect what's owed."
Robert's eyes flicked between the boy and Michel, his heart racing. "You don't know what you're talking about," he said, his voice tight. "You think you can just waltz in here and claim everything? You're wrong."
Michel took a step closer, his gaze never leaving Robert. "You know I've waited a long time for this moment, Robert. A long time to settle things between us." He reached out, placing his hand lightly on Robert's chest, feeling the frantic beat of his heart beneath his fingers. "But tonight, I'm not here to talk about the past. Tonight, I'm here for something much more... personal."
Robert's breath hitched as Michel's hand slid down to his abdomen, stopping just above his waistband. Michel's touch was so light, so teasing, yet it felt like fire on his skin.
"You can't have me," Robert whispered, his voice breaking slightly. "I'm not yours anymore."
Michel smiled, a dark, twisted grin that made Robert's blood run cold. "That's what you think," he said softly. "But I've always had you. And I always will."
The boy watched in silence, his heart pounding in anticipation. This was the moment he had been waiting for—the moment when everything, everyone, would be pushed to the edge.
Robert's chest rose and fell with ragged breaths. His eyes were wide with a mixture of fear and anger, but there was no escape. Michel was here, and there was nothing Robert could do to stop him.
"I told you," Michel whispered, his breath hot against Robert's ear. "You'll always be mine. You'll always belong to me."
The boy smirked, watching the two men. He knew this was the beginning of something far darker than anything they had ever faced before. The lines between power, obsession, and control were about to blur, and no one would walk away unchanged.
To be continue