Chapter two: Into the SUV

Chapter Two – Into the SUV

POV: Levi

The SUV smelled of leather, damp wool, and something sharp beneath it—gun oil, acrid and metallic. Levi’s chest rose and fell in shallow bursts, lungs still rattled from the blow that had folded him in half. His wrists ached, pinched tight by the plastic restraint, and the slick rainwater dripping from his hair stung his eyes.

The city outside blurred into streaks of color through the tinted glass. He pressed his shoulder against the cold door, forcing distance between himself and the man holding him down.

“I told you,” Levi rasped, voice cracked, “I’m not Adrian.”

The man beside him didn’t look. His jaw clenched, one hand heavy on Levi’s chest like an anchor. “Quiet.”

Panic surged, hot and electric. His twin’s name still echoed in his ears—Adrian. Always Adrian. The reckless one, the vanisher, the shadow who returned only to leave destruction in his wake. And now Levi was paying for it.

He tried again. “You’ve made a mistake. Please. I’m Levi.”

The second man in the passenger seat chuckled without humor. “That’s a new one. He thinks lying saves him.”

The driver didn’t speak, eyes fixed on the rain-slick road, but the way his fingers drummed once on the wheel told Levi everything—none of them cared who he claimed to be.

His throat dried, the words clawing anyway. “Adrian’s my brother. My twin. You want him, not me.”

The man’s grip tightened, a warning pressed into bone. “Say another word, and I’ll shut you up myself.”

Levi swallowed it down, his pulse a drumbeat against the restraint. Silence thickened, broken only by the steady rhythm of rain and the low hum of tires slicing through water. The SUV turned sharply, heading deeper into parts of the city Levi didn’t know—industrial blocks, warehouses hollowed and abandoned, shadows stacked on shadows.

He tried to memorize turns, landmarks, anything—but each street looked the same, blurred and unwelcoming. Hopelessness crept in, a colder ache than the bruises spreading across his ribs.

Minutes dragged.

The passenger adjusted his earpiece, voice low. “Package secured. On route.”

Package.

Levi’s stomach turned. He wasn’t a man to them. Not even a name. Just something to be delivered.

He stared at the rain sliding down the window, tried to steady the panic clawing at his chest. Think. Survive.

Adrian would’ve laughed in the face of danger, slick words and sharper fists carrying him through. Levi wasn’t Adrian. He never wanted to be. He had a quiet life, a steady one—books, libraries, the rustle of pages, the clean certainty of order. He’d chosen silence because silence didn’t break you.

But silence hadn’t saved him tonight.

The SUV slowed. Ahead, iron gates loomed from the darkness, tall enough to blot out the sky. They shuddered once, then swung open as though invisible hands waited to receive them.

Beyond stretched a long, winding drive, lined with wet trees whose branches clawed against the storm. At its end rose a house—or no, not a house. A fortress wrapped in opulence. Gothic arches. Balconies dripping with wrought iron. Windows glowing gold against the rain, like the eyes of some predator.

The SUV rolled to a stop before the main doors. Two guards stood waiting, silhouettes sharp against the floodlights.

“Out,” his captor barked.

Hands yanked him from the vehicle, boots scraping over gravel. Levi stumbled, wrists burning as he was dragged forward. The rain soaked him to the bone, his shirt plastered against his skin, his teeth chattering as much from fear as from cold.

The doors swung open. Warmth and golden light spilled across the entry, pooling on the marble floor beyond. For a moment, the contrast was blinding.

Then he saw him.

The man standing at the center of the hall.

Tall. Composed. A black suit cut like a blade, shoulders broad enough to command the space without effort. His dark hair gleamed under the chandelier’s light, his jaw sharp, his eyes steady—too steady.

Every instinct screamed at Levi to look away, but his gaze locked, trapped in that silence. The world seemed to narrow to the single point of the man’s stare.

The guards pushed him forward. He stumbled to his knees on the marble, the sound echoing like a gunshot.

The man stepped closer. Slow, deliberate.

“Welcome home, Adrian.”

The words slithered through the air, soft but final.

Levi’s head jerked. “No—I’m not Adrian. I’m Levi. You’ve made a mistake.”

For the first time, the man’s expression shifted—just faintly, the corner of his mouth curving, not amusement but something heavier, unreadable.

“Levi,” he repeated, tasting the name like a new weapon.

He crouched, bringing himself level, the rich scent of his cologne—smoke, cedar, something darker—curling around Levi’s senses until escape was impossible.

“Names,” the man murmured, gaze cutting through him, “can be lies. But eyes—” He tilted Levi’s chin upward with two gloved fingers, forcing him to meet that storm-dark stare. “Eyes never lie.”

Levi tried to wrench free, breath rasping. “I’m not who you think I am.”

The man’s lips brushed close enough to stir the damp strands of Levi’s hair. His voice sank lower, silk over steel. “Then prove it.”

The guards shifted at the edge of his vision, shadows waiting. The marble was cold beneath his knees, but the heat of the man’s presence burned hotter.

Levi’s heartbeat thundered, echoing in his skull. There was no logic here, no reason—only the unshakable weight of power pressing down.

The man—whoever he was, king or monster—didn’t release his chin. His thumb brushed once against Levi’s jaw, as though testing its strength, its resistance.

“I’ve been patient,” he said. “But my patience ends tonight.”

Levi’s mouth went dry. “What do you want from me?”

The man’s smile was sharp enough to cut. “Everything.”