Chapter 2 — Shadows of the Past
Third Person
The rain streaked the windows of Vivienne Laurent’s penthouse office, a symphony of soft drumming against the glass. It was a sound she might have found soothing on another night. Tonight, it pressed against the edges of her composure, a steady reminder of the chaos she fought to suppress. She stood motionless before the sprawling view of the city, its lights glittering like a constellation captured in steel and glass. Her reflection hovered in the rain-slick glass—sharp gray eyes, high and unyielding cheekbones, and the faint glint of her Obsidian Moon Pendant resting just above the collar of her charcoal blazer.
Her fingers rose to the pendant, brushing its smooth surface. The faint shimmer of its runes pulsed under her touch, almost imperceptibly, as though responding to the turmoil beneath her polished exterior. She adjusted the lapel of her blazer in a precise motion, as if the gesture could smooth the cracks forming within her.
The memories came unbidden, slipping through the cracks of her iron control. Tonight, it was the scent of rain—clean, earthy, alive. The same scent had clung to the air that night.
Her eyes drifted closed as the city view dissolved into the shadowed canopy of Silverwood Preserve. Towering evergreens loomed above her, their needles muffling her frantic steps through the underbrush. The cool, damp air clung to her skin, mingling with the metallic tang of blood. She remembered the growl—low, guttural, predatory. The flash of silver-streaked fur. The searing pain that tore through her shoulder as fangs sank deep into her flesh.
Her breath hitched, and her fingers curled into tight fists, nails digging into her palms. She could still feel the heat of her own blood and the primal, unrelenting fear that had gripped her. That bite had been the beginning of the end. Or so she’d thought.
Her family’s horrified faces rose unbidden: her mother’s trembling hands clutching a rosary, the beads clicking faintly as though the act of prayer might ward off the truth. Her father’s cold, stony silence, his gaze fixed on the floor. Her brother’s averted eyes, his shoulders stiff with shame. Her mother’s voice, brittle yet unyielding, echoed in her mind: “You are not our daughter anymore.”
They hadn’t given her a chance to explain. The Laurent name, they’d said, could not be tarnished by such a… monstrosity.
She’d learned quickly that the world had no room for monsters. So, she’d built her own place within it.
Her eyes snapped open, her reflection once again meeting her gaze. Her fingers pressed harder against the pendant, the runes flickering faintly as if to steady her. Human and wolf. Control and chaos. Strength and fear. The pendant had been a gift to herself, a talisman to anchor her in a world that would never accept her whole.
But survival wasn’t enough anymore. She wanted more. Needed more. And that desire, sharp and unfamiliar, terrified her.
The soft chime of her desk intercom broke through the quiet, snapping her back to the present. She blinked, releasing the pendant and straightening her posture. “Ms. Laurent,” Izzy’s voice crackled through the speaker, warm and efficient as ever. “Marcus has sent over the final security protocols for tomorrow’s Vanguard AI launch. He said he’d like you to review them personally before the team meeting at nine.”
“Thank you, Isabelle,” Vivienne replied, her tone clipped but not unkind. She hesitated for a fraction of a second, then added, “Forward them to my tablet. I will review them tonight.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Izzy said, the warmth in her voice unwavering. There was a brief pause before she added, “And, if I may, don’t forget to take a break. You’ve been working nonstop.”
Vivienne’s lips quirked into the barest hint of a smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Noted. Goodnight, Isabelle.”
“Goodnight, ma’am,” Izzy replied, and the intercom clicked off.
Vivienne crossed the room to her desk, the sharp staccato of her heels on the polished floor echoing in the otherwise silent space. She picked up the sleek, black tablet lying on the surface, its screen lighting up with a series of notifications. As she swiped through the files, her mind shifted gears, focusing on the intricacies of the Vanguard launch.
The stakes were high. The Vanguard AI Suite wasn’t just a product; it was a statement, a testament to her company’s dominance and her own unyielding control. But now, with Hayes Co.’s Horizon AI platform entering the fray, that dominance was under threat. She couldn’t afford even the smallest misstep.
Declan Hayes. The name alone set her teeth on edge. She could still see the way he’d looked at her earlier that evening at the gala—roguish charm and disarming confidence wrapped in a perfectly tailored suit. His smile lingered in her memory, sharp and knowing, as though he’d seen more of her than she’d meant to reveal.
She hated that he’d unsettled her. Hated even more that the feeling still lingered.
Vivienne set the tablet down with a sharp exhale, her hand trembling briefly before she steadied it. Pacing was undignified, she reminded herself. Instead, she crossed to the sideboard and poured herself a glass of bourbon. The amber liquid caught the dim light as it swirled in the crystal tumbler. She took a measured sip, letting the warmth spread through her, grounding her.
Control was fragile. But she would not let it slip—not now, not ever.
---
Across town, in the dimly lit confines of his office at Hayes Co. headquarters, Declan Hayes leaned back in his chair, a tumbler of whiskey balanced in his hand. The room was a study in contrasts—neoclassical architecture softened by modern touches: sleek monitors glowing on the desk, a small potted plant in the corner, and a framed photograph of his childhood home on the mantel. The faint scent of aged paper and polished brass mingled with the sharper bite of the whiskey.
On his desk lay the Hunter’s Compass. Its brass casing gleamed faintly in the low light, intricate engravings catching the glow. The needle was still, inert, as it had been for years.
He hesitated before reaching for it, his hand hovering over the relic for a moment too long. When he finally picked it up, the metal was cool against his skin, heavier than he remembered. As his thumb traced the swirling patterns, old instincts stirred—sharp, unbidden memories of late nights stalking shadows and the thrill of a hunt.
Back then, he’d thought the compass was a tool of justice. Now, it felt like a chain.
It wasn’t just the gala that had resurfaced old doubts. It was her. Vivienne Laurent. The way she’d looked at him—sharp and unyielding, her eyes like a storm about to break. And the way she hadn’t looked at him, as though afraid of what he might see.
Curiosity gnawed at him, mingling with suspicion. And something else. Something he wasn’t ready to name.
He set the compass down abruptly, as though the act of holding it had burned him. Rubbing a hand over his face, he let out a low sigh. His family’s legacy had never been easy to carry, but tonight, it felt especially heavy. Protectors, they called themselves. Hunters. The line between the two had always been blurry.
He thought of Gideon, the way his cousin’s eyes had burned with resentment the last time they’d spoken. Gideon had never forgiven him for leaving, for turning his back on the family’s mission. Declan hadn’t entirely forgiven himself either. But he couldn’t go back. Not after everything he’d seen. Not after everything he’d done.
And yet, here he was, staring at the compass as if it held answers. As if it could tell him what to do about Vivienne Laurent and the gnawing feeling in his gut that she was more than she seemed.
He took another slow sip of whiskey, the burn doing little to chase away the unease coiling in his chest. Tomorrow, the battle would begin in earnest—Hayes Co. versus Lucent Tower, Horizon AI versus Vanguard AI. But Declan couldn’t shake the feeling that the real fight, the one that mattered, was still waiting in the shadows.
Somehow, he knew Vivienne was at the center of it.
