by RuNyx
The cursor blinked five times before his – and she assumed it was a man – replied.
imreaper00: when the time comes
imreaper00: for now, use the keyword
nerdytechgoddess00: what will i find?
His reply was cryptic.
imreaper00: sources
Sources of what? Before he could disappear, there was one thing she absolutely needed to know.
nerdytechgoddess00: how did you bypass my security?
She waited and waited for his response but nothing came. Frustrated at not knowing that, she went back to the keywords and modified them – ‘tenebrae’ + ‘1990s’ + ‘missing girls’ + ‘mafia’ + ‘flesh trade’
It was with apprehension that she added the keyword, hoping against hope that this was a fluke and she wouldn’t find anything that pointed to anything like this. The families, to her knowledge, had never traded in the flesh. It didn’t make sense. This would access an entirely different part of the net, a darker part of the net that she’d never ventured to and it scared her slightly.
The search slowly loaded and a barrage of new information slammed her. Her eyes scanned through the data feverishly – girls gone missing, girls being auctioned, girls being sold, and so much more disturbing news that made her flesh crawl. However, none of the data talked about girls below the age of 10. The information, as disturbing as it was, didn’t have anything to do with the missing girls from Tenebrae.
Sighing, she pushed away from her laptop and got up from the couch, stretching out her muscles, giving herself distance to think about it. Walking to the window that overlooked the lake in the distance, Morana took in the house she would now be living in. It looked serene, almost peaceful. But the man who occupied it wasn’t. He wouldn’t be until the truth about his sister came to light.
There was a reason why the man online had wanted her to add ‘flesh trade’ on to the list of her keywords. If it wasn’t important, she doubted he would have gone to the trouble of tracking her down and getting in contact with her, whoever he was. He knew her name and he knew something about the girls.
A ping from her laptop made her take a quick look towards it. Going back to the couch, Morana sat down and saw all the results for the search she’d run. Fingers on the keypad, she browsed through the headlines, bylines, and any names at a breakneck pace, her sense of urgency increasing the deeper she went into it. Each piece of information had a certain username attached to it in the place of source.
The man had told her she would find sources.
Diligently getting to work, Morana filtered articles by the sources and allowed the system to accumulate it in sections. Ten seconds later, most of the articles sorted down under one source name – Distance Y.
What the hell was Distance Y?
Before she could follow that train of thought, a ping from one of her programs diverted her attention. Her customized facial recognition was complete. Pulling up the program, Morana didn’t find any hits on names but her software had found two other pictures of the man caught on public cameras, one in Shadow Port and one in South America. She sent the image to both Tristan and Dante’s numbers and waited for them to reply. They didn’t.
A low ache started to form right behind her eyebrows. Pulling off her glasses, Morana pressed the heel of her palms into her eyes, groaning in frustration at the way things were going. She had more questions than answers and every time she felt she was close to something substantial, it slipped through her fingers. Gritting her teeth in frustration, Morana stared at the ceiling for a long minute, contemplating her next course of action.
She made a call.
Tenebrae was a city blessed with natural beauty. Bisected by a long river that merged into the ocean a few hundreds of miles away, it was located right at the foot of some stunning hills that were peppered with beautiful lakes. Unlike the coastal, wet weather of Shadow Port, Tenebrae experienced all seasons – snow in the winters, sunny days in the summer, and the best fall in the country.
Looking at the browned leaves crunched under her new boots, Morana stood at the railing of the very public pier, holding the disposable coffee she’d bought from a vendor across the street. Her light beige jacket kept her warm enough that she didn’t feel the chill in the afternoon sun, hiding the small gun she’d taken from Dante’s, her hair pulled back into a braid she’d quickly put together in the car as Vin drove her. He was there somewhere, watching her back as Dante had instructed him to do. The silent man was soon becoming one of her favorite people.
The ferries crossing the river honked their horns, people buzzed around her, and Morana stood, alert and aware, waiting for the man she’d contacted to shed some light on her questions.
As though in answer to her thoughts, she heard the familiar, grave voice behind her, “Don’t turn.”
Though tempted, Morana refrained and simply nodded, keeping her eyes glued to the buildings in the distance on the other side of the river. She felt the man come into her periphery beside her, but couldn’t make anything out.
“I wish I could say nice to meet you,” Morana quipped.
“You want to know why I contacted you, Ms. Vitalio?” the man with the grave voice began.
Again, Morana nodded. Out of everything, she was most curious about this.
“You are key to a puzzle I’ve been trying to solve. I believe we can help each other out.”
“And how will I do that?” Morana asked, her voice calm as she kept her gaze focused straight.
“Find the information about what was happening here twenty years ago.”
“And what will I get in return?”
“Whatever answers you need.”
“And you will give me those in exchange?” Morana asked, confirming.
“Yes.”
Pondering on that for a second, Morana took a sip of her coffee. It was actually pretty good. “Why should I trust you?”
“You shouldn’t,” the man replied without hesitation. There was no inflection in his voice, nothing in his tone at all - just the grave baritone that spoke of experience far beyond her years. “But we’re on the same side for now, just looking for the truth.”
“What are your reasons for interest in the end of Alliance?”
“What are yours?” he shot back.
Morana felt her lips curl. “Alright, then. First question – how did you know someone was going to try and kill me?”
She saw the man lean his arms on the iron railing in her periphery and caught the dark clothes he was wearing. “Information is important in my line of work,” Mr. Grave casually elaborated. “Someone put a hit out on you, a pretty expensive hit if I might add. I just told you in goodwill.”
A baby cried somewhere on her left. Morana knew Vin was somewhere behind her as well.
“I appreciate you giving me a heads up,” Morana thanked the man.
“There’s no reason for you to be wary of me, Ms. Vitalio,” the man stated plainly. “I have nothing against you or The Predator. You’re his woman and I have no wish to make an enemy of him.”
His woman. Well, she was, wasn’t she?
Morana shook her head. “What’s Distance Y?”
The man beside her paused, “You got to them pretty quickly.”
She’d had help from someone. Was it this man? Before she could ask, he answered her. “It’s the Syndicate.”
It was an anagram. What the hell.
“What’s the Syndicate?” Morana asked, her confusion mounting. “Is it involved in why the girls went missing so many years ago?”
“You’re very smart,” the man complimented her, straightening. “Follow that lead. This is where I leave you. When you have information, contact me.”
Morana shook her head, her questions unanswered. “Are you the reaper guy? How did you get past my security?”
The man paused. She had a sense he was surprised. “No, Ms. Vitalio. I’m not. But thank you for what you just told me. It put quite a few things in place.”
Mo
rana waited for a beat, her heart slowly starting to pick up the pace. “What did I just tell you?”
“That he’s alive.”
Before Morana could ask anything else, the spot beside her was empty. She turned around in a circle, trying to find his retreating form but there were too many men in dark clothes and too many people milling about for her to place a man she’d not even seen properly. Shaking her head at herself, she gazed out at the river again, her heart settling with the one question that had been answered.
The girls who had gone missing were a much bigger problem than she’d anticipated. Whatever this Syndicate was, she needed to uncover it. And whoever this Reaper was, she needed to find him.
The sun was setting by the time Morana sat in the Range Rover Vin had driven her in. While she’d told Dante she could drive herself, the fact that it was a new city and she was an unwelcome Maroni guest had made her gladly accept the help she was getting. Vin was a nice guy so far, quiet but alert, and she liked his company.
In fact, she had told him about wanting to train a little more, especially in self-defense and surprisingly, he had offered to help her out “if you so wish”. She wished very much indeed. If nothing else, the hit on her had made her realize she couldn’t always rely on her luck to get her out of a hairy situation. Next time, there might not be a house she could run to, a safe space she could take refuge in. Starting tomorrow, she was going to make her muscles scream curses at her.
She watched as Vin navigated through the city traffic, through the honking cabs and pedestrian crossings, her eyes taking in a city so different from the one she grew up in, and not just weather-wise. Shadow Port was more laid back where Tenebrae was all hustle and bustle. They finally moved out of the central city area and headed towards the plush green hills where the Maroni mansion was nestled.
Bringing her phone out of the pocket, Morana opened the text she’d sent Tristan about the meeting, seeing it still hadn’t been read. After the night they’d spent together, the morning they’d had, she had expected him to have checked up on her at least once. That he hadn’t told her he was either too busy doing whatever he was doing or he simply hadn’t processed that he was now in a committed relationship. They’d have to talk about it.
The car ascended, turning with the curves of the hill as the city slowly dropped below, the river snaking through it in the distance. She had missed observing all of this the first time in her nervousness, her brain being focused only on its anxiety. This time, being more relaxed, she could take in the beauty and the spirit of this city and see why it had been a crown jewel for so many decades.
The wrought iron gates of the mansion opened automatically as they got closer to the top of the hill. Vin nodded at one of the guards at his station and in they went, the long driveway stretching, the huge rock-cut mansion as always reminding her of a castle buried in the woods of Scotland.
“Your luggage and packages have been moved to Mr. Caine’s wing,” Vin informed her as he stopped the car in front of the mansion. “You’ll find everything in the living room.”
Morana smiled, her heart warming at the thought. Though this didn’t feel like home to her yet, she was glad she was going to be with him. Thanking Vin for her time, she alighted from the car and saw Lorenzo Maroni watching her from his study window. She didn’t know if it was him who had tried to kill her or not but whatever the case, she wasn’t under his protection anymore.
Knowing it would piss him off, she gave him a cheerful wave and watched him frown. Lips curving, she turned and headed to the small cottage beside the lake in the distance, to the house of the man who had been kept to the fringes of this world.
It was dark and the lake seemed quiet, serene. The single-story cottage, built of stone and wood, was lit up. Walking up the porch steps, Morana twisted the knob and entered, the scent of cooking tomatoes and basil leaves wafting from the kitchen.
With a smile, she shrugged out of her jacket and entered the open living room to check on her stuff, only to come to a halt to find the pissed off man sitting on the couch, in his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his blue eyes on her. Why the hell was he angry?
“Well, hello to you too, my dear,” Morana said sweetly, draping her jacket on the arm of a chair, looking at her one suitcase and many boxes of her new wardrobe. “Thank you for checking up on me today, especially after last night.” Opening one box, Morana saw her unpacked accessories and kept talking. “It was so sweet of you. This morning was special to me too, and I’m so happy that it was special to you as well. My heart was warmed by-”
“Who was he?”
The soft question from right behind her broke her ramble. Morana turned around, to find him so close his exhale warmed her forehead. His eyes locked on hers, the fury in them a fire. But it wasn’t the anger that gave her pause. It was the slight hurt she could see in them, the one he was trying to hide by the clench of his jaw, which simmered down her own immediate anger.
Placing her hand over his heart, she felt the slightly escalated heartbeat under his palm.
“Are you jealous, Mr. Caine?” she asked softly, a slight smile on her lips.
Just as she’d expected, he closed the space between them. His hand went to the back of her head, wrapping her ponytail around his fist, tilting her head back. Tingles shot from her scalp down her spine, her nipples standing to attention as her pussy clenched. It amazed her how this man could simply breathe on her and her body would ready itself for him.
“Don’t fucking push me,” he muttered softly over her lips, his eyes still completely holding her captive. “You went to meet a strange man in a strange city without telling anyone about it. You talked to him and you came back in a fucking good mood. Who is he?”
“You do know you have nothing to be jealous about, right?” Morana asked reasonably.
He tugged her ponytail in answer, his other hand going to her ass and pulling her closer. “Who. Is. He?”
“I don’t know,” Morana replied honestly.
He paused. “You don’t know?”
She shook her head, stroking the hard muscle of his chest softly. “I wasn’t going to hide this from you. You just weren’t replying to my text so I thought I’d tell you after. We need to talk about that, by the way.”
“You went to meet a man you didn’t know?” he asked, disbelieving.
“He’d contacted me once before,” Morana clarified. His eyes darkened. She continued, unfazed. “He said he had some information and that’s why I met him. He did.”
Tristan leaned down, his lips hovering beside her ear, his scruff rubbing against the side of her cheek. “You’re not helping yourself.”
Morana rolled her eyes, her breaths escalating. “Calm down, caveman. You’re being an asshole.”
His lips made contact with her skin just below her ear, his tongue tasting her skin. “What I feel isn’t jealousy, wildcat.” His lips slid down the side of her neck, kissing the skin like he never had before. “It’s knowing you’re mine and knowing I still have to share you with people. It’s a burn in my chest. It makes me want to put you over my shoulder, take you to a cave, and fuck you until you forget everything but how I feel inside you.”
Breathing harshly, feeling his lips stop at her shoulder, Morana challenged him like she always did. “Why don’t you?”
Before she could take another breath, he had her backed against the wall, picking up her weight with one hand under ass. Morana grabbed his broad shoulders and wrapped her legs around his hips, feeling his cock press urgently between her spread legs.
Taking a hold of his shirt where it was open, Morana jerked on it, sending buttons flying as it ripped open, his chest and abs becoming visible to her. His hands tore down the fabric of her new top from her body until it gaped open in the middle, leaving her in just her bright pink lacy bra. She thought he would slow then, slide the straps of her bra down maybe. He didn’t. He just tore through the lace until her bra hung in tatters, her breasts exposed to his
eyes, her nipples hard like bullets. They felt heavy, aching.
And then, for the first time, his hands cupped them. Morana felt his touch in her pussy, her hips automatically grinding against him as her head tilted back, eyes closing.
“Eyes,” he uttered one raw demand, making her open her eyes and see him. They had denied this to each other before, denied each other so much before. But now it was slowly being bared, this new intimacy between them.
Locking her own hazel eyes with his electric blues, Morana gripped his hair at the back of his head, urging him on. His hands – big, rough, skilled – the same hands that had once wiped the blood off of her, squeezed her breasts together, his fingers skillfully plucking at her nipples, the pressure almost painful but so good her panties were a wet mess.
He ground his hips against her over their clothing, his cock almost bruising against her clit with such delicious pressure she felt her limbs tingling.
“Oh fuck,” she moaned, baring her throat to him, her pulse fluttering as her heart tried to keep up with her body.
“Give me your mouth,” she demanded and saw a flash of his dimple.
“Greedy little thing,” he murmured, still leaning back and watching her, his hands wreaking havoc on her breasts and nipples as he rhythmically started to fuck her over their clothes. “Say my name.”
“Tristan,” it escaped her on a whisper, her own hands exploring his bare chest. “Please.”
“Fuck,” he cursed, right before he slammed his mouth down on hers, his hips intensifying the pressure. The feel of his tongue sliding against hers, his hands pulling and kneading her breasts, his cock rolling against her aching core became too much for her. She crashed against the wave cresting inside her, her toes curling in her boots and her thighs tightening around his hips as her spine curved, her orgasm surprising her with its intensity. She felt him lose his rhythm as he groaned into her mouth, his hands leaving her breasts to go under her ass, grinding her pussy closer to him.