The Gilded Bean was louder than usual. The morning rush was a blur of steam, clinking spoons, and the smell of roasted beans. I was moving on autopilot, my mind still stuck in that dark penthouse, replaying the way Julian's hand felt on my jaw.
"One oat milk latte! Large!" I shouted, sliding the cup across the counter.
"You look like you're thinking about a crime, Little Shadow."
The voice wasn't Julian's. It was lighter, higher, and laced with a kind of playfulness that made the hair on my arms stand up.
I looked up. Standing at the counter was a man who looked like a twisted reflection of Julian. He had the same sharp jawline and the same dark hair, but his eyes weren't ice-blue. They were a restless, stormy grey. He wore a leather jacket over a designer t-shirt, looking more like a rockstar than a businessman.
"I'm sorry?" I asked, my heart skipping a beat. Did he just call me Little Shadow?
The man leaned against the counter, flashing a wolfish grin. "The look on your face. You look like you're plotting to murder someone. Or maybe you're just incredibly bored."
"Just a latte, please," I said, trying to regain my professional mask.
"I'm Silas," he said, ignoring my prompt. He reached out and tapped the nametag on my apron. "And you're Kira. That's a beautiful name for a girl who looks so miserable."
Silas. My blood ran cold. Julian's brother. The one the tabloids called the "Black Sheep of the Thorne Empire."
"I'm just a barista, Mr. Thorne," I said, keeping my voice flat. "What can I get you?"
Silas chuckled, and the sound was chilling. "Oh, you know who I am. That's good. Most people in this city know the Thornes. Usually because we've taken something from them."
He leaned in closer, dropping his voice. "My brother Julian, for example. He's a collector, isn't he? He likes to find broken things and see if he can make them move again. Is that what you are, Kira? One of Julian's projects?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," I hissed, leaning back.
"Don't you? He comes here every morning. He stares at you like you're a piece of sheet music he's trying to memorize. It's quite pathetic, really. Julian doesn't have a heart, but he has a very expensive set of obsessions."
I felt a sudden, heavy presence behind Silas. The air in the shop seemed to thicken, turning cold enough to frost the windows.
"Silas."
The word was a low, vibrating warning.
M
Julian was standing three feet behind his brother. He wasn't alone; his usual security team was with him, but Julian's eyes were fixed solely on Silas. His expression was a mask of pure, murderous stone.
Silas turned around, his grin widening. "Brother! I was just telling Kira here how much you appreciate the service in this shop. You're becoming a regular."
"Leave," Julian said. It wasn't a request. It was an order from a King to a peasant.
"I haven't even gotten my drink," Silas pouted, though his eyes were dancing with malice. He turned back to me and winked. "See you around, Kira. I have a feeling we're going to be seeing a lot of each other."
Silas strolled out of the shop, whistling a tune that sounded hauntingly familiar—it was a fragment of the Chopin piece I had played for Julian the night before.
My hands began to shake. How did Silas know that music
Julian stepped up to the counter. He didn't look at Silas's retreating back. He looked at me. His jaw was clenched so tight I thought his teeth might break.
"Did he touch you?" Julian asked. His voice was so low it was almost a growl.
"No," I whispered.
"What did he say to you?"
"He… he just ordered a drink. Julian, why was he whistling that song?"
Julian's eyes flickered with a brief, sharp flash of alarm before his mask settled back into place. "Silas is a parasite. He feeds on information he shouldn't have. Stay away from him, Kira. If he comes near you again, you call the number I gave you."
"Why do you care?" I snapped, my fear turning into a brief spark of defiance. "I'm just a debt to you, remember? A 'Shadow' in your penthouse."
Julian leaned over the counter, his face inches from mine. In the bright morning light, I could see the tiny gold flecks in his blue eyes. He looked like he wanted to kiss me and strangle me at the same time.
"You are my debt," Julian hissed. "And I don't like other people touching my property."
He reached out, his hand hovering near my cheek for a second before he pulled it back, curling it into a fist.
"Go to the back," Julian ordered. "Take your break. Now."
I didn't argue. I turned and fled into the storage room, my chest heaving. I could hear Julian speaking to my manager in a sharp, demanding tone.
I sat on a crate of milk cartons, my head in my hands. Silas knew. He knew about the night sessions. He was using me to get to Julian, and Julian was reacting like a man who was losing his grip on his most precious secret.
I looked at my phone. It was almost noon. Only twelve hours until I had to go back into the dark.
But for the first time, the darkness didn't feel like the dangerous part. The danger was right here, in the light, where the Thorne brothers were beginning a war—and I was the battlefield.
Outside, I heard a car door slam and the screech of tires. Julian was gone.
I stood up and walked to the small, dirty window of the storage room that faced the street. I saw Julian's black SUV pulling away.
But across the street, leaning against a lamp post, was Silas.
He saw me through the glass.
He didn't wave. He just tapped his watch, mouthed the word Midnight, and disappeared into the crowd.
My heart didn't just race; it stopped.
The Night Clause was supposed to be a secret. But the Devil's brother was counting down the minutes, and I realized that tonight, the "Ice King" wasn't the only one waiting for me in the shadows.