Chapter 7
Emily Windsor's POV
The fleeting triumph of dismissing Julie didn't last long. The moment the office door closed, I felt all the strength drain from my body, collapsing into my chair like a puppet with cut strings.
Outside the window, dusk deepened into night. I rubbed my throbbing temples and decided to head home.
Stepping out of the law firm's building, the evening breeze carried a sharp chill. I instinctively pulled my coat tighter around myself.
I started the car and merged into traffic. Through the rearview mirror, I caught a glimpse of a black sedan trailing behind—not too close, not too far. At first, I didn't think much of it. But after making two consecutive turns, even deliberately taking a longer route, the car remained there like a phantom, maintaining that perfectly calculated distance.
A cold sensation of being watched crawled up my spine.
My heartbeat spiraled out of control. My palms, gripping the steering wheel, grew slick with sweat.
Was it someone Jacob sent? Or… the Victor family?
Luke's devastatingly handsome yet dangerous face flashed through my mind.
I pulled into my apartment building's underground parking garage, deliberately choosing a spot near the elevator entrance.
The black sedan rolled in after me, stopping in the shadows not far away. The engine didn't cut off. Its windows were tinted too dark to see inside, but I could feel that gaze—piercing through everything, pinning me in place.
I forced myself to stay composed as I grabbed my bag and got out. The sharp click of my heels against the concrete echoed through the cavernous space, amplifying my inner panic.
I quickened my pace, nearly running toward the elevator.
Just as I was about to press the button, a dark figure lunged from behind a support pillar, grabbing my arm. A blade glinted in the dim light, pressed against my side.
"Give me the bag! Don't make a sound!" A rough voice rasped in my ear, reeking of alcohol and greed.
Every drop of blood in my veins froze. My mind went blank.
The terror of death seized my throat, strangling even the scream that tried to escape.
Just when I thought I'd end up like my grandmother—dying senselessly in the dark—a gust of wind sliced past me.
I heard a muffled grunt. The grip on my arm vanished. In the next instant, the mugger was kicked to the ground, his knife clattering across the concrete with a piercing screech.
I looked up, still trembling from shock, and saw a man in a black jacket standing over the attacker. One boot pinned the mugger's wrist to the ground with such force that the man let out a pig-like squeal.
The stranger moved with ruthless efficiency, his eyes cold and devoid of emotion—as if he were merely disposing of trash.
It was him.
The man who'd been following me.
He finished dealing with the mugger and turned toward me, bending slightly to check if I was hurt.
As he leaned forward, his jacket collar shifted, revealing his collarbone—and there, etched into his skin, was a familiar dragon emblem.
The design was identical to the one I'd seen in the Victor family case files. The same symbol I'd traced with my own fingers on Luke's chest.
"Miss Windsor, are you alright?" His voice was flat, emotionless.
I didn't answer. I just stared at the tattoo on his collarbone, my entire body shaking uncontrollably.
Fear was no longer a vague suspicion. It had solidified into something concrete, crushing my chest in its icy grip.
The man seemed to notice my stare. Without a word, he tugged his collar back into place, concealing the mark.
He pulled out his phone and made a call, speaking in low tones I couldn't quite hear. I watched him nod respectfully before hanging up.
He didn't look at me again. Didn't bother with the mugger still groaning on the ground. He simply turned and strode toward the black sedan, started the engine, and peeled out of the garage.
I didn't think. I just bolted back to my car, started it up, and followed him at a distance.
'Emily, you need to know—exactly what kind of devil you've gotten tangled up with.'
I killed my headlights and relied on my knowledge of the city to maintain a safe gap between us.
My heart hammered in my chest—half from fear, half from the manic need to know the truth.
The black sedan eventually stopped in front of a luxury high-rise in Manhattan—one of those fortresses where New York's true elite lived. Security was tight. This wasn't just money; this was power.
I parked across the street, shrouded in shadows, and watched the man get out. He disappeared into the brightly lit lobby. I didn't dare get closer. All I could do was watch the entrance.
About ten minutes later, a light flickered to life on the top floor—a penthouse with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
A tall, lean figure stepped onto the balcony. He wore a black silk robe, his posture languid as he leaned against the railing. A cigar smoldered between his fingers, glowing red in the darkness.
The man who'd been tailing me stood behind him now, head bowed, clearly reporting something.
Even from this distance, I recognized that silhouette immediately.
Luke.
He seemed to sense something. Lazily, he lifted his head, his gaze sweeping directly toward where I was hidden.
Those ice-blue eyes—even in the dead of night—cut like frost-forged blades, radiating an all-seeing pressure that made my skin crawl.
My heart stopped. I ducked behind the steering wheel, my entire body frozen.
Trembling, I fumbled for my phone. The cold glow of the screen illuminated my ashen face.
I found the unknown number and bit down on my lip until I tasted blood, using the pain to ground myself.
I stared at the number. My finger hovered over it, then pressed down hard.
[Delete.]
[Are you sure you want to delete this contact?]
I didn't hesitate.
[Confirm.]
That night was a nightmare. Nothing more.
From this moment on, Luke, the Victor family, all of it—everything—would be erased from my world.