C9 Phantom Thread

Lucien couldn’t sit still. He left the office minutes later, abandoning scheduled meetings, ignoring Valerie’s calls. His black Maserati purred as it sliced through the rain-slick streets, heading straight for 173-C—the building Aiden disappeared into. He needed to see it for himself.

When he arrived, the building looked… ordinary. Dull gray concrete, a cracked mailbox, and a flickering hallway light inside. But to someone like Lucien, who’d seen the world’s filthiest secrets tucked inside the prettiest facades, this bland exterior screamed manufactured. The space between reality and illusion.

He walked in without hesitation.

The scent of cheap bleach hit his nostrils first, but beneath it… a faint trace of sandalwood. Familiar. Aiden’s scent? His pupils dilated. He followed it like a predator would a trail of blood. But then, it stopped. Third floor. No doorbell. Just a single matte-black door with no number, no markings.

He knocked once.

Silence.

Then… footsteps.

Lucien’s muscles tightened.

But the door didn’t open. A small slit on the side slid open, like in old gangster films.

A pair of eyes stared at him. Cold. Calculating.

“You’re not welcome here,” said a voice, masculine, smooth as silk, but lined with steel.

Lucien didn’t flinch. “I’m here for the boy.”

A pause.

Then a chuckle. “Aren’t we all?”

The slit closed.

Lucien’s fists clenched, but he stepped back. Not now. Not without backup. Not without knowing who he was up against. But he’d seen enough. This wasn’t a slum home. This wasn’t a student’s residence.

This was a safehouse.

And Aiden had vanished into it.

—

Back at his penthouse, Lucien poured himself another drink, shirt damp against his chest. He stood before the mirror, staring at his reflection.

“I should just take him,” he growled to himself. “Break the rules. Make him mine.”

The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

But just as it came, his screen pinged. New data.

Valerie had delivered.

Lucien tapped the screen.

A heat map glowed red around the building—records of untraceable signal pings, encrypted drives, and underground digital IDs. A network of false leads. It wasn’t just one person. It was an entire system.

Who the hell was this kid?

He opened the next file—photos from Aiden’s past week at school. One stood out.

Aiden was smiling—genuinely—for the first time. And in the background, blurred, was Damien. The mafia boss. Looking at Aiden like a man starved.

Lucien’s hand shook slightly.

That bastard.

That bastard.

He’d seen him around campus, but it didn’t occur to him Damien might’ve noticed Aiden too. And now he had proof.

He threw the glass against the wall.

—

The next morning, Lucien arrived at school early.

He wore a perfectly tailored suit, but his eyes were anything but polished. They burned with territorial rage.

He found Aiden in the courtyard, alone, sketching something under the old sakura tree. The boy looked too serene, too unbothered, for someone caught between titans. It made Lucien want to break the peace—to stir him up until he felt.

He walked over.

“You didn’t come home last night,” he said softly, crouching beside him.

Aiden didn’t flinch.

“I never told you where I live,” he replied, not looking up.

Lucien smiled, cold. “Doesn’t mean I don’t know.”

Their eyes met.

Aiden’s gaze was calm. Almost… daring.

Lucien leaned in.

“You’re not weak, are you?” he whispered. “You pretend to be. But under that soft smile, you’re hiding something. Something sharp.”

Aiden’s lips curved ever so slightly.

“And you’re obsessed,” he replied.

Lucien froze.

The breeze ruffled their hair. Sakura petals drifted down like silent witnesses.

“Yes,” Lucien said finally. “I am.”

And before Aiden could reply, Lucien pressed his mouth to his.

It wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t sweet.

It was hunger—violent, starving, and relentless.

But Aiden didn’t push him away.

He kissed back.

For a second.

Then he bit Lucien’s lip.

Hard.

Lucien tasted blood. His eyes widened. Aiden pulled away, gaze lazy but glittering with mischief.

“You’re not the only one with sharp teeth,” he murmured.

Lucien sat back, stunned—and turned on beyond reason.