Chapter Three

...In your Arms...

...(Whispered in shadows)...

...By :nogr_scapink...

...Chapter Three : Your Mine...

⚠️🔞

••••••

Afternoon

The jet landed exactly at 3:00 PM. No delay. No unnecessary movement. Just like the man it carried.

From behind the tinted limousine windows, Elon Eksien observed the city. Tall, modern, noisy. But beneath the glass and steel, he could smell something else—power, blood, opportunity, and her.

He hadn't seen her in years. The girl who once outshot him at the gun range. The girl who vanished into the shadows of the mafia world, only to rise as the ghostly right hand of the Devil himself—Darken Knight Vondelvier.

Elon smirked.

So she chose the demon after all.

••••••

Inside the grand boardroom of Vondelvier Corp, everything was set. Champagne on ice. Custom cigars. Security on full alert.

And her.

Thalianna stood beside Darken as usual, tablet in hand, dressed in a body-hugging navy blue suit, her long legs crossed elegantly, hair in a low twist, red lipstick subtle but deadly. To the world, she was just the CEO's secretary.

To Elon?

She was the one woman he could never own. And the only one who haunted his dreams.

“Mr. Eksien,” she said as he entered, voice cool and poised.

He didn’t reply right away. His eyes devoured her. Slowly. Brazenly.

Darken stood at the head of the table, watching it all with the eyes of a wolf.

“Welcome to my city,” he said, voice sharp as broken glass.

Elon smiled. “Thank you. It’s an honor, Mr. Vondelvier.”

He extended his hand.

Darken took it—but his grip was crushing.

Elon didn’t flinch. “She still handles your briefings, I see,” he said, nodding toward her.

Darken’s eyes didn’t leave Elon’s. “She handles more than that.”

It was subtle.

But her cheeks flushed. Just slightly.

Elon caught it. And smirked.

“So the rumors are true,” he said softly. “You’ve finally found someone worthy to stand beside you.”

Darken tilted his head. “You mean someone worthy to stand above your league?”

A flicker of tension sparked between them.

Thalianna noticed the tension between the two of them and decided to clear the air.

She cleared her throat. “Shall we proceed with the alliance terms, gentlemen?”

They both looked at her. For different reasons.

Darken saw the woman he trusted with his empire—and his heart.

Elon saw the woman he wanted to steal.

Later that evening, in the underground private lounge reserved for the Mafia elite, Elon leaned against the bar with a glass of scotch. He watched her from afar, as she stood by Darken’s side, speaking to one of the Yakuza delegates.

She didn’t smile. She never did. But her presence glowed. Sharp. Deadly. Addictive.

“You’re wasted on him,” Elon murmured to himself. “And I’ll prove it.”

He knew her secret. He knew they were married.

And he had a plan.

In the shadows of the lounge, Darken lit a cigar, eyes locked on Elon.

He felt it.

The challenge.

The threat.

And the one thing he swore he’d never lose—her.

Because in this world of power and blood...

The most dangerous war wasn't for territory.

It was for her heart.

••••

AT night, In The Vondelvier Mansion

The night had fallen deep and heavy, the city glittering far below the penthouse windows like a sea of stars.

Darken stood at the edge of the glass wall, sleeves rolled up, tie loose around his neck, a drink untouched in his hand.

The meeting was over. The contracts were signed.

For tonight, everything seems alright.

But his mind wasn’t.

Behind him, she moved quietly around the suite, gathering documents, tidying up as if it were just another normal day. Her heels clicked softly on the marble floor, her scent — light, clean, intoxicating — filling the air between them.

He watched her reflection in the glass.

The curve of her waist.

The way her hair slipped over her shoulder when she leaned down.

The way she pretended not to notice his eyes devouring her.

“Come here,” he said, voice low.

She froze for half a second. Then straightened, composed as ever, and approached.

"Mr. Vondelvier?"

He hated it when she called him that outside the office, but tonight... he let it slide.

When she was close enough to touch, he set down his glass and turned.

His fingers reached up, slowly, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.

She didn’t flinch — but her breathing betrayed her.

He tucked the hair behind her ear, his touch lingering along her jawline.

"You’re still carrying it all alone," he murmured.

"I’m fine," she whispered back, stubborn as always.

"Liar," he said, a ghost of a smile curving his lips.

For a long moment, they just stood there.

No words. No need.

The tension pulled between them like silk about to snap.

He trailed his fingers down her arm — slow, teasing — until he caught her hand and brought it to his chest, right over his heart.

"Rely on me," he said. His voice wasn't commanding this time. It was raw. Real.

Her lashes lowered, hiding the storm in her eyes.

But she didn’t pull away.

Instead, her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, clutching him like she was drowning and he was the only thing keeping her afloat.

He tilted her chin up, studying her face, as if memorizing every line, every tiny emotion she tried to hide.

"You’re mine," he whispered against her lips. "On the streets, in the boardroom... in my bed. Mine."

Her body trembled lightly — from restraint, not fear.

And when he kissed her — slow, deep, possessive — she melted into him like she had always belonged there.

It wasn’t wild tonight.

It wasn’t rushed.

It was slow, consuming, dangerous — the kind of touch that set fires deep inside without ever fully burning.

And as he lifted her onto the desk, scattering papers like fallen petals, he thought:

Let the world crumble.

As long as I have her, I have everything.

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