Page 5 of Whispers In Wonderland

With a wordless nod he strides into the shadows, surely in search of his pretty Peacock. Tonight, will be a Wonderland of exploration in passion and the uninhibited pursuit of pleasure for us all.

CHAPTER THREE

DEREK

The scent of aged leather and polished mahogany fills the air as I sit, my hands resting lightly on the armrests of the chair that barely contains the tension coiling through me. Cillian’s office is a testament to power and control, much like the man himself. He leans against his desk, an imposing figure, as we both set our masks aside.

“Tell me, Derek,” Cillian’s voice breaks the silence, smooth and commanding. “What brings you to my domain today?”

I lean forward, feeling the weight of the choice I’m facing pressing down on my shoulders. The crisp rustle of fabric accompanies my movement, a subtle reminder of the costume I wear every day in the form of a tailored suit.

“Lucian,” I say, a sharp edge in my tone. “His threats are no longer idle posturing. He’s a clear and present danger—to my loved ones, to my business. I’ve come because I need… options.”

The words hang between us, heavy with implication. In the world we navigate, a single misstep can mean downfall, and trust is both a weapon and a shield. Lucian, with his cold eyes and venomous ambition, has become more than a thorn in my side; he’s a sword dangling over everything I hold dear.

Cillian doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, his presence fills the room, a silent force that commands attention without demand. It’s a dance we’ve performed before, two alphas circling, acknowledging each other’s strength.

The silence stretches, but it isn’t uncomfortable—it’s contemplative, a battlefield where we devise strategies and forge alliances. As I sit before Cillian, my mind races with the possibilities of what our combined forces could achieve—what destruction we could rain down upon Lucian Clareno, the man who dares threaten the precarious balance of our lives.

Cillian’s gaze, sharp as cut diamond, never wavers from mine, and I can tell he weighs every word I’ve uttered with a precision that’s made him king of his own empire. There’s respect there, in the set of his jaw, the unwavering focus of his eyes. He knows the game, plays it masterfully, and recognizes a fellow player.

“Lucian has gone too far,” I continue, my voice low, thrumming with a potent blend of determination laced with an undercurrent of vulnerability that I can’t quite conceal. “His ambition now threatens to unravel the foundations I’ve built, foundations that protect not only me but those I care for.”

The admission doesn’t come easy. To lay bare the concerns gnawing at my core feels like revealing a chink in my armor, but Cillian is one of the few men to whom I can show this side. In Club Wonderland’s shadowed corners, we’ve shared glimpses of our hidden selves—the selves that command and control, but also the selves that guard our most intimate vulnerabilities.

Cillian’s fingers pause in their rhythmic tracing along the edge of his desk. He understands what I don’t say; that my fear isn’t for myself, but for the people who rely on the shelter my power provides.

“Your empire isn’t just structures and numbers, Derek,” Cillian says, his tone even, calm. “It’s people, loyalty, connections—things Lucian can’t comprehend. He sees only the surface—money, influence. But the roots, they run deep, don’t they?”

“Deeper than he’ll ever know,” I agree, feeling the tightness in my chest ease slightly with the acknowledgment of our shared understanding. With Cillian, there’s no need for pretense or bravado. We’re two sides of the same coin—different empires, different methods, but the same relentless drive to protect what’s ours.

“Then use that,” he states, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his lips. “Turn his ignorance into his downfall.”

As Cillian outlines the skeleton of a plan, the threads of danger woven through every word, a familiar fire ignits within me. It’s a mixture of adrenaline, anticipation, and the thrill of the hunt—an intoxicating cocktail that has always been my addiction.

“Are you prepared to go to war, Derek?” he asks, simply.

The man never minces words, and it’s one thing I respect most about him.

My hand clenches involuntarily, muscles tensing with the readiness ingrained in me since my military days. The choice before me is stark, the path ahead fraught with peril, but I have already made the decision when I stepped into this room seeking an ally in this silent war. “War is an old friend,” I reply, meeting his gaze squarely. “And I’ll greet it with open arms to protect what’s mine.”

“Your brother won’t be pleased,” he states the obvious.

“There’s quite a lot he doesn’t know. Or need to,” I counter.

Cillian’s eyes narrow and his head tilts, “You’re going to keep this from him? It won’t be easy.”

“Not for the reasons you’re thinking,” I say and his eyebrow lifts at my deflection. I sigh not wanting to betray Zach’s confidence, but needing Cillian to understand how the landscape has changed. “Zach is finally happy—in ways he hasn’t been in a very long time. In ways both he and Ashton deserve. I won’t take the peace he hasn’t had since Lilly’s death from him.”

“Happy and vulnerable. It’s what finally decided you.”

“Yes,” I admit not liking the brutal facts. “My next steps will benefit us both.”

Cillian nods, a glint of approval in his eyes. We both understand the gravity of what comes next, the point of no return.

“Very well,” he says. “Then let us discuss battle plans.”

As Cillian outlines a strategy of infiltration and deception, I feel the thrill of the hunt surge through me once more. It’s a heady thing, this anticipation of finally turning the tables on Lucian. For too long I’ve endured his threats with forced patience, swallowing back the urge to retaliate at Zachary’s urging.

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