Page 61 of Seeking Shadows

I stay quiet at that.

His thumb brushes my clit, and my breath shatters. My hands grip the edge of the table, knuckles white, vision blurring. I’m gone—already coming—his name caught in my throat.

Zane groans against my neck as I clench around his fingers. “You come so fucking pretty.”

I whimper as he slides his fingers out, slow and wet, then gently pulls my panties back in place like he didn’t just ruin me. Like he didn’t just make me come with the same hand that now steadies the plate again.

He feeds me another bite. I take it, dazed, still pulsing between my legs.

And then—calm as ever—he says:

“Next time you give someone else that flirtatious little smile, I’m going to fuck you in front of them.”

My eyes snap to his. “Zane—”

“I’m not the jealous type,” he says, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear with deceptive gentleness. “But what’s mine is mine. And you, Mia…”

He leans in, lips brushing mine without kissing. His voice drops into something darker, softer.

“You’re mine. Every part of you.”

I bite my lip. “Maybe I’ll smile at someone on purpose.”

His eyes flare.

“Then I’ll bend you over the nearest table, push your face into it, and make you say my name while they watch. I want them to know who fucks you. Who you crawl back to when you’re dripping and aching and full of my cum.”

My breath catches.

“And you’d love it,” he adds softly. “Wouldn’t you?”

I nod, dazed, aching.

Zane smiles, dark and sweet. The kind of smile that promises heaven and hell.

He brings another spoonful to my lips.

“That is my girl. Now eat.”

And once again, I find myself stuck in a Mafia event.

I’d like to chat, but everyone here is more boring than the sports channel.

The room is tense, lit only by a few low-hanging lamps from the ceiling. The smell of burning cigarettes and the distant sound of footsteps echo off the walls. We’re hidden in the shadows of a dark alley, a strange mix of luxury and decadence. Mitchell and Nico, accompanied by a few mafia men, are deep in conversation about the latest business at the table. The heavy silence is broken only by low murmurs and the sound of cards being shuffled.

I sit in a corner, watching it all unfold in silence. The air is thick with tension, suffocating almost. I miss Zane, but I also fear the weight of the life we’re leading. Suddenly, a woman approaches me, a forced smile on her lips and a cold, calculating gaze in her eyes. Hana, a Yakuza woman, stands in front of me, her thick Japanese accent cutting through the silence.

“You should stay away from this, Mia,” she says, her voice harsh and bitter, pausing to assess me. “This world is not for you. Or for him.”

I stare at her, confused. “What?” My voice comes out sharper than I intended, but I can’t hide my discomfort.

She just smiles, cold and distant. “I’m just a pawn in my husband’s game, but it’s allowed me to observe a lot of things. You love your fiancé,” she says, referring to Zane. I try to keep my expression neutral, acting like her words don’t affect me, but they do.

She notices the crack in my facade, and her smile fades, replaced with something almost tired. Her eyes, small and dark, lock onto mine with a precision that makes me want to look away, but I force myself to hold her gaze.

“They’re going to hurt you,” she says, her voice softer now, but the seriousness of her tone makes my chest tighten. “And you need to get away while there’s still time.”

I fall silent, feeling the weight of her words. I know, deep down, she’s right. But… run away? How could I run away from everything I’ve already experienced?

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