Page 62 of Seeking Shadows

“Are you psychic or something?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood, but my voice shakes a little. “Oh, I know. It’s the medicine, right?” I try to laugh, but it comes out bitter.

Hana doesn’t flinch at my sarcasm. Instead, she just stands there, unfazed. “I observe and analyze everything around me. And believe me, Mia, I can see how wrong you are to think this will end well.” She leans in closer, her eyes unwavering. There’s a coldness in them, a hardness I hadn’t expected. “Loving someone in the mafia is a curse. It’s a constant pain, a war within you. In the end, it’s only a matter of time before they destroy you… or you destroy them.”

I watch her closely now, really looking at her. And suddenly, I see it—something in her eyes. A deep, almost irreparable sadness.

Hana wasn’t just talking about Zane; she was talking about herself, about what this life had done to her.

I observe her more carefully. Her pale skin contrasts with her dark black hair, straight as night. Her eyes, slanted and deep, have a far-off look, as if she’s staring into a place none of us can see. She’s small in stature, but her rigid posture and the cold authority she carries make anyone question her fragility.

“I know what it’s like to live with this pain,” she says, her voice now softer, tinged with bitterness. “I know what it’s like to be used, to feel like every move you make is a risk of being crushed. But that’s the price you pay when you choose this path, Mia. And there’s no going back.”

I remain silent, reflecting. I’ve always known that living alongside Zane in this world would come with its challenges, its sacrifices. But I never imagined the pain would be this great, this constant, as Hana described.

She was right. This world isn’t for me. And yet, here I am. And I love Zane.

But I can’t let her see that.

“You’re going to lose yourself in this game, Mia. And there’s no one to save you.” Her tone is low now, serious, as if she’s making a grim prophecy.

I can only stare at her, trying to comprehend her words, trying to understand how she knows so much about me and about us.

I want to say something, but I’m at a loss for words.

She notices my hesitation, and with a tired sigh, walks away, leaving me lost in thought.

I prepare to follow her, but as I look over at Zane, I see his expression—a mix of irritation and frustration. He’s not good at keeping his mask up, and that’s a problem.

Lucky for him, my father isn’t the giving type. He enjoys letting others do his dirty work, no matter how clumsy the outcome is.

The conversation across the room is growing more tense. Zane, disguised as a mobster, seems to be growing increasingly uncomfortable with something Nico said. Doctor Rachel Wayne is part of the exchange, her calm professionalism clashing with Nico’s sharp tone. Zane starts drinking faster, as if trying to drown out some frustration or anger I can’t quite understand.

My heart races as I watch him drown in his own feelings and problems. That’s when he turns to me, quickly, before stumbling away. He moves into the crowd, making it even harder to find him, but I don’t give up.

I find him eventually, leaning against a pillar, his head buried in the marble as if he doesn’t even know who he is anymore.

He’s very drunk. Very drunk indeed.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” I whisper.

“No, you can’t touch me,” he mumbles, and I find that strange. He’s never been one to deny my touch. I pull back, even though it hurts a little.

“I’ll just take you home, okay? Then I won’t touch you anymore,” I explain.

“No! I’m married. Only my wife can touch me,” he says, his voice husky. All my apprehension melts away at his words.

God. I love this man.

“Zane,” I murmur.

“Go get my wife,” he shouts.

“But I’m your wife, Zane,” I say gently. He looks at me with a certain glint in his eyes.

“Is that you, baby?”

“Yes, it’s me. Your Mia.”

“So please, touch me, baby. I missed you,” he practically throws himself on top of me, and I laugh out loud.

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