Page 87 of Their Reckless Thief (The Below #1)

LUCA

The silence in my apartment pressed in on all sides, stronger than the bourbon I’d poured to slow the storm in my mind.

It wasn’t working. Every sip tasted bitter, every drop a reminder that I couldn’t keep Celeste safe from The Shadow’s grasp.

He wasn’t physically tormenting her, but he had her mind and her soul in his grasp.

I’d left her with Dorian to give her a second to rest. That was the excuse anyway, but honestly, I needed a break to gather my thoughts, and yet, all I’d done was replay her suffering in my mind.

I couldn’t stand the idea of her getting sicker with every passing day, while he sat in his fortress, watching, waiting with some backward sense of higher authority.

It ends now, I told myself. I’d make him see the error of his way.

I tossed back the last of the bourbon and placed the glass on the table. I was going to face The Shadow. I was going to tell him the truth. Every fucking detail.

I stepped out of my apartment, rolling my shoulders as I prepared to veilstep. There was always a brief flash of transition, a kind of weightless fall into darkness before I landed. And then, as I blinked into focus, the illusion broke.

At first, The Shadow’s territory looked like it always did: barren, desolate, a wasteland most would never give another thought.

As the illusion faded, the truth of The Shadow’s territory unfolded before me, striking in its beauty and almost unreal in its vibrancy.

Gone were the gray, desolate lands people expected, the barren rocks, and thick, oppressive mist they’d come to associate with The Shadow’s realm.

Instead, lush, rolling hills stretched into the distance, covered in deep green grass that looked softer than velvet.

Far beyond, the fae mountain range stood proud and snow-capped, jagged peaks shimmering faintly under the late-afternoon sky.

The faint sound of waves crashing against a rocky shore only a few miles away drifted to my ears.

Dusk softened everything, casting shades of gold, rose, and lavender across the land as though some unseen hand was painting a masterpiece.

This was no wasteland, as The Shadow portrayed it.

It was a carefully hidden sanctuary, as majestic as it was dangerous, a beautiful deception that most would never comprehend.

The interior of the territory was a fortress of elegance, with stone structures dotting the landscape in deliberate clusters, each building exuding a quiet yet undeniable opulence.

Towers and arches framed the streets, their surfaces carved with ancient, intricate designs.

The stonework itself bore the history of the territory—the stories etched into each brick, each archway—telling of a legacy The Shadow’s ancestors had crafted with patience and precision.

As I walked the busy streets, I saw shifters, fae, and other supernatural creatures moving with a purpose.

Their clothes were well-made, vibrant in color, with designs that hinted at both luxury and practicality.

A baker swept the street outside his shop, smiling at a pair of children playing nearby.

Vendors sold their goods and chatted with passersby, and craftspeople displayed their wares proudly.

Beneath the polished surface, however, I knew there lurked something darker.

It was in the quiet exchanges, in the hesitations that spoiled the people’s smiles.

For all the beauty, for all the fortifications and careful care, there was a murkiness woven into the heart of this paradise—a poison The Shadow kept from spilling over the edges.

This place, for all its wealth and power, had an illusion of its own.

The people were sheltered, yes, but they were also shielded from the reality of their lives.

This place was a carefully constructed kingdom where beauty masked the reality of the pain, a paradise that exacted a silent toll from those who resided within its bounds.

As I moved deeper into the territory, weaving through the meticulously tended streets and past shops and homes that looked as if they’d been plucked from another world, I realized that The Shadow and I were two sides of the same coin.

We were both willing to do whatever it took to protect those under our care.

“Luca?” I turned to see a middle-aged woman standing a few steps away outside her little apothecary, her face alight with recognition. “It’s been ages,” she said, smiling as she made her way over, her steps a bit slower than I remembered.

“Clarisse.” I gave her a smile I hoped appeared genuine, though it felt anything but. She used to work for The Shadow, tending to his housekeeping and other miscellaneous duties. She’d taken on a motherly role in my life, always checking in to make sure I didn’t miss out on any nurturing.

“I suppose it has been a while. You look well,” I said, though my gaze caught on the faint tremor in her hand as she brought a white handkerchief to her lips.

She chuckled softly. Once, that sound had rung with strength, now it was a fading melody. “Flattery, Luca? It won’t work on me, boy. You know that.”

I tried to shrug it off, to participate in the banter, but she was looking at me with an intensity that told me she’d already seen past the facade.

Her gaze softened, and she tilted her head slightly, her wide smile catching me off guard. “But you look different.” Her face shining with amusement. “There’s a light about you, in your eyes. Something warm, something soft. You’re in love, aren’t you?”

I laughed half-heartedly, dismissing the notion, but Clarisse shook her head.

“Don’t even try to deny it,” she said with that same authority she’d had over me when I was younger.

“I’ve known you too long, Luca. You may have grown stronger, but I know you, better than you think.

” She took a step closer, the edge of her handkerchief brushing her cheek as she tucked it away, leaving a faint smudge of red on her fingers.

“It’s more than a crush. I’d say… whoever she is, she’s good for you. Maybe even more than you know.”

“Clarisse…” I began, unsure how to respond, unsure if I wanted to acknowledge how easily she’d unraveled the carefully held secrets I hadn’t dared admit even to myself. “It’s… complicated.”

She shook her head, smiling like a woman who’d experienced enough of life to know what mattered and what didn’t.

“Love is always complicated, Luca. It’s supposed to be.

But something tells me this girl— whoever she is—is a good thing.

And you better not keep her hidden forever. I’ll expect you to bring her by soon.”

I started to protest, but the words died in my throat when I realized just how much she saw, how transparent I must have been. “Maybe someday,” I responded, unable to hide the faint, wistful smile that pulled at the corners of my mouth.

The lines around her eyes deepened as she leaned in. “Good,” she said, giving my arm a firm squeeze. “You deserve something real, Luca. Don’t wait too long to let her know that.”

I nodded, swallowing past the lump in my throat. I hoped she couldn’t discern the worry in my gaze, the unspoken fear that the next time I came here, I might not find her waiting.

As I turned away, her words stayed with me, adding to the weight I already carried. This place may have been an illusion of prosperity, a facade The Shadow had built, but cracks were beginning to show. And no matter how deep his shadows ran, they couldn’t conceal the truth forever.

A dark, unrelenting pressure surrounded the perimeter of the mansion.

For anyone else, it would have been suffocating, an impassable barrier of secrets and fears, but I’d trained long enough to manipulate shadows and not be deceived by the illusions The Shadows relied on.

With a flick of my wrist, I summoned my own magic, shadows shifting to cloak me as I passed through the twisted wards.

Moving through the considerable security measures around the mansion was like cutting through layers of carefully woven deception.

The air itself was laced with The Shadow’s magic, twisting the very walls of the territory to show anyone approaching a distorted, rundown fortress, like something carved into the cliffside, which was what Vincenzo and Dorian had seen.

In truth, the mansion was sleek and luxurious, hidden under the guise of aged stone and illusions.

Every corridor, every gleaming corner of the mansion’s interior spoke of wealth and ancient power, each room meticulously designed and maintained.

Only people he permitted inside and lifted the illusions for could see the grandeur, and those were few and far between.

I slipped through a final doorway, my shadows bending around me until I reached his office.

Power thrummed in the room, overwhelming my senses.

The Shadow sat at his desk, back turned to me, studying something on his screen.

He wore his usual mask, the one he presented to the world—a looming silhouette, features blurred, as if he were no more than a shadow himself.

As I stepped forward, my magic crackled, stripping away the illusion, and for a brief, cutting instant, I saw him as he was.

Tall, lean, and athletic, The Shadow possessed the kind of strength built from years of calculated movements.

His jet-black hair was pulled back, revealing high cheekbones and dark blue eyes that were nearly black.

He was dressed in a dark, elegant suit paired with polished black boots that spoke of a man who knew exactly how to blend refinement with lethal grace.

This was the true face of The Shadow—cold, ruthless, and refined.

He glanced up, eyes glinting in amusement. “Luca, you’re not exactly who I expected to see tonight.”