Page 5

CHAPTER 5

CORA

T he glow of the computer screen casts a pale light across the desk, the numbers from the Asian markets finally aligning into something coherent. My fingers hover over the keyboard, double-checking the last cell. Done. I lean back in Orion’s chair, the leather creaking under my weight, and stretch my arms above my head. The office is quiet, too quiet.

“Two days,” I mutter to myself, spinning the chair slightly. “Two days, and it feels like he’s been gone for a month.”

The silence presses in, heavy and unfamiliar. I’ve gotten used to the sound of his voice, the way it rumbles through the room like a storm rolling in. Even when he’s not speaking, his presence is a constant—commanding, intense, impossible to ignore. Now, the absence of it feels like a void.

I glance at the clock. Midnight. The thought of going home to my parents’ house makes my skin crawl. Last time, I walked in on my dad posing like some Renaissance painting, and my mom wielding a paintbrush like it was a weapon. No thanks.

“Sofa it is,” I say, pushing myself up from the chair. My legs protest, stiff from hours of sitting. I grab my bag and head for the stairs that lead to the upstairs apartment.

The second floor is dimly lit, the kitchenette gleaming faintly in the moonlight streaming through the windows. I toss my bag onto the counter and head for the sofa, pulling the throw blanket off the back. It smells faintly of Orion—something sharp and clean, like cedar and ozone.

I flop onto the cushions, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to me. My mind drifts back to him, as it always does. The way he looks at me sometimes, like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. The way his hand felt on my shoulder that first day, firm but not unkind. The way he’s started to let his guard down, just a little, when it’s just the two of us.

“Stop it, Cora,” I whisper, pulling the blanket up to my chin. “He’s your boss. That’s it.”

But the thought lingers, stubborn and insistent. I close my eyes, the image of him filling my mind—his sharp jawline, those piercing purple eyes, the way he towers over me like some kind of god.

The sharp clatter of something hitting the floor jolts me awake, the sound echoing up the stairs from the office below. I sit up, my heart pounding, the blanket slipping off my shoulders. The office is silent again, except for the faint hum of the air conditioner.

“Orion?” I call out, my voice soft but hopeful. Maybe he’s back early. I swing my legs off the sofa and pad to the top of the stairs, peering down into the dimly lit office.

Instead of Orion, I see a man in green overalls, a bucket and mop in hand, standing near the desk. He’s tall, wiry, and his face is obscured by the shadow of his cap. My stomach tightens. Something’s off. For one, I’ve never seen this guy before, and Orion Plaza maintenance staff wear brown overalls. And for another, who cleans a seventy-story office building at midnight?

I step back slowly, my mind racing. My phone is upstairs, on the kitchen counter. I’ll call security, maybe the police. Better to be safe than sorry. I turn to head back up the stairs, but the squeak of my sock on the step betrays me.

“Hey, don’t let me stop you,” I say, forcing a casual tone I don’t feel. “I’ll just hang out up here until you’re done with the floor.”

His head snaps up, and I catch a glimpse of his eyes—too bright, too sharp. I turn and climb the stairs, trying not to break into a run. My pulse thunders in my ears. At the top, I glance back. The man is gone. Vanished. My breath hitches.

I sprint for the kitchen, my fingers fumbling for my phone on the counter. I grab it, but before I can unlock it, a voice behind me makes me freeze.

“Who could you possibly have to call at this hour?”

I whirl around. The man is there, leaning against the doorway, his cap tilted back. His face begins to shift, the skin rippling like water. His features contort, elongating into a horrifying reptilian mask—green scales, slit pupils, and a mouthful of razor-sharp teeth.

I stumble back, my phone slipping from my hand. My back hits the counter, and I can’t breathe, can’t think. The creature—the thing—takes a step closer, its forked tongue flicking out to taste the air.

“What’s the matter?” it hisses, its voice scraping like nails on glass. “Never seen a Grolgath in his true form before? I thought all of you Veritas agents were taught about us.”

I open my mouth to scream, but no sound comes out. My mind scrambles to process what he’s saying—Grolgath? Veritas? None of it makes sense. All I know is the danger, the way my body screams at me to run even though there’s nowhere to go.

My heart hammers in my chest as I bolt down the stairs, the Grolgath’s laughter echoing behind me. It’s a sound that crawls up my spine, mocking and predatory.

“Oh yes, do run away,” he calls, his voice dripping with amusement. “It’s no fun to hunt unless my prey struggles.”

The corded phone on Orion’s desk is my only lifeline. I skid to a stop, yanking the receiver off the cradle. Silence. My stomach sinks as I glance over my shoulder. The Grolgath stands there, the severed end of the phone line dangling from his scaled fingers.

“No fair, trying to ruin my fun,” he hisses, his slit pupils narrowing. “I was going to play with you a little longer, give you a precious few moments of life, but I don’t think you’ll offer much sport.”

He takes a step forward, his movements fluid and unnerving, like a snake coiling to strike. I back away, my hands groping behind me for anything—anything—I can use as a weapon. My fingers brush against something cold and solid. The fire extinguisher mounted on the wall.

“Oh, that’s better,” the Grolgath purrs, his forked tongue flicking out. “Is it heavy? Good, you might actually be able to damage me with it?—”

I don’t wait for him to finish. I yank the fire extinguisher off the wall, fumbling with the pin. My fingers are shaking so badly I almost drop it. The Grolgath laughs again, low and guttural, like he’s enjoying this.

“Oh, little human, do you really think?—?”

I pull the trigger, and a blast of freezing foam hits him square in the face. He stumbles back, hissing and clawing at his eyes. The foam sprays everywhere, coating his scaled skin, sticking to the floor. He chokes out something in a language I don’t understand, and I drop the extinguisher, its weight suddenly too much.

I don’t look back. I sprint for the elevator, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The Grolgath’s enraged screech echoes through the office, but I don’t stop. My fingers slam against the elevator button, the doors sliding open with a soft chime. I dive inside, slamming the button for the ground floor.

The last thing I see before the doors close is the Grolgath shaking off the foam, his reptilian eyes locked on me, glowing with fury. The elevator jerks into motion, and I sag against the wall, my legs trembling.

The elevator lurches, and I stumble, my back slamming against the wall. A heavy thud reverberates above me, and I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. The ceiling groans, metal screeching as something tears through it. I look up just in time to see a clawed hand rip through the panel, the talons glinting in the dim light.

I scream, the sound raw and panicked, and my fingers fly to the control panel, mashing every button in sight. The elevator jerks to a stop, and the doors slide open on the twentieth floor. I bolt out, my legs moving before my brain can catch up. Behind me, the Grolgath hisses, a sound that sends shivers down my spine. The doors start to close, and I turn just in time to see him lunging forward, his reptilian face twisted in fury. The doors shut with a soft ding, cutting him off.

I don’t stop to breathe. I sprint down the hallway, my shoes slapping against the polished floor. The offices here are dark, the glass walls reflecting the faint glow of emergency lights. I skid into the first open door I see, my heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst.

The office is small, cluttered with papers and a desk that looks like it hasn’t been used in weeks. I grab the phone on the desk, my hands shaking so badly I can barely dial. The line rings once, twice, and then a calm voice answers.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“There’s—there’s a monster,” I stammer, my voice breaking. “A snake man. He’s chasing me. He’s going to kill me.”

There’s a pause on the other end, and I can almost hear the operator’s skepticism. “A snake man,” she repeats, her tone flat.

“Yes! He’s—he’s real. He’s in the building. Please, you have to send someone!”

“Ma’am, someone could be dying while you’re making a crank call,” the operator says, her voice sharp. The line goes dead.

I stare at the phone, my chest heaving. My fingers hover over the buttons, but I don’t dial again. Outside the office, I hear footsteps—slow, deliberate, and getting closer. The sound of claws scraping against the floor makes my stomach churn.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” the Grolgath taunts, his voice echoing down the hallway. “I can smell you. I know you’re close. I think I’ll leave your head as a present to Oriyn.”

I drop to the floor, crawling under the desk. The phone slips from my hand, and I catch it before it can clatter against the tile. My breath comes in shallow gasps, and I press a hand over my mouth, trying to muffle the sound. My heart is pounding so loudly I’m sure he can hear it.

The footsteps stop just outside the office. I can see his shadow through the glass wall, his silhouette distorted but unmistakable. He’s massive, his shoulders hunched, his head tilted as if he’s listening. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself to be invisible.

“Little human,” he purrs, his voice low and menacing. “You can’t hide forever.”

I don’t move. I don’t breathe. The only sound is the blood rushing in my ears and the faint creak of the Grolgath’s claws as he flexes them. He takes a step into the office, and I press myself further under the desk, my back against the wall. The phone is still in my hand, but I don’t dare dial. Not now. Not when he’s so close.

The desk flips like it’s made of cardboard, the wood splintering as it crashes against the wall. I scramble backward, my back hitting the floor, my hands splayed out in front of me like a shield. The Grolgath looms over me, his scales glinting under the fluorescent lights, his claws extended and dripping with something dark and viscous. His slit pupils narrow, and his forked tongue flicks out, tasting the air.

“Pathetic,” he sneers, his voice a low hiss. “You’re not even worth the effort.”

I don’t have time to scream. I don’t have time to think. His arm swings down, claws aimed straight for my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for the pain.

It never comes.

Instead, there’s a deafening crash, the sound of something massive colliding with the Grolgath. I open my eyes just in time to see a blur of gold and red as a larger figure slams into him, sending him sprawling across the room. The Grolgath snarls, his claws slashing wildly, but the golden-scaled figure—bigger, broader, and radiating sheer power—grabs him by the throat and slams him into the wall.

The impact shatters the drywall, dust raining down as the two reptilian beings grapple. The golden one moves with a precision that’s almost terrifying, his every motion deliberate and calculated. He slams the Grolgath into the floor, then the ceiling, then the floor again, each impact making the room shake. The Grolgath lets out a guttural roar, struggling to break free, but it’s no use. The golden figure grabs him by the arm and hurls him across the room.

The Grolgath crashes through the window, the glass shattering into a thousand glittering shards. For a moment, he hangs in the air, his eyes wide with shock, and then he’s gone, his scream fading as he plummets twenty stories to the ground below.

I’m frozen, my breath coming in shallow gasps, my heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst. The golden figure straightens, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. His scales shimmer in the dim light, and his purple eyes—those piercing, familiar purple eyes—lock onto mine.

“Are you all right…” he starts, his voice deep and resonant, then stops, as if catching himself. “Miss?”

I stare at him, my mind struggling to process what I’m seeing. The scales, the height, the sheer presence—it’s all alien, and yet… there’s something about his face, something I recognize. The sharp jawline, the intensity in his gaze, the way he carries himself like he owns every room he walks into. It’s him.

“I’m not hurt,” I manage to say, my voice trembling. “Mr. Weller. Sir.”