Chapter 1 - The Gift No One Dared to Give
Elara Vance pushed a small brown box into Julian Vane’s hands and whispered, “Merry Christmas.”
Julian looked down and found a red ribbon tied around the lid.
Under the ribbon was a tiny paper tag.
It read: For the man everyone fears but nobody knows.
Julian’s hands began to tremble.
The Obsidian Lounge fell so silent that Elara could hear the soft scrape of her own shoe against the marble floor.
A moment earlier, Christmas Eve had looked almost normal.
Almost.
A jazz trio had been playing beside the grand piano. Candles burned beneath garlands of cedar and gold ribbon. Wealthy businessmen drank twelve-year whiskey beneath a chandelier that cost more than Elara would earn in ten years. Outside the tall windows, snow blurred downtown Chicago into a white haze.
But nothing about the Obsidian Lounge was truly normal.
Especially not tonight.
And especially not when Julian Vane was inside.
Elara had worked there for four months, long enough to learn the unwritten rules.
Never interrupt Julian during a conversation.
Never ask about the men who came through the private elevator.
Never repeat anything overheard in the back rooms.
Never touch his table unless he gave permission.
And never, under any circumstance, surprise him.
She had just broken the last rule in front of everyone.
Julian stood near the Christmas tree wearing a black suit and an open white shirt. Ink disappeared beneath his collar. More tattoos covered his hands. A heavy silver watch flashed beneath the warm lights.
Six men stood behind him.
They were not officially bodyguards.
Nobody at the lounge used that word.
They were simply “Mr. Vane’s people.”
Elara had seen them remove drunk executives without raising their voices. She had seen them close the restaurant twenty minutes early because Julian had received a phone call. She had once watched an entire table of politicians leave without finishing dinner after one of those men whispered something into an ear.
Now every one of them was staring at her.
Julian finally looked up.
“For me?”
His voice was quiet.
That made it worse.
Elara swallowed.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She almost laughed from nerves.
“Because it’s Christmas.”
His expression did not change.
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
A man behind Julian shifted his weight.
Elara knew him as Marcus Vale, Julian’s closest lieutenant. He was broad-shouldered, gray-eyed, and so disciplined that she had never seen him drink a single glass of alcohol in four months.
“Elara,” Marcus said carefully, “maybe you should return to the kitchen.”
Julian raised one finger.
Marcus stopped speaking.
Elara’s heart pounded.
Julian looked at the gift again.
Brown paper.
Red ribbon.
A box small enough to fit in one hand.
It had cost Elara eleven dollars to make.
Actually, the materials had cost eleven dollars.
The thing inside had cost nothing.
That was why she had hesitated for three days before giving it to him.
Julian slowly pulled the ribbon free.
Elara wished she could disappear.
He opened the box.
Inside lay a small wooden Christmas ornament.
Hand-carved.
Imperfect.
A black bird sat beneath a tiny crescent moon, the edges sanded smooth but uneven. Along the bottom, Elara had carved one word.
HOME.
Julian stared at it.
Marcus took one step forward.
Elara noticed something strange.
Marcus looked shocked.
Not confused.
Shocked.
Julian touched the ornament with one tattooed finger.
“Where did you get this?”
“I made it.”
His eyes snapped toward her.
“You made this?”
“My father taught me wood carving when I was little.”
Julian’s jaw tightened.
“Why a raven?”
Elara hesitated.
“Because you always look at the raven on the lounge sign when you come in.”
Nobody moved.
Elara suddenly wondered if that raven meant something terrible.
“I thought you liked it.”
Julian looked back at the ornament.
His fingers trembled again.
Just once.
Barely visible.
But Elara saw it.
So did Marcus.
Julian closed the box.
“Everyone leave.”
The jazz trio stopped mid-note.
Elara blinked.
Julian’s gaze remained on her.
“I said leave.”
The room moved instantly.
Guests collected coats without complaint. Staff hurried toward the kitchen. Marcus began directing the other men toward the exits.
Elara started to turn.
“You stay.”
She froze.
Within two minutes, the grand lounge was nearly empty.
Only Julian, Marcus, two guards, and Elara remained.
The Christmas tree lights blinked softly behind them.
Elara folded her hands.
“If I offended you, I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t.”
“Then why did everybody leave?”
Julian studied her.
“Because the raven is my family symbol.”
Elara said nothing.
“My father carved one almost exactly like this when I was eight.”
“I didn’t know.”
“No. You didn’t.”
Something in his tone made her uneasy.
Julian walked to the nearby bar and placed the box beside a bottle of whiskey.
He didn’t pour himself a drink.
“What do you know about me, Elara?”
She looked at Marcus.
Marcus gave no help.
“People talk.”
“What do they say?”
“That you own half the buildings on this block.”
“True.”
“That politicians answer your calls.”
“Sometimes.”
“That people who betray you regret it.”
Marcus’s mouth twitched.
Julian almost smiled.
“Anything else?”
Elara looked at him.
“That everyone is afraid of you.”
The hint of amusement disappeared.
“And you?”
She considered lying.
“I’m careful around you.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“No.”
His eyes narrowed.
“No, what?”
“No, I’m not afraid of you.”
Marcus actually turned his head.
Julian stared at her for several seconds.
“Why?”
“Because I’ve watched you.”
His face hardened.
Elara hurried on.
“I mean while I work. You tip the dishwasher when his son is sick. You always tell Mrs. Alvarez to take a taxi home when it snows. Last month, you paid for Tommy’s surgery and made him promise not to tell anybody.”
Julian went completely still.
Elara realized too late that Tommy, one of the bartenders, had probably broken a serious rule by telling her.
“You notice too much,” Julian said.
“I wait tables. Noticing is the job.”
A faint sound came from Marcus that might have been a suppressed laugh.
Julian ignored him.
“Do you know what happens to people who notice too much in my world?”
Elara’s mouth went dry.
“No.”
“They become useful.”
He took one step closer.
“Or dangerous.”
Elara held his gaze.
“I’m neither.”
“That’s what worries me.”
Before she could respond, Marcus’s phone vibrated.
He checked it.
His entire expression changed.
“Julian.”
One word.
But the room tightened.
Julian turned.
Marcus approached and showed him the screen.
Elara saw only a photograph.
Her photograph.
Taken that morning.
She was walking out of her apartment carrying a grocery bag.
Underneath were six words.
THE WAITRESS IS CLOSE TO HIM.
Elara stopped breathing.
Julian took the phone.
“Who sent this?”
“Unknown number.”
“When?”
“Thirty seconds ago.”
Julian’s gaze moved to Elara.
She whispered, “I don’t understand.”
He walked toward her.
“What time do you usually leave?”
“After closing.”
“Not tonight.”
“What?”
“You’re coming with me.”
Elara shook her head.
“No, I’m going home.”
“You can’t.”
“I have a landlord who changes the locks if rent is late. I have two laundry loads sitting downstairs. I have work tomorrow.”
“Elara.”
“No. Whoever sent that is confused. I’m your waitress.”
Julian’s expression darkened.
“They aren’t confused.”
He held up the phone.
“They photographed you outside your home.”
That silenced her.
Marcus moved toward the windows.
“Security sweep now.”
The guards scattered.
Elara looked back at Julian.
“This happened because of the gift?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
His jaw tightened.
“Someone was already watching you.”
A cold feeling traveled down her spine.
“For how long?”
Julian didn’t answer.
That frightened her more than anything.
He reached for her hand.
Elara instinctively pulled back.
Julian stopped.
For the first time that evening, something almost gentle appeared in his face.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I know.”
“Then trust me for ten minutes.”
“That’s difficult when there are men with guns checking the windows.”
“They’re checking them because somebody may be outside with another one.”
Elara stared at him.
Marcus returned.
“Rear exit compromised.”
Julian’s eyes sharpened.
“What?”
“Black SUV in the alley. Plates are fake.”
“Front?”
“Two vehicles across the street.”
Julian looked toward the tall windows.
Snow fell heavily outside.
The beautiful Christmas Eve suddenly felt like a locked room.
Elara whispered, “What do they want?”
Julian didn’t answer immediately.
Then he reached toward his right hand.
He removed a heavy silver ring.
Black stone.
A small raven engraved across it.
Marcus stiffened.
“Julian.”
Julian ignored him.
He took Elara’s left hand.
“What are you doing?”
“Giving them a reason to hesitate.”
“Who?”
“My enemies.”
Before she could pull away, Julian slid the ring onto her finger.
It was far too large.
Elara stared at it.
“Julian.”
His men stared too.
Marcus looked almost alarmed.
Julian closed Elara’s fingers around the ring.
“From this moment until I say otherwise, nobody touches you.”
Elara’s pulse thundered.
“You’re making this worse.”
“No.”
His eyes met hers.
“I’m making you expensive.”
The front doors shook.
Once.
Hard.
Everyone turned.
Marcus drew his weapon.
Another guard reached beneath his jacket.
The doors opened.
A man in a dark overcoat stepped through the snow.
He smiled when he saw Elara wearing Julian’s ring.
Then he said the one name Julian had not heard in eleven years.
“Gabriel Vane.”
May you like
Julian went white.
And the stranger reached inside his coat.
