Chapter 9 Obsession in the Shadows

Adrian's POV

There's something intoxicating about watching someone who doesn't know they're being watched.

Lyra always had that unawareness of the hold she had on people. She moved through the world like she was untouched, separate from the chaos around her, oblivious to the way eyes followed her, lingering a second too long, drawn in by something they couldn't quite name. But I knew. I had always known. She had that rare, dangerous kind of beauty,the kind that invited both admiration and destruction. The kind that made men want to possess her, to keep her, to unravel her.

And for a long time, I let her believe she could walk away from me. Let her think she had choices, that she was in control. That was her mistake.

Women like Lyra? They weren't meant for ordinary lives. They weren't meant for mundane existences, settling into comfortable routines, blending into the background. No, women like her were meant to be claimed, meant to be watched, meant to be followed by the kind of men who didn't just admire from a distance but reached out and took what they wanted. Men like me.

Because I saw past the innocence, past the wide eyes and soft smiles. I saw the truth beneath the mask, the fear behind the defiance. She wasn't as untouchable as she pretended to be. There was something fragile there, something waiting to be shattered: and I wanted to be the one to break her. Not to destroy her, no. Breaking something didn't always mean ruining it. Sometimes, it meant reshaping it, molding it into what it was always meant to be.

She thought she could fight it. That she could stand her ground, keep me at a distance. I let her believe that for a while, amused by her resistance, intrigued by the fire in her eyes whenever I got too close. But fire could be tamed. Controlled. And hers? It burned bright, but it would flicker and fade in the presence of something stronger.

And I was stronger.

She didn't realize how deep she was already in. She thought she was free, but freedom was an illusion. A pretty lie she told herself when, in reality, she had been mine from the moment I set eyes on her.

And it was beautiful.

I leaned back in the leather seat of my car, parked a few streets away from Leo's estate. The windows were tinted dark enough that no one could see inside, but my view of the house was clear. I had been watching her for days now, tracking her movements, studying every little detail.

It was almost pathetic how easily she'd fallen into Leo's trap.

She didn't even realize the danger she was in.

But she would.

I gave her space, just enough time to think she was free. But she was never free of me. Not really. I had been patient, letting her play house in Leo's world, watching her get tangled in his web. And now, seeing her in his space, wrapped in his influence, only made me want her more.

There was a thrill in it. A challenge.

She was the perfect mix of innocence and rebellion, and every time she resisted, it only made me hungrier.

It wasn't just her beauty, or the way her lips parted slightly when she was nervous, or the way her pulse fluttered against her throat when she felt trapped.

It was deeper than that.

It was who she reminded me of.

Leah.

The name was like a blade to my chest, carving through flesh, cutting deeper with every heartbeat.

Lyra doesn't know. She can't know. Leah was before her time. Before the blood, before the war, before Leo fucking Weston entered my world like a wrecking ball and took everything from me.

Leah was pure, untouched by the darkness I swam in.

But Lyra...

Lyra had fire.

And unlike Leah, Lyra could be bent, broken. She could be mine.

I ran a hand through my hair, smirking at the thought.

I didn't just want to take Lyra from Leo.

I wanted to ruin her for him.

I wanted her so tangled in me that by the time he realized what was happening, it would be too late.

She would already belong to me.

It was poetic, really. A perfect way to make him suffer. Leo thought he owned this city, thought he owned her. But I knew him. I knew how he operated, how his mind worked. His need for control, his obsession with power, it was his greatest weakness.

And Lyra?

She was going to be the weapon I used to cut him down.

My phone buzzed against the dashboard, pulling me from my thoughts. I glanced at the screen, a message from one of my men stationed near the estate.

Saw her leave the house. Alone. Want me to follow?

A slow, satisfied grin spread across my lips.

Lyra never went far without Leo's shadow looming over her. Maybe she was finally feeling it: that pull, that unease that told her something wasn't right. Maybe she was starting to sense me.

No. I'll handle it.

I tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and exhaled slowly, feeling the rush of anticipation build inside me.

I had been patient long enough.

For weeks, I had played this game in the shadows, letting Leo think he was in control, letting him believe that Lyra was his. But I was done waiting.

The moment was close.

It was time to make my move.

There was a darkness inside me that I had spent years trying to drown. A monster that had woken the day Leo took Leah from me.

I never had the chance to fight for her.

But Lyra?

Lyra was my redemption.

My chance to take back what was stolen from me.

I imagined Leo's face when he realized what I'd done. The rage. The helplessness.

He wouldn't be able to do a damn thing.

Not when Lyra was already too deep in my world to escape.

And the best part?

He would know I didn't take her because I needed to.

I took her because I wanted to.

I started the car, the low purr of the engine humming through my veins as I pulled away from the curb. The streetlights blurred past me as I drove, my mind locked onto the plan forming in my head.

I had always been a patient man.

But patience was wearing thin.

She was ready.

She just didn't know it yet.

I parked near the old warehouse district, my fingers tapping against the steering wheel as I let the anticipation settle.

It had been our place once: mine and Lyra's.

Before Leo.

Before everything changed.

The memory hit me like a punch to the gut.

The way she used to look at me. The way her eyes would light up with something close to admiration before she tried to hide it.

She used to trust me.

And she would again.

I pulled out my phone, opening a secure line. The call rang twice before a voice answered.

"You're in position?" I asked, my voice smooth, controlled.

"Yes. She's still alone," my man confirmed. "She's at the garden now."

I smiled.

Perfect.

I ended the call and stepped out of the car, straightening my jacket as I walked toward the edge of the property. I wouldn't approach her tonight.

Not yet.

But she would know I was there.

A whisper in the dark. A shadow in the corner of her vision.

The moment she started looking for me, the moment she started wondering if she was truly safe: that's when I'd strike.

I stood there, just beyond the estate's boundary, my eyes locked onto the garden.

And there she was.

Lyra.

Alone.

The moonlight cast a soft glow on her face, illuminating the conflict in her expression. Even from this distance, I could see it: the way her arms wrapped around herself, the way she kept glancing over her shoulder, her instincts screaming that something was wrong.

She felt me.

She just didn't know it yet.

I watched as she exhaled deeply, running a hand through her hair before turning toward the house again.

I let out a slow breath, my smirk widening.

Soon, Lyra.

I would wait just a little longer. Let her feel the walls closing in.

Let her realize she needed me.

And when the moment was right?

I'd take what was mine.