Chapter 2 : The First Threads of Fate

[Clark Pov]

The next morning arrived like any other too early, too bright, and far too heavy with the weight of endless tasks ahead. I rubbed my eyes and dragged myself into the shower, the cold water shocking me into wakefulness. Mara had already left for her part-time job at a café, leaving only a scribbled note on the table.

Don’t forget to eat breakfast, or I’ll haunt you.

I chuckled, shaking my head. She always worried, though she hid it behind jokes.

At St. Dominic’s, the halls were already filled with the symphony of footsteps, the shrill beep of machines, and the muted groans of patients. My first stop was pediatrics, where little Liam, a boy battling leukemia, was waiting for his morning vitals. His pale face lit up the moment I walked in.

Nurse Clark! he exclaimed, weak but excited.

I smiled, crouching to his level. Good morning, buddy. Ready to beat me at another drawing contest later?

He grinned. I already started! He pointed to a crayon sketch by his bed bright suns and superheroes with capes.

Moments like these reminded me why I stayed. The innocence in their smiles, the way their little hearts believed in hope it was worth every sleepless night. But not everyone I encountered was as gentle.

By midday, I was called to the ER to assist. A man had been brought in, beaten, bloody, and clearly caught in something darker than a bar fight. His tattoo peeked out beneath his shirt, a symbol I didn’t recognize but one that made the doctor exchange uneasy glances with the police.

I did my job anyway. My hands didn’t judge; they healed.

Yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that danger was inching closer, brushing against the edges of my quiet life.

[*Steven’s P**ov*]

The night had been unkind. Rival gangs were growing bolder, trying to slice pieces of my empire. Last night, I had ordered Marco to send a clear message. Today, news came back two of my men were hospitalized, one barely hanging on.

They hit harder than expected, Boss. *We took care of most of them, but Luis didn’t make i**t*, my jaw tightened as Marco gave the report.

Silence fell heavy in the room. I crushed the cigarette between my fingers, ignoring the sting. Death was not unfamiliar to me but losing loyal men left scars only I knew.

Find the one responsible,” I ordered. “I don’t want a warning sent. I want an example made.

Marco nodded grimly.

Business resumed as always. Meetings with allies, transactions over encrypted lines, and threats delivered through shadows. But behind every deal, I felt a flicker of unease. Rivalries were one thing but something about this week carried a different weight, as if destiny itself had shifted.

And in moments of stillness, when I caught my reflection in the tinted glass, I saw not only the merciless lord but the emptiness beneath it.

[Clark Pov]

Night shifts were harder. Fatigue clung to my body, but there was no room for weakness here. I was halfway through rounds when Mara called.

Clark, don’t freak out, but… She hesitated. There were black cars circling near our apartment earlier. I don’t know if it’s just rich people or…

Stay inside. Lock the door I frowned.

You sound like Dad, she teased lightly, but I could hear the tremor in her voice.

I promised to check when I got home, though unease gnawed at my chest. Black cars. Convoys. The same kind I had seen last night.

After ending the call, I glanced at Liam’s room through the glass window. He was asleep, clutching his superhero drawing close. Innocence sleeping in a world so easily stained by darkness.

I wanted to protect it, protect him, protect Mara, protect myself. But against what?

I didn’t know then that the danger circling closer wasn’t meant to destroy me but to claim me.

[*Steven’s P**ov*]

By midnight, I needed air. I left the penthouse without ceremony, slipping into the backseat of the Aston Martin.

Where to, Boss? Marco asked.

Drive. Nowhere. Everywhere.

The city blurred past, neon bleeding into night. When the car slowed near St. Dominic’s Medical Center, I glanced out the window. Hospitals had always unsettled me places where blood was cleaned, but never forgotten.

And then I saw him.

A boy in a white uniform stepped out of the hospital doors, exhaustion written in the curve of his shoulders. Yet even from a distance, there was something unyieldingly gentle in his aura. Soft. Untouched. For a heartbeat too long, I forgot to breathe.

Boss? marco notice it.

Nothing, I said quickly, though my gaze lingered.

I didn’t even know his name then. But the innocence in his eyes though I had only seen them for a second struck through me sharper than any blade.

For the first time in years, the ruthless Steven Monadragon faltered.

[*Clark’s P**ov*]

I adjusted my bag, ready to walk home. A low hum filled the street a sleek black car idling by the curb. Its tinted windows gleamed under the streetlight, the kind of car that screamed both wealth and danger.

I tried not to stare, but a strange chill crawled down my spine.

As I walked past, I felt it. Someone’s gaze. Heavy. Piercing. Watching me.

I turned my head just slightly and caught the faint outline of a man inside. Dark suit. Sharp features. Eyes that felt like fire even from a distance. Our worlds touched for the first time in that fleeting moment. And though I looked away, my heart was no longer steady.

...--------end of chapter 2--------...

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