Chapter 5 The Man in Black

It was a Thursday.

Thursdays were always the worst. Meatloaf day, followed by cleaning duty, followed by hours of pretending not to exist while the staff ignored us and the older kids found new ways to make the younger ones cry.

So when Miss Halden slammed the door open during lunch, her heels echoing through the cafeteria, I didn't even flinch. The sound was sharp and angry, just like everything else in this place.

"Elara!" she barked. "Get up."

Every fork in the cafeteria stopped moving. Thirty pairs of eyes turned toward me. Some curious, some relieved it wasn't them being called.

I stood slowly, hiding the slight limp in my left leg. Tessa had shoved me down the stairs earlier, just for fun. Just because she could. I didn't give her the satisfaction of looking back at her smug face.

Miss Halden's nails dug into my arm as she pulled me down the hallway. Her grip was tight enough to leave marks. It always was.

"There's someone here for you," she snapped, her voice sharp with irritation. "God knows why anyone would want you."

I blinked, confusion washing over me. Nobody came for kids like me. Nobody came for any of us.

"Who?" I asked.

She didn't answer. She never answered questions she didn't want to.

The front office smelled like stale paper and burnt coffee. I'd been in here only once before, when I got caught sneaking books from the storage closet. That had earned me three days without dinner and a lecture about stealing.

But today, it felt different. The air was heavier somehow. Charged.

There was someone standing near the window. A man. Tall and still, like a statue. Dressed in black from head to toe. His coat looked expensive, the kind of expensive that meant power. His shoes were polished to a shine that reflected the overhead lights.

He didn't move when I walked in, but I felt it anyway. His attention shifted. Settled on me.

Miss Halden sniffed with disgust. "She's all yours. Good luck with that."

She left without another word, her heels clicking away down the hall.

I stared at the man's back. He was broader than I remembered. Older. There was something different about the way he held himself now. More dangerous.

He turned slowly.

And I remembered.

Those eyes.

Not brown. Not amber. Something darker, deeper. The kind of eyes that had seen too much and forgotten nothing. The kind of eyes that could look right through you and see everything you were trying to hide.

My throat closed up. My heart started beating faster.

He stepped closer, and I caught his scent. Clean soap and something else. Something that reminded me of rain and leather and safety.

"You've grown," he said.

His voice was exactly like I remembered it. Rough around the edges but steady. Like it belonged in a world far away from this cold gray place.

"Who... who are you?" I whispered, even though I knew. Even though I'd been waiting for him for six years.

He didn't answer that question directly.

Instead, he pulled something from his coat pocket. Something small and familiar that made my breath catch.

Another locket.

I reached up instinctively, touching the one still around my neck. The one I'd protected for all these years. This new one was different. Older. The gold was blackened in places, burned.

"You kept it," he said, his voice unreadable.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

"Good," he said, tucking the burned locket back into his pocket. "Because I'm keeping you now."

The drive away from the orphanage was silent.

I sat in the backseat of a sleek black car, watching the cold gray world pass by through tinted windows. The seats were leather, soft and warm. Nothing like the hard plastic chairs and thin mattresses I was used to.

He was in the front seat, speaking softly into his phone in another language. Russian, maybe. Or something Eastern European. His voice was different when he spoke it. Sharper. More commanding.

I didn't ask where we were going. I didn't ask who he really was or why he'd waited so long to come back.

Some part of me already knew the answers wouldn't be simple.

We stopped at a private airstrip outside the city. A jet waited on the tarmac, engines humming low under the cloudy afternoon sky. Men in black suits nodded as we passed. They all looked at him with a mixture of respect and fear.

They looked at him like he was dangerous. Powerful. Untouchable.

And for some reason that I couldn't understand, mine.

He guided me up the steps with a hand on my lower back. His touch was warm through my thin sweater. It felt solid and real in a way nothing had for years.

The inside of the jet was all cream leather and polished wood. Nicer than any room I'd ever been in.

"You still haven't told me who you are," I said once we were seated and the door had closed behind us.

He poured himself a drink from a crystal bottle. The glass clinked softly when he set it down.

"I'm the man who kept his promise," he said finally.

"And where are we going?"

"Somewhere safe."

That wasn't really an answer. But something in his tone told me not to push. Not yet.

As the jet lifted into the sky, I leaned back in the leather seat and watched him through half-lowered lashes. He was reading something on a tablet, his face serious and focused.

He was older now. Colder. Scarier than the man who'd saved me all those years ago.

But familiar in ways that made my chest tight.

His presence filled the small cabin. Every time he moved, every time he breathed, I was aware of it. My heartbeat seemed to follow some rhythm he set without knowing it.

I didn't know what I was to him. A responsibility? A burden? Something else entirely?

But I knew this much: I wasn't alone anymore.

And maybe, just maybe, he hadn't forgotten me after all.

He pulled out his phone and checked something. His face remained calm, but I saw his jaw tighten slightly.

"How long until we land?" I asked.

"Two hours," he said, tucking the phone away. "You should rest."

"I'm not tired."

He looked at me for a long moment. "You will be."

There was something in his voice that made me curious. Not threatening, but... different. Like he knew something I didn't.

The plane began its descent as the sun started to set. Through the small window, I could see mountains in the distance. Trees stretched out below us, thick and green. Wherever we were going, it was far from the city.

Far from everything I'd ever known.

He stood up as we touched down, straightening his coat.

"Welcome home, Elara," he said quietly.

Home. The word felt strange coming from his mouth. I'd never had a real home before.

As the plane door opened, cool mountain air rushed in. I could smell pine trees and something else. Something clean and wild.

A black car waited on the small runway. Another man in a dark suit stood beside it, but he stayed back when we approached.

Everything felt different here. Quieter. More dangerous in a way I couldn't name.

I looked up at the man who'd kept his promise, and for the first time in years, I wondered what I'd gotten myself into.