His Dark Reign

12. The copycat

Marcus looked pathetic.

The boy who had once strutted through school like a pit bull at Sanchez’s heel now lay in a hospital bed, his arms suspended in plaster casts. His jaw was swollen, his face battered, but what unnerved Adam most was the way Marcus stared at the ceiling—broken in more ways than bone.

Adam slipped into the room quietly. No one noticed him. Sanchez hadn’t even bothered to show up; he was too busy keeping up appearances, pretending this hadn’t cracked his throne.

Adam stood at the foot of the bed. “Who did it?”

Marcus’s eyes flickered. For a moment, fear flashed there—real, raw fear. Then he shook his head. “I… I don’t know.”

Adam stepped closer. “Marcus. Listen carefully. I planned this.”

His voice dropped, low and venomous.

“Every detail of what happened to you—it was supposed to come from me. But it didn’t. Someone else beat me to it. Who?”

Marcus trembled, his lips pale. “It was dark. Fast. I didn’t… I didn’t see. Just… a shadow.”

Adam leaned closer until his reflection loomed over Marcus’s terrified face.

“Then that shadow stole my revenge.”

The heart monitor ticked faster as Marcus turned his head away, too afraid to meet Adam’s eyes.

Adam smirked, but inside his chest, unease churned.

---

Back at school, the rumors swirled like wildfire.

“Marcus got jumped—both arms shattered!”

“They say it was a gang from another school.”

“No way, I heard it was some freak accident—he fell.”

“Bullshit. He was screaming about someone hunting him.”

Sanchez laughed too loudly when people asked. He mocked Marcus for being weak, for letting it happen. But Adam saw the truth in Sanchez’s eyes: fear.

And Elena… Elena was quieter now, glancing over her shoulder more often, her confidence wavering. The cracks were spreading.

Adam should’ve been savoring it. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw Marcus’s terrified whisper: a shadow.

---

At his locker the next day, a soft voice cut through the noise.

“Adam.”

He turned. Lilith leaned casually against the locker beside his, her eyes glinting with amusement.

“You visited Marcus,” she said. Not a question. A statement.

Adam’s jaw tightened. “You’ve been watching me?”

Lilith smiled faintly. “You’re worth watching.”

He slammed his locker shut. “What do you want?”

“Maybe the same thing you do,” she purred. “I like the way you think. Calculated. Precise. But there’s someone out there… helping you, aren’t they? Beating you at your own game.”

Adam froze.

Lilith’s smile widened. “Don’t look so surprised. You’re not the only predator in this place.”

Malick hissed violently in Adam’s head: She knows too much. Kill her now.

But Adam didn’t move. He couldn’t. Because beneath her taunt, beneath her sly grin, there was something else—an invitation.

“Stay away from me,” Adam snapped, his voice lower than he intended.

Lilith tilted her head, studying him like he was the most fascinating puzzle in the world. Then she whispered just loud enough for him to hear:

“You’ll thank me later.”

She walked away, her laughter soft and haunting.

---

That night, Adam sat alone in his room, gripping the edge of his desk. The shadows writhed more violently than usual, Malick restless, snarling.

She interferes. She undermines. We strike her next.

Adam’s chest heaved, his thoughts tangled between rage, suspicion, and something else—something dangerous. Attraction.

And then, his phone buzzed.

NEW MESSAGE: SIMON IN HOSPITAL. LEG CRUSHED.

Adam’s hand went cold. Simon was supposed to be after Elena. Another piece of his plan, stolen.

The screen blurred as his grip trembled. Someone was gutting his revenge, strike by strike, exactly how he had envisioned it.

And Adam realized with a sickening chill: he wasn’t in control anymore.