The night was quiet — too quiet for Leonardo Romano's liking.
The storm had passed, but it had left the air heavy with electricity and silence.
He sat behind his mahogany desk, half-hidden in the dim glow of his lamp.
The world outside moved on: people slept, lights flickered across the city, but Leonardo was still.
Except for his hand.
His fingers toyed with a silver anklet, its small bells whispering every time he moved.
The sound crawled into his veins, delicate and maddening.
He didn't even know her name.
Just her reflection — caught in the passing glass of a roadside mirror, sunlight tangling in her chestnut hair.
Honey-brown eyes, red saree, a flash of silver around her ankle — and then she vanished.
But since that moment, his mind refused to let her go.
He had told himself it was irritation — that she was a distraction he couldn't afford.
But every night, that distant jingle would follow him like a ghost he couldn't kill.
A sharp knock broke the trance.
He didn't look up. "Come in."
Alex stepped in, file in hand. "You're still awake," he said, his tone heavy with concern.
Leonardo gave a dry smirk. "You say that as if I ever sleep."
Alex walked up to the desk, his eyes on the little trinket in his brother's hand. "That thing again? You've been staring at it for days."
Leo said nothing. The anklet shimmered in the lamplight-delicate, out of place in his brutal world.
Alex let out a sigh and laid the file down. "We found more about Belrum Moren. His name's popping up again in supply deals. He's trying to grow his network under different aliases. We can visit him tomorrow, confront him directly if you want."
At that, Leonardo finally looked up. His jaw tightened-not because of Belrum's name, but because Alex's voice had pulled him back from that strange haze he'd been lost in.
"Tomorrow," he said, his voice calm but cold. "I want him to see who he crossed."
-----
Alex nodded but didn't move immediately. He studied Leo — the way his brother's eyes lingered on that anklet, as if it carried more weight than a piece of metal should.
"You're distracted," Alex said quietly. "That's not like you."
Leo leaned back, his expression unreadable. "I'm not distracted."
"Then what is it?
Leonardo's thumb brushed the anklet again, the faint bells trembling between his fingers.
He didn't answer immediately.
When he did, his voice was low — rough around the edges.
"Something I saw," he murmured. "Something I shouldn't care about… but I do."
Alex frowned. "Her?"
Leonardo's eyes flickered, like steel catching light.
He let out a short, mirthless breath.
"She is not real," he muttered to himself as if reassuring himself. "Maybe just my imagination… Leave it. Stop searching for her. And focus on Belrum Moren's destruction now."
The words came out sharp, final — like an order.
But Alex caught the faint hesitation beneath them.
And in the ensuing silence, the anklet chimed again — soft, defiant.
-----
After Alex had gone, silence crept in once more.
Leonardo poured another glass for himself, with the amber liquid sparkling like fire.
He sat there, unmoving, the glass untouched in his hand.
Outside, the city buzzed faintly — cars, laughter, life — but in this room, only that sound.
Chime.
He closed his eyes. And there she was again — the red silk brushing against her ankle, the faint tinkle of silver bells, that unguarded smile that didn't belong in his world. This thought should have disgusted him. Instead, it burned. A dangerous heat crawled up his neck - frustration, hunger, something he couldn't name.
He wanted to see her again.
Not to talk.
Not to touch.
Just to prove she was real — that his mind hadn't invented her to torment him. He closed his fingers tighter around the anklet, until the little bells stopped jingling.
"Tomorrow," he whispered to himself, staring out the window. "Tomorrow I finish what you started BELRUM MOREN."
He wasn't talking about her.
Not yet.
But fate was already quietly weaving their threads together-inexorably-while the ringing of silver bells echoed in the darkness.