Eternal Ties

Part 1

Naomi Monroe tugged at the hem of her black dress, trying to ignore the way the tight fabric clung to her curves. She wasn’t one for clubs—never had been—but her friends had insisted. It was Trina’s birthday, and they had made a pact to do whatever she wanted tonight. So here Naomi was, standing awkwardly at the bar of La Notte Oscura, a nightclub that reeked of excess and mystery.

The air was thick with the smell of expensive perfume, sweat, and a hint of something metallic she couldn’t quite place. A bass-heavy beat pulsed through the dimly lit space, vibrating through her chest. Red and black dominated the décor—deep velvet curtains, sleek leather booths, and the occasional glint of gold. The lights were low, giving everything a shadowy, almost sinister feel.

Naomi sipped her drink, a watered-down cocktail she didn’t really want, and scanned the room. Her friends had disappeared into the throng of bodies on the dance floor, lost in the music and the moment. She tried to do the same, but the sense of unease gnawed at her. Something felt off tonight. Maybe it was the club’s energy, or maybe it was the way the darkness seemed to cling to the corners of the room, like it was alive, watching.

She wasn’t here for this. The city’s nightlife, with its flashing lights and empty conversations, held no appeal. But Naomi had been trying to be more social, to push past the loneliness that had settled in her chest since she moved to New York three years ago. Work had been her solace—a grueling schedule that left little time for anything else. But now, standing here in this club, she realized how hollow that had become.

Her eyes drifted over the crowd, a sea of faces blurred by motion and dim light. And then she saw him.

For a moment, Naomi thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. A man stood in the shadows of the VIP section, half-hidden by the velvet ropes and the bodies that guarded the entrance like sentinels. He was tall, dressed in a tailored black suit that fit him like a second skin. But it wasn’t his clothes or his height that drew her in—it was his eyes. Even from across the room, they pierced through the darkness, sharp and intense, locking onto her with a familiarity that sent a shock of recognition through her.

Her heart skipped a beat. It couldn’t be.

She blinked, trying to clear the image from her mind, but he was still there, watching her with an expression she couldn’t read. A cold shiver ran down her spine as memories flooded back, unbidden and unwelcome. Eight years of trying to forget his face, of burying the hurt and the unanswered questions, and yet here he was—Marco De Luca, the man who had disappeared from her life without a word.

Naomi’s grip tightened around her glass, the cold condensation seeping into her palm. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. How could it be him? Marco had vanished after their graduation, leaving her with nothing but silence and a heart full of shattered dreams. She had searched for him, desperate for answers, but he had vanished as if he had never existed. And now, out of nowhere, he was here, in this club, looking at her like no time had passed at all.

She felt a wave of anger rise in her chest, mingling with the confusion and the old, unresolved ache. How dare he show up now, after all this time, as if he hadn’t left her behind like a discarded memory? Her mind screamed at her to walk away, to leave the club and never look back. But her feet were rooted to the spot, her body betraying the logic she tried to cling to.

Marco moved then, a slight shift in the shadows that brought him into the light. The years had changed him, but not in the way time changes most people. His face was as handsome as she remembered—sharp jawline, high cheekbones, lips that had once whispered promises in her ear. But there was something else now, something that hadn’t been there before. His skin was paler, almost translucent under the dim lights, and his eyes—those piercing, dark eyes—held a coldness that hadn’t been there before.

Naomi’s breath caught in her throat as he began to walk toward her, the crowd parting for him like water around a stone. Every instinct screamed at her to run, to escape before he reached her, but she couldn’t move. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat a painful reminder of the love she had lost and the betrayal she had never been able to forget.

“Naomi,” he said, his voice low and smooth, tinged with an accent that had always made her knees weak.

She hadn’t heard that voice in eight years, but it was as familiar to her as her own heartbeat. The sound of it now was like a ghost from the past, bringing with it all the pain and all the longing she had tried so hard to bury. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet his gaze, even though the intensity of it threatened to drown her.

“What are you doing here?” The words came out harsher than she intended, but she didn’t care. He didn’t get to waltz back into her life without an explanation, without some acknowledgment of what he had done to her.

Marco stopped a few feet away, close enough that she could see the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, but far enough that she felt the distance between them like a chasm. His eyes softened, just for a moment, but it was enough to remind her of the man he had once been, the man she had fallen in love with.

“I own here,” he said, as if that could somehow justify everything. "But, I'm glad to see you."

Naomi shook her head, her anger rising to the surface. “Well good for you. You could have just  kept ignoring me. After eight years, you just walk up to me and expect me to—what? Just forget everything?  Catch up on old times? Pretend like you didn’t disappear without a word?”

The hurt in her voice was unmistakable, and for a moment, she thought she saw something flicker in his eyes—regret, maybe, or guilt. But then it was gone, replaced by the cold mask he had worn when she first saw him.

“There are things you don’t understand, Naomi. Things I couldn’t tell you back then.”

“Then tell me now,” she challenged, her voice trembling with the force of the emotions she had kept bottled up for so long. “What could have possibly been so important that you had to leave me like that? No call, no note, nothing. You broke me, Marco.”

He flinched at her words, a slight twitch of his jaw the only indication that they had hit their mark. For a moment, he looked away, as if gathering his thoughts. When he looked back at her, his expression was unreadable.

“I’m not the man you knew, Naomi. I’m not even sure I’m still a man at all.” The cryptic words hung in the air between them, thick with an ominous weight that made her stomach twist in knots.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. There was something in his tone that made her think this was more than just an excuse.

He stepped closer, invading her space in a way that was both familiar and unsettling. Naomi held her ground, though every instinct screamed at her to back away. When he spoke again, his voice was so low she had to strain to hear it over the pounding music.

“Things happened. Things that changed me in ways I can’t fully explain. But I never stopped thinking about you. I never stopped wanting you.” His words were laced with a desperation that she hadn’t expected, and for a moment, she could almost believe him.

But then reality crashed back in, reminding her of the years of silence, the unanswered questions, the nights she had cried herself to sleep, wondering why she wasn’t enough for him to stay. She couldn’t let him get under her skin again. Not after all this time.

“You can’t just walk back into my life and expect me to forgive you,” she said, her voice trembling with the effort it took to hold herself together. “I deserve more than that, Marco. I deserve the truth.”

He reached out then, his fingers brushing against her arm. His touch was cool, almost cold, and it sent a shiver down her spine. Naomi looked up at him, searching his eyes for any sign of the man she had once loved. But all she saw was darkness—deep, endless darkness.

“You’re right,” he said softly. “You do deserve the truth. But it’s a truth that might make you wish you had never seen me again.”

Before she could respond, a figure emerged from the shadows behind Marco, tall and menacing, with an aura of danger that sent her pulse racing. Naomi’s breath hitched as she realized this stranger wasn’t just a bodyguard or a friend. The way he looked at Marco, the way he held himself—it was as if he was something more, something… other.

“We need to go,” the stranger said, his voice smooth and commanding, though he didn’t bother looking at Naomi. “Dinner is waiting.”

Marco glanced at the stranger, then back at Naomi. For a moment, she saw a flash of something in his eyes—hunger, desperation, perhaps, or urgency. Whatever it was, it made her heart race with a mix of anxiety and dread.

“I have to go,” he said, his voice laced with regret. “But this isn’t over, Naomi. Now that I have your scent, I will find you again. And when I do, I’ll give you the answers you deserve.”

Before she could say anything, Marco turned and disappeared into the crowd, the stranger close on his heels. Naomi stood there, frozen, her mind racing with everything that had just happened. The drink in her hand was long forgotten, the ice melting as the club’s atmosphere pressed in on her from all sides.

Her heart pounded in her chest, a wild, erratic rhythm that mirrored the storm of emotions inside her. Anger, confusion, fear, and a lingering sense of longing all battled for dominance, leaving her shaken and unsure.

But one thing was clear—whatever had happened to Marco, whatever dark truth he was hiding, it was far from over. Naomi could feel it in the way his words lingered in her mind, in the strange sense of unfinished business that settled over her like a heavy fog.

The thrum of the music faded into the background as she replayed the encounter in her mind, trying to piece together what had just happened. Marco’s cryptic words echoed in her thoughts—I’m not the man you knew. I’m not even sure I’m still a man at all. Now that I have you scent... What could he possibly mean by that? And who was that stranger, the one who had appeared out of nowhere and whisked him away?

She looked around the club, half expecting to see Marco’s face in the crowd again, but there was nothing. He was gone, as suddenly as he had appeared, leaving her with more questions than answers. The energy in the club had shifted, the pulse of the music now feeling ominous, as if the darkness itself had swallowed Marco whole.

Naomi’s hands trembled as she set her drink down on the bar, the glass slipping slightly as the condensation made it slick. She felt the urge to follow him, to find out where he had gone and demand the truth he had promised her. But her rational mind held her back. This wasn’t the time or place to chase after ghosts of the past—especially not when those ghosts were wrapped in shadows and danger.

A hand on her shoulder jolted her from her thoughts, and she turned quickly, her heart leaping into her throat. But it was only Trina, her best friend, looking at her with concern written all over her face.

“Hey, are you okay?” Trina asked, her voice barely audible over the music. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Naomi forced a smile, though she knew it probably looked as shaky as she felt. “I’m fine,” she lied, trying to steady her voice. “Just… thought I saw someone I knew.”

Trina narrowed her eyes, not buying the explanation for a second. “Someone you knew? Naomi, you look like you’ve seen a zombie apocalypse. Who was it?”

Naomi hesitated, debating whether to confide in her friend. Trina had been there for her during those long, painful months after Marco had disappeared, had listened to her cry, had tried to help her move on. But she had never fully understood why Naomi had been so devastated—after all, they were young, fresh out of college, with the world ahead of them. Breakups happened, people moved on. But Marco had been different. He had been the one, or so Naomi had thought.

“It was Marco,” Naomi finally said, her voice barely a whisper, as if speaking the name would make it real, make the encounter something she couldn’t just brush aside.

Trina’s eyes widened in shock. “Marco? As in the Marco? The one who ghosted you and left you heartbroken? Here? Tonight?”

Naomi nodded, the weight of the truth settling in her chest like a stone. “Yeah. And he… he looked different, Trina. Something’s not right. He said some weird things, and then this guy showed up, and they just… left.”

Trina grabbed Naomi’s arm, pulling her closer so she could hear her better. “What did he say? Naomi, are you sure it was him?”

“I’m sure,” Naomi said, her voice firm despite the confusion swirling in her mind. “He said he wasn’t the same person anymore, that he’s changed in ways I wouldn’t understand. And the way he looked at me… it was like he was desperate, or straved... I can't explain it.”

Trina frowned, her grip on Naomi’s arm tightening. “That sounds seriously messed up. What are you going to do?”

Naomi shook her head, at a loss for what to say. She had no idea what she was going to do. The rational part of her wanted to forget she had seen him, to chalk it up to a strange, surreal encounter and move on with her life. But the part of her that had never stopped loving him, that still carried the scars of his sudden departure, wouldn’t let it go.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “But I need to know what happened to him, why he left, and why he’s back now. I can’t just pretend this didn’t happen.”

Trina sighed, her expression softening with sympathy. “I get it. But Naomi, please be careful. If he’s involved in something dangerous, you don’t want to get caught up in it. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

Naomi nodded, though she knew it was a promise easier said than kept. There was something about the way Marco had looked at her, something in his eyes that made her think he was in more trouble than she could have ever imagined. And despite all the pain he had caused her, she couldn’t just walk away—not when the answers she had been seeking for so long were finally within reach.

“I’ll be careful,” Naomi said, trying to reassure both Trina and herself. “But I can’t let this go. Not until I know the truth.”

Trina pulled her into a hug, and for a moment, Naomi allowed herself to lean into the comfort of her friend’s embrace, trying to steady the turmoil inside her. But as Trina pulled away and rejoined their group of friends, Naomi’s resolve only hardened.

She took a deep breath, trying to clear her mind. The night was far from over, and she knew this was just the beginning of something that could either give her the closure she had been longing for or drag her deeper into a world she didn’t understand.

With one last glance at the dark corners of the club, Naomi turned and followed her friends, but her mind was racing with plans, questions, and the overwhelming need for Marco to keep his promise and to find her again.

Whatever the truth was, she would uncover it.