"The truth is rarely pure and never simple." - Oscar Wilde

Saint

The city hummed with its usual nocturnal energy, a symphony of sirens, car horns, and distant music. I sat in my office, the glow of the computer screen illuminating the tense lines of my face. Sal's report lay before me, the details sparse but intriguing. The man from the auction was Liam Moreau.

The information hit me with unexpected force. It wasn't just a random encounter; there was a history there, a connection that ran deeper than I'd imagined. I replayed the security footage, watching Liam's interaction with Veronica. His demeanor was polite, almost charming, but there was something in his eyes that hinted at something darker. A possessiveness, perhaps? Or something more sinister?

My phone rang, the insistent buzz cutting through my concentration. It was Veronica. Her voice, usually so strong and confident, was laced with fear.

"Saint," she whispered, "I need your help."

My gut clenched. "What is it, Veronica?" I asked, my voice low and urgent.

"There are roses, Saint. Red roses. They were on my kitchen counter when I got home. I didn't…" Her voice trailed off, choked with emotion.

"Veronica, stay calm," I said, trying to keep my own anxiety in check. "Don't touch anything. I'm on my way."

I grabbed my jacket and keys, my mind racing. Roses. It was a message, a twisted, unsettling message. Someone was playing a dangerous game, and Veronica was caught in the crossfire. I couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning, that the darkness was closing in. I had to get to her. I had to protect her.

As I sped through the city streets, the Wilde quote echoed in my mind. The truth about the Moreaus, about Veronica's past, was clearly complex and deeply buried. Unraveling it wouldn't be easy, but I knew I had to. For Veronica's sake. For my own. I just prayed I wasn't too late.

I pushed the speed limit, weaving through the late-night traffic, my mind a whirlwind of possibilities, all of them dark. What if it wasn't just roses? What if he was already there? The thought sent a jolt of ice through my veins.

Finally, I reached her building, parking haphazardly and rushing inside. The elevator seemed to crawl, each floor an eternity. When the doors finally opened on her floor, I sprinted down the hallway, my hand instinctively reaching for the Glock tucked into the back of my waistband.

I reached her door, hesitating for only a moment before knocking sharply. "Veronica?" I called out, my voice tight with tension.

The door opened, and Veronica stood there, her face pale and drawn, her eyes wide with fear. She was clutching a gun in her hand, the barrel pointed downwards but her finger resting lightly on the trigger. "Saint," she breathed, relief flooding her features. "Thank God you're here."

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

I stepped inside, my eyes scanning the loft, searching for any sign of intrusion. The roses sat on the kitchen counter, a vibrant crimson against the cool, minimalist décor. They looked…out of place, almost menacing. "Did you touch them?" I asked, my gaze fixed on hers.

She shook her head, her eyes still filled with fear. "No. I called you right away."

I moved towards the roses cautiously, careful not to disturb anything. There was no card, no note, nothing but the flowers themselves. I picked up the bouquet, sniffing delicately. No scent other than the natural fragrance of the roses. Too clean. "Did you see anyone? Anything suspicious?"

"No," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "I didn't see anyone at all." Her grip tightened on the gun. "I…I don't understand how they got here." She gestured vaguely. "The building has security, a doorman…it shouldn't be possible."

I lowered the roses, my mind working quickly. Someone had bypassed security and gained access to her loft…it was a professional job. And the roses…they weren't just a threat. They were a message. A message that said he could reach her, that he was watching her, that she wasn't safe. I took a slow, deliberate look around the loft, assessing the locks on the windows, the security system – it could use an upgrade, especially now – the layout of the space. It was a beautiful place, but it wasn't secure enough. Not anymore.

"Veronica," I said, my voice low and serious, "I don't like this. I think it's best if you stay somewhere else for a while. I'm at the Regency. They have excellent security. I can have a suite arranged for you."

She looked at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and resignation. She knew I was right. Staying here wasn't safe. "Okay," she said finally, her voice barely a whisper. "You're right. This…this is too much." She paused, her gaze hardening slightly. "But I need to call Marcus first."

"Of course," I agreed. "Just let me look around a bit more first." I glanced around the loft again, my gaze lingering on the closed bedroom door. "Pack a bag, Veronica. Just the essentials. We'll figure out the rest later."

As I continued to survey the loft, a sleek calico cat, seemingly unfazed by the tension in the air, sauntered into the room and rubbed against my leg, purring softly. I instinctively reached down and scratched it behind the ears. "Daisy," Veronica said, a small smile touching her lips despite the fear in her eyes. "She always knows when something's wrong." She scooped Daisy up into her arms, holding her close. "She's coming with me," she added, her voice firm. "I'm not leaving her behind."

"Of course," I said, nodding. "We'll make sure she's comfortable at the Regency, too." I finished my quick assessment of the loft. "Alright," I said, turning back to Veronica. "Let's go. The sooner we get you settled, the better."

We left the loft, Veronica clutching Daisy in her arms, her small bag slung over her shoulder. The drive to the Regency was tense and silent. Veronica stared out the window, her gaze fixed on the passing city lights, but I could tell her mind was elsewhere. About halfway to the hotel, she pulled out her phone and made a call.

"Marcus," she said, her voice low and urgent. "It's me. Something's happened…" I could hear the concern in her voice as she recounted the events of the evening, the roses, the feeling of being watched. She spoke in hushed tones, careful not to reveal too much, but I could tell that Marcus was taking it seriously. I heard him ask a question, and Veronica replied, "No, I'm safe for now. I'm with Saint. We're at the Regency." She paused, listening. "Yes, I'll call you again tomorrow," she said finally. "Thank you, Marcus." She hung up the phone, her expression troubled.

"Everything alright?" I asked, glancing over at her.

She nodded slowly. "Yes," she said, her voice tight. "Marcus…he's going to look into it. He has connections, resources…he might be able to find out who's behind this."

We arrived at the Regency and checked in. The hotel was luxurious, with a grand lobby and a staff that was attentive and discreet. I booked a suite for Veronica, making sure it was next to mine so I could keep an eye on her. We settled into our rooms, and I made a call to Marcus, updating him on the situation.

After our conversation, I went back to Veronica's room. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "Everything okay?" I asked, taking a seat beside her.

She nodded, her voice barely audible. "Yes, I'm fine. Just a little shaken up, that's all."

I reached out and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Are you hungry?" I asked. "Would you like to get some dinner downstairs? They have a pretty good restaurant."

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Yes," she said. "I suppose I could eat something." She looked up at me then, her eyes searching mine, as if she expected me to have all the answers, as if I could magically erase the fear and uncertainty that clouded her beautiful features. The look tugged at something inside me, a fierce protectiveness, a desperate desire to shield her from whatever darkness was closing in. It made me feel…responsible. Responsible for her safety, for her peace of mind. And it made me realize that I would do whatever it took to keep her safe.

"Good," I said, standing up. "Let's go. And Veronica…" I paused, meeting her gaze. "Try not to worry. We'll figure this out."