Footsteps echoed down the hall, the pattering of thick heels smacking against the floor. The whole inside of the buildings were painted pearly white, with black outlines to make it look like tile. The hem of a long red dress swept across the floor, following its owner. Thin hands slid against the wall as her eyes watched with satisfaction. A long slit came up her dress to her thigh, one leg showing. Her light red hair was pulled back into a low bun, her extravagant hazel eyes focused on one, and only one thing. That involved seeing him in his study.

She rounded a corner, her eyes full of determination, her hips moving swiftly from side to side as she walked. Her face was set, ready to slap him across the face, and back talk him. She wanted him to understand the pain that he has been causing her for the past few weeks. She was going for it. She was going to attack.

Eliza's reflection stopped her in the mirror that was at the end of the hall. Her face looked pale, with a little bit of blush splashed over her makeup. Fire was in her eyes, a trait people barely ever saw in her. She was typically a sweetheart, always looking out for others. But, today, she was taking things into her own hands, and blaming another.

She found his study door, but for a brief moment, she hesitated. But the memory of last night and this morning swarmed into her mind. That is what brought her to barge in.

His bright blue eyes glanced up from the paper in front of him, an eyebrow rising. "Eliza, is everything alright?"

She blew a little piece of hair out of her face, stricken with anger. "No, it's not alright."

He straightened his back, leaning back into his chair. "Care to explain then?"

Eliza's eyes seemed to weaken. "You left me last night. I thought you would be next to me when I woke up."

He ran a hand through his light brown hair, chuckling. "This is what you are upset about, darling?"

"Yes!" When Eliza stomped her foot, she saw the glare coming from his eyes. Her anger started to dissolve. "It's been happening a lot lately. I just want to see your face when I wake up."

"I have to work early in the morning, sweetheart. Even you know that," his voice was sympathetic, but clearly not enough. "Now, go do what you do best. Make yourself look pretty."

Eliza stood taller, prouder. "Aren't I pretty in the first place?"

His eyes traveled over her, a smirk appearing on his face. "On occasion."

He stood up, moving around his desk to grab a book from the case. Eliza's face was burning from her temper. How dare he call her beautiful on occasion? For the past two months, he slept in her bed every night. He should have more respect than that.

"You are cruel, Cyrus Campton," the name was much like a curse on her lips.

Cyrus' mouth curled. "But you love me anyway."

Eliza was slapped with shock, his astonishing answer made her speechless. She never once admitted that she loved him, only to herself. How could he have possibly known?

"You may be a whore in the first place, sweetheart, but I'm not an idiot. I can tell by how your eyes and face light up, and your overall attitude toward me."

"You should have never known," her voice was bland.

"But I figured it out, so get over it," Cyrus' voice was harsh as he slammed a book closed. "I may not precisely yet, but, it is still possible for me to fall in love. Am I worth that chance?"

No, you are not, the thought appeared in Eliza's mind, but she pushed it away. "Yes."

His eyes were gleaming now. "Then help me, Eliza. Help me build an empire. This world is full of no-talent morons. I know I can make this place better, much better."

Or darker, though, again, she ignored her thoughts.

"You will help me, won't you, darling?"

Eliza couldn't help it. The look in his eyes was the reflection of a child. He was giddy with excitement. Too bad she couldn't tell what that was for.

"Of course," she breathed.

"Thank you, darling. It means the world to me," he grinned, taking a seat again in his chair.

"What do you propose-"

Cyrus peered up at her, his face seeming annoyed by her presence. "Can we talk about this at dinner, darling?"

Eliza stood there, studying the man she fell in love with four months ago. He was tall, muscles filling his arms from the years of training he had. His hair was light brown and constantly slicked back in a fashionable manner. Everyone fell in love with his eyes, the color of the cloudless sky. His smile was charming and lovely, but at the same, menacing and dark. He never spoke of his age, but Eliza guessed he had to be at least twenty years old. This man, Cyrus Campton, was in control of one of the largest army the earth contained. They were all either made into his personal guards, soldiers, or secret spies. Cyrus knew exactly what he was doing, what directions he should go, and what his enemies were going to do. He had everything planned from the very beginning, able to predict everyone else's moves. He was a charmer and persuader, surely, but no one, not even his assistants or Eliza, knew who this man really was. He never spoke of his family or past, almost as if he appeared out of the air. Cyrus Campton was as much of a mystery to the world as he was to himself.

"Fine," Eliza spat, turned, and exited out of the room.

Cyrus grinned, both passionately and wickedly. "What an interesting way to live."

Eliza sat at the dinner table, the same red dress resting tightly against her body. Her eyes wandered over the dining room, her foot impatiently tapping. Cyrus should have arrived half an hour ago, and there was no sign of him. Not even his servants. A little voice in her head was telling her that he would never show, and he would never love her. Her pretty face fell as her eyes dropped to the floor, realizing that it was all entirely possible.

Suddenly, a door slammed against the wall as it flew open, heavy footsteps following it. Eliza lifted her head to find about four servants scurrying all around the room, shifting things in their right places and setting things up. Cyrus waltzed into the room after them, his eyes sweeping over the room. His body shook from a quick laugh. He glanced over at Eliza, smirking, as usual. Eliza noticed that he was equipped with proper attire, a suit and shiny black shoes. She didn't understand why he would for dinner, considering he would even come to dinner in muddy clothes. He never gave a damn. And that's why she was surprised about this evening.

Cyrus took a seat across from her, grinning like a cat. There was optimism in the air, a feeling that followed Cyrus in the room. Eliza couldn't help but feel herself shiver.

"Cold?" Cyrus' voice was plain and unemotional.

"I suppose so," Eliza lied, pretending to look confused.

She knew that Cyrus knew she was putting on an act, but he let it slide. As servants brought them food, Eliza studied Cyrus carefully. There was something off inside of him, she could tell. Wires were charging and wheels were turning in his head, it was easy to see. He would stare at the table and not make a sound. Did she a hint of nervousness flash across his face?

"What's on your mind, Cyrus?" She leaned forward, clearly interested.

"Thinking about my plans," he replied, only meeting her eyes for a quick moment. He seemed distracted, completely.

"And they are?"

Now he looked in her in the face. He grinned. "I can't tell you that, darling."

Eliza made a sad face, hoping to convince him. "But you always tell me about your plans!"

"Not this one, sweetheart. This one needs special care. And secrecy."

Eliza glowered. "Can you at least tell me why you are dressed for a special occasion?"

He brushed some bread crumbs off his shirt. "I'm going out tonight. Meeting with someone that is willing to help me."

Eliza's eyebrow cocked. "And this someone is?"

"You'll meet him soon enough."

Eliza couldn't help but feel disappointed about him keeping a secret. Maybe she could make him spill everything tonight.

He must have read her mind. "I'll possibly be out all night. So, don't expect me tonight."

Her eyes flickered up to him. "Really?"

"No matter how much I'll miss it," he lips curled. "I have business to attend to."

Just then, a knock echoed across the room, grabbing their attention. Cyrus ordered for the servants to allow the person in. Eliza's mouth fell open as her eyes traced over the two figures walking toward them. Cyrus' smile only grew wider.

One of Cyrus' closest assistants, a man by the name of Harrison, had a hard grip on a girl's shoulders. Harrison steered the young girl into the room, her face full of terror. Eliza noticed that the girl's hands were shaking. She had dark blonde hair with pretty light green eyes. She was overall a pretty girl, but the fear she was expressing made her look younger. Eliza restrained herself from getting up and wrapping her arms around the girl. Eliza knew the place she was in.

"Ah! You got the girl! Wonderful Harrison," Cyrus chimed, standing out of his seat and heading over to them. Eliza could only sit and watch.

"It took us a while, sir. But at least we got sighting of her alone, so we snatched her up," Harrison stood proudly.

"I can see that you did. And not a scratch on her, very good," he nodded to Harrison in thanks.

Cyrus squatted down so he was able to look up at her. She responded with a quick glare, before cringing it back. "What's your name, girl?"

"Tiffany," she squeaked.

"Well, nice to meet you Tiffany. Know who I am?"

Tiffany nodded. "Cyrus Campton. HE informed me," she jerked her chin in the direction of Harrison.

Cyrus chuckled, silently. "I'm sure. But, I mean, do you know who I am?"

Tiffany's expression was blank. Eliza couldn't tell whether it was from the horrorstruck she was suffering, or she just flat out didn't know.

Cyrus stood up, slowly, as he spoke. "I'm the one who had your mother killed."

A gasp escaped from Tiffany's lips as he glided away from her. She didn't go after him, surprisingly, but her tongue was just as bad. "How? She was murdered. We saw the murderer, and it certainly wasn't you."

Cyrus shook his head. "Silly girl. You seem much smarter than most fifteen year olds. Girl, I'm the one who made the plans for her to be killed. Get it now?"

Eliza could see Tiffany clenching her teeth to hide the anger that was rising. Eliza's eyes trailed after Cyrus, stunned. He ordered someone to be killed?

Cyrus turned to Eliza, his eyes deeply darker. "Darling, will you watch after her? We have another on the hunt."

"What are you planning on doing with these girls?" Eliza stood up, her eyes narrowing.

"They are all part of the plan, darling. Don't worry. You'll be told about this soon enough," Cyrus winked. "Now, I'm off to meet my comrade."

Cyrus stalked out of the room, leaving everyone else in the room speechless and astonished.

The streets were dark, filled with some lamps out along the sidewalks. It was a large city in Pennsylvania, a town that wouldn't notice a large business growing. With a hooded cap and dark clothes on, Cyrus blended in perfectly with the shadows. People saw the image of a man walking through the streets, but no one knew who it exactly was.

As he moved with his hands in his pockets, a jingling sound followed him. Cyrus peeked over his shoulder, noticing that there was no one close enough to him to make that loud of a sound. His eyes flashed to his sides and caught movement from the other side of the alleys. Cyrus smirked, continuing on and not catching any attention.

Another figure joined his side, throwing himself out of the darkness. It was casual. Most people wouldn't see his quick appearance, so they wouldn't take too much notice. The other man was slightly taller than Cyrus, but he was just as covered up as Cyrus.

"Good to see you, Gregory," Cyrus spoke, slyly.

"You too, Cyrus," the other man revoked. "So, who is this man that we are seeing?"

"He goes by the name of Hasani Radke. I'm sure that's his real name, but you know how men have been these days," Cyrus laughed.

"I can understand," humor was in Gregory's voice as well. "How did he come across us?"

"I came across him. I noticed that he was trying to raise an army, but most of his men turned to me. The ones that he does have are strong and powerful. I agreed to team up with him, naturally."

"Lets hope you have chose correctly, Campton," Gregory cackled, evilly of course.

"Gregory, you know me. If he doesn't go the way I want, I have a backup plan that will ruin him."

"Of course you do. Of course," Gregory repeated as they both found the house that belonged to their client.

It was a large mansion, not the size of Cyrus' or even Gregory's, but it was clearly visible. Guards surrounded the yard and house, but they allowed the two men to go inside. Hasani Radke must have given these men specific orders.

Hasani greeted them in the study, which was the room that servants led them to. Before the servants left, they took the men's cloaks. Facing the infamous Hasani Radke, Cyrus realized that their client was neither Arabian nor African. He was tanner than most people in America, but he wasn't dark enough to be of that nationality. It might have been back in the far past, but he just wasn't sure. Cyrus did recognize that Hasani had very tan skin, dark black hair, and sapphire blue eyes. Hasani was intimidating in the first place; his large build and tall structure. But, Cyrus knew he could outsmart this man in a heartbeat.

"Cyrus Campton," Hasani's eyes lit up at the sight of him. His eyes seemed puzzled when they landed on Gregory.

"This is my ally, Gregory Marcus," Cyrus introduced. He felt the tension rise between Gregory and Hasani. "We have a plan."

"And what is that?" Hasani leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

"You know that we want control of this world, correct?" Cyrus sat in a chair across from Hasani. When he nodded, Cyrus continued. "Well, there is a group called The Company that is becoming more and more powerful. I want them to either join me or be destroyed."

"And how do you propose we do that?"

"I have some ideas. It includes two spies and one hostage. I'm sure we can do this, whichever way it goes." Cyrus smiled.

Hasani glimmered. "Tell me more about this plan of yours."