Chapter Text
The building had once been a bank.
You could still see it in the bones of the place — the wide marble floors worn smooth with age, the tall windows that let in pale afternoon light, the heavy iron vault door that now stayed permanently shut at the end of the lower hallway. Victor had bought the entire structure months ago. Most of the surrounding businesses had long since left the block, leaving the street quiet except for the occasional passing car or the low hum of trucks arriving at odd hours.
You tried not to think too hard about what they brought.
Your desk sat in the front lobby where the old teller counters had once been. Victor had replaced them with a polished wooden reception desk and a narrow hallway that led deeper into the building. Behind you hung a tall filing cabinet full of paperwork — shipments, expense reports, supply lists, and the steady trickle of invoices that seemed to multiply by the week.
Your job was simple.
Answer the phone.
Sort the mail.
Schedule Victor’s meetings.
Keep track of deliveries.
And, most importantly, never go downstairs.
Victor had told you that the first day.
He had smiled when he said it too, like it was nothing more than a casual workplace rule.
“Laboratory safety regulations,” he’d explained while setting the folder of employment forms in front of you. His voice eerily soft, eerily quiet. “Chemicals, experimental equipment. Nothing you’d find interesting anyway.”
You had nodded immediately.
You were good at nodding. Good at accepting things the way they were given to you.
It wasn’t like you had many options.
You hadn’t grown up with much.
Your parents had died when you were still young — a car accident on a wet highway you barely remembered. After that it had been a rotation of relatives, spare bedrooms, and eventually a small apartment you could barely afford once you were old enough to be on your own.
You learned quickly that being quiet, polite, and helpful made life easier.
People liked you that way.
So when the job listing appeared — administrative assistant needed, competitive pay, quiet office environment — you applied the same day.
Victor hired you almost immediately.
He was strange, maybe. A little absentminded. Always scribbling notes or muttering about breakthroughs and variables under his breath.
But he wasn’t cruel.
He paid you on time.
He let you take tea breaks whenever you liked.
Sometimes you even caught him staring— fingers twitching at his sides with an expression that remained content. That had to mean something, right?
Compared to some of the jobs you’d had before, it felt almost… comfortable.
Even if the building itself felt a little too quiet sometimes.
You were sorting paperwork when the door opened that afternoon.
The sound echoed through the empty lobby.
Not the light push of a normal visitor.
Something heavier.
Deliberate.
You looked up.
The man standing in the doorway did not look like anyone who should be walking into an office building.
Tall and broad shoulders. He had a dark coat hanging stiffly from his frame like it had been thrown on rather than worn properly. His face was sharp, stern in a way that made the air around him feel tense before he’d even said a word. He had an earring— only one that caught the over head lights and shined silver with a pristine, pretty decision. And his eyes. Although covered by dark frames, you imagined they scanned the room in one slow, measuring sweep with the way his neck craned.
You straightened instinctively in your chair.
“H-Hello,” you said softly.
Your voice always came out a little quieter than you expected.
“Can I help you… sir?”
For a moment he didn’t answer.
He was staring at you.
Not rudely. Not in the usual way men sometimes did.
Just… staring.
Like you were something entirely unexpected.
Something that didn’t belong.
Zeno had come to the building ready to tear Victor apart.
Months of funding.
Months of promises.
And nothing to show for it.
No breakthrough.
No power.
No progress worth the money he’d been pouring into the man’s research.
He’d spent the entire drive over rehearsing the conversation in his head — the threats, the ultimatum, the way Victor’s smug confidence would finally crack when he realized the patience funding his work had run out.
Zeno had expected armed guards.
Scientists.
Assistants.
Maybe security.
What he had not expected… was you.
A small girl sitting behind a reception desk with a stack of paperwork and a pen tucked behind your ear.
Your eyes were wide.
Curious.
A little nervous as they looked up at him.
You didn’t look like someone who belonged anywhere near the kind of work Victor was conducting in the basement of this building.
Zeno’s jaw tightened.
“…Where is Victor?” he asked bluntly. Already he could feel his fingers tightening, veins popping against his skin in untamed anger.
His voice came out rougher than he intended. Low. Gravelly from disuse and irritation.
You blinked once at the sound of it but quickly reached for the small notebook beside your desk.
“Oh! Um, Dr. Victor is downstairs in the lab,” you explained gently. “He’s been working all morning.”
You flipped through the pages like you’d done it a hundred times. The scent of old books and lead wafted heavily in the air.
“If you’d like, I can call down and let him know you’re here.”
Zeno was still staring.
Up close it was even more obvious.
You didn’t belong here.
Not in a building full of illegal experiments and men chasing power that could change the world.
Your cardigan sleeves were pushed halfway up your arms from writing.
A little smudge of ink stained the side of your finger.
You looked… so fucking normal.
So soft.
Zeno felt something unfamiliar twist faintly in his chest.
“…What do you do here?” he asked. Quite bluntly— you thought.
The question seemed to surprise you. I mean, it wasn’t every day a man looking so.. collected, question your intentions at a workplace. Your workplace.
“Oh,” you said quietly, glancing down at your desk. “I’m just the secretary.”
Just.
The word sat strangely in the air.
Zeno’s gaze flicked toward the hallway leading deeper into the building.
Then back to you.
Victor had a habit of hiding things in plain sight.
But this?
Putting someone like you at the front desk of a place like this?
It was reckless.
Or cruel.
He wasn’t sure which yet.
“…You work here every day?” he asked. It was then the man almost felt awkward. Zeno wasn’t new to talking up pretty women— fuck, he was almost a pro at it. But this, this was just confusing. A pretty girl like you deserved better.
You nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
Zeno almost groaned with the way such pleasantries spilled from your soft lips. One hand came up to the desk, grabbing it with a profound force that a crack almost echoed out.
Almost.
Your voice was soft. And so fucking polite.
You were trusting in a way that made something sharp flicker behind Zeno’s eyes.
He exhaled slowly through his nose.
For the first time since arriving, the anger that had been coiled tightly in his chest loosened slightly.
Not gone.
Just… redirected.
“…Call him,” Zeno managed to growl out. Already pulling his hand away from the desk— away from your proximity like it has burned him.
You smiled a little at his answer.
A small, warm thing that seemed completely out of place in the cold marble lobby.
“Of course.”
You picked up the phone.
And while you dialed, Zeno found himself watching you in a way he hadn’t expected to.
Studying the way your voice softened even further when you spoke into the receiver.
The way your fingers tapped lightly against the desk as you waited.
Still trying to understand one very simple thing.
What the hell was someone like you doing in a place like this?
And why, for the first time since stepping through the doors, did the thought of Victor dragging you into whatever horrors he was creating downstairs make Zeno’s patience feel very… thin.