Chapter 312: Fear
That’s when I felt eyes on me. Niko. He lingered near the edge of the gym, posture too stiff, hands too careful around a folder. He didn’t interrupt right away, like even he knew the wrong word might make me snap.
I slid down the rope, boots hitting the mat with a thud. "Spit it out."
He approached cautiously. "It’s about the case you asked me to dig into. Aria’s father. Cruz."
"Eladio Cruz." My voice was flat. "Head of the Veracruz Cartel. Old school...ran coke through the Gulf, laundered through shipping fronts, kept federales in his pocket. I know the file. Spit it out."
Niko nodded once. "Right. But here’s the piece we didn’t have. Aria’s father didn’t just skim cash. He siphoned a whole offshore reserve...forty million, minimum. Moved it through layered accounts, some in Europe, some right here in Spain. Something smart. Cruz couldn’t let that insult stand, but every time he sent men, her father slipped the net. He ran clean. Untouchable. For years."
I cracked my knuckles, pacing in a slow circle. "Until the night he didn’t."
"Yes sir."
"So what’s the new information?"
Niko’s tone dropped. "Cruz got his exact location. Not a rumor. Not a lead. Coordinates. Someone handed him the address on a silver platter."
My spine straightened. "Who?"
"I chased that trail." Niko opened the folder, tapping a page full of coded transcriptions. "Cruz used burner comms with whoever fed him the intel. Messages were scrubbed, dead channels, but one thing kept repeating...every drop, every signed note carried the same tag."
He looked up, hesitation flickering. "Codename was... ’Azrael.’"
My fist froze halfway to the bag. The name roared in my skull, too sharp, too familiar.
Niko frowned. "That mean something to you?"
I lowered my hand slowly, breath coming heavy through my teeth. Azrael. Angel of death. A name I’d heard once, long ago, muttered in private circles that tied back to the one bastard I’d spent years trying to erase from memory.
My bastard half-brother.
Andrew.
So he’d been playing mouse in the shadows.
The rope creaked in my grip, my pulse pounding like gunfire.
The name still echoed in my head...Azrael. Andrew. My fucking blind spot.
I went back to the bag with renewed violence, fists hammering until leather split and dust burst out of the seams. "All this time I let him stay quiet. Thought silence meant defeat. Should’ve known better." Another strike, hard enough to rock the bag off its chain. "That bastard’s been moving while I wasn’t looking."
Niko lingered nearby, wary as always when I was in this state. I didn’t give him time to think. "Start pulling every wire. Bank accounts, associates, aliases. If Andrew’s using Azrael, then I want everything he’s touched under that name. Flights, shipments, safehouses. Watch his every move. I want him hunted."
"Yes, sir." Niko’s voice was taut, already thinking ahead.
"And keep eyes on our father," I added, jabbing the bag in a steady rhythm now. "If Andrew’s making moves, Ewan won’t stay silent for long. He’s been too quiet lately."
"That’s true," Niko agreed, cautious. "But it might be because the council is pressuring him. Word is, the time’s coming to name a new Patriarch."
The word tasted bitter. Patriarch...the crown without the throne. The Roman empire’s head. My father’s legacy. His curse.
Before I could respond, Niko’s phone rang sharp, cutting through the gym’s noise. He glanced at it, and I caught the shift immediately. A flicker in his jaw. A beat of hesitation.
"Take it," I barked, throwing another hook.
He stepped away, muttering low into the receiver. My eyes narrowed. Niko was many things, but a bad liar wasn’t one of them. Still, his shoulders gave him away...the stiff set, the tension in his spine. He didn’t want me hearing this.
By the time he came back, his face was grim. He looked like he was holding something heavy on his tongue.
I paused mid-swing. "Out with it."
He hesitated. Always a mistake.
"Spit it out, Niko." My tone was a growl now.
He exhaled slowly, as if bracing himself for impact. "It’s... Aria."
My fist froze against the bag. I turned, closing the distance between us in two strides. "What about her?"
Niko swallowed, straightening under my stare. "She’s in the hospital." His words dropped like lead. "And from what I heard... she’s in critical condition."
The bag swung back toward me, untouched. But all I could hear was the roar in my chest.
My fists hovered midair, breath heaving through clenched teeth. "What?"
Niko held his ground, though I saw the flicker of unease in his eyes. "Aria’s in the hospital."
I took a step closer, voice low, dangerous. "Say it again."
"She’s in critical condition," he repeated, firmer this time but with that edge of hesitation that told me it was bad. Worse than bad.
The room seemed to tilt. That gnawing unease I’d been feeling since I landed...the one I buried under blood and sweat...hit me all at once, like it had been waiting for this moment. I had ignored it. Ignored her.
And now this.
My body moved before my mind could catch up. I stormed out of the building, shoving past anyone in my path. "Get the car ready," I snapped.
"Sir..."
"NOW, Niko!"
The gym blurred around me. Shouts, footsteps, the faint smell of chalk and sweat...all background noise. All I could hear was the blood roaring in my ears and her name, over and over, colliding with every breath I dragged in. Aria. Aria.
By the time I burst out the doors, I was already dialing, already demanding my ride back home prepped, security cleared. Instinct had taken over. The Roman empire, Andrew, even my father...they could all burn.
Because none of it mattered if she wasn’t breathing fine.
The city lights smeared against the tinted windows, blurred like I was already drunk. My hands wouldn’t stay still... clenched into fists, dragging through my hair, pressing against my knees as if I could stop the shaking that wouldn’t quit.
"Find out everything," I barked, voice rawer than I intended. "Names. Times. What the hell happened. I want every detail."
Niko’s eyes flicked to me from the passenger seat, steady but too calm, too measured. That calm only existed when things were bad. "There aren’t many details yet. She was rushed to the hospital... Ash was with her when it happened. They’re saying... it started the day you left for Spain."
My chest caved in like something had reached inside and squeezed. The day I left. The day I told her she was nothing but convenient.
I really did that.
Her face flashed through me like a blade... those wide eyes, the way her lips trembled when she tried to speak, and the silence that fell after I cut her down. She’d looked different. Off. But I hadn’t cared enough to press, too wrapped up in my own exhaustion, too bitter with that image burned into me... her mouth on Sylas’s.
And so I left her like that.
Like she didn’t matter.
My stomach twisted so violently I had to brace against it. I wanted to rip my own skin open, claw out the memory of how she looked at me that day.
And now... this. Again. I pulled away, thinking I was protecting her... or protecting myself... something worse happened.
"What the fuck did I do," I muttered, not sure if I meant it for Niko or myself. My throat burned, the words choking on the way out.
Niko didn’t answer. Smart of him. There was nothing he could say that I wouldn’t tear apart.
I dropped my head into my hands, knuckles pressing against my eyes, vision pulsing red. I couldn’t lose her. Not like this.