I stared at him, voice low. “You beat him to death.”
He shrugged. “Let’s call it a demonstration. One less problem.”
For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us was thick with tension, heavy with all the words I couldn’t say. You killed him because he knew about Mother. About the empire. About you.
Finally, Marcus sighed, rising with deliberate calm, walking toward the globe bar in the corner. He poured himself a drink, the liquid catching the light. “Don’t look at me like that, son. You think I built all this with kindness? This world isn’t run by saints, it’s run by survivors.” He swirled the drink, turning to face me. “And survival sometimes means getting your hands dirty.”
I stood, stepping closer, voice low and dangerous. “There’s a difference between dirt and blood, Father.”
He smirked, sipping his whiskey. “Only for those who still believe they can stay clean.”
I turned, heading for the door before the rage in me cracked the mask.
“Son,” Marcus called, and I paused, hand on the doorknob. “Remember, family first. Always.” I didn’t answer.
Anton was waiting in the hall, leaning against the wall with his usual nonchalance, a glass of something dark in hand. But the moment our eyes met, his smirk faded. “You look like you’re about to murder someone,” he said quietly.
“Maybe I am,” I muttered, brushing past him.
He followed, falling into step beside me. “What happened in there?”
“Ray’s dead,” I said flatly. “Father’s doing.”
Anton froze mid-step, his voice low. “You sure?”
“He admitted it.”
I left the mansion and went inside the car. I activated the device, Anton’s voice crackling: “I’ve got intel on the Butcher.” Mystery hanging like smoke. What did Anton know?
Chapter 30
Aurelia
Keith had left hours ago, his kiss lingering on my lips like a promise he couldn't keep. The moment the helicopter lifted off, the island felt emptier, the paradise we'd built together hollow without him. Now, as night crept in, the sun dipping below the horizon in a blaze of orange and purple, the worry gnawed at me like a persistent ache, sharp and unrelenting.
I sat on the edge of the porch outside my room, my bare feet dangling, the warm wood still holding the day's heat. He'd been so broken, the weight of his mother's murder and a lost sister crushing him. I'd held him then, whispering that he wasn't his father, that his love for me proved he was better, but now, without him here, doubt crept in. What if Marcus hurt him? What if the empire's rot swallowed him whole? I pulled my knees to my chest but it didn't chase away the chill settling in my bones.
Footsteps on the path pulled me from my thoughts. Zora, emerging from her room across the way, her dark hair falling over her shoulder. She looked effortlessly fierce, her stride confident, her eyes sharp, but there was a softness there when she saw me, a big-sister vibe that had grown on me in the short time she'd been here. "Hey," she said, dropping onto the step beside me, her kneebumping mine. "You look like you're plotting world domination. Or worrying about my idiot brother."
I managed a small laugh, but it sounded hollow even to me. "A bit of both. He texted he's landed, but... nothing since. What if…"
Zora cut me off with a gentle nudge, her arm slinging around my shoulders. "He'll be fine. Keith's tougher than he looks, hell, tougher than any of us. He's navigated Father's bullshit for years without breaking. Whatever's going on in New York, he'll handle it. And if he doesn't, he'll call. He's not the type to ghost."
I leaned into her, grateful for the contact, her strength a steadying force. "I know. It's just... after everything that’s happened in the past, I can't stop thinking about it. What if his father's empire pulls him in? What if he becomes... like him?"
Zora snorted, a sound both cynical and affectionate. "Keith? Like Dad? Please. My brother's got a moral compass buried under all that billionaire swagger, but it's there. He built this island," she gestured to the darkening horizon, the waves lapping gently,"to escape that crap, not embrace it. And you? You're his anchor, Aurelia. The one thing keeping him from turning into Dad. Trust that."
Her words eased the knot slightly, the ocean's rhythm syncing with my breaths. "You're good at this."
She grinned, but it was edged with her trademark bite. "Years of practice wrangling Anton. Guy's a tornado with clubs, women, zero impulse control. Keith's the opposite. Too controlled, bottles everything up until it explodes. But with you? He smiles more. Laughs, even. It's weird, but good weird."
We sat like that, the conversation drifting to lighter things. The sun dipped lower, painting the sky in fiery hues, the lagoon a mirror of flame and indigo. We stood, stretching, Zora slinging her jacket over her arm. "Come on, let's walk the shore. Clear your head. Worrying won't bring him back faster."
I nodded, slipping on sandals. As we made our way down the path toward the beach, we passed through the main corridor of the villa, the faint hum of music and laughter drifting from the dining hall. Theo appeared from the opposite end, sleeves rolled up, a relaxed smile on his face.
“Hey, ladies!” he called out, his tone easy. “We’re heading in for dinner — want to join?”
“Thanks,” I said, matching his smile. “We’ll come by after a walk. You go ahead.”
