Page 7 of Forbidden Empire (Sinful Gods #1)
“In the meantime, Aidon, we have other priorities.” He leaned forward, eyes narrowing.
“We need to evaluate the threat from Rhea and the Shadow Syndicate.
Whatever Zeno had in that box contained a lot of intel on them.
We're not the only ones after Esme now. Maybe we should handle Rhea and Zeno first?”
His words hung heavy in the air, the gravity of the situation settling in.
Zenobius “Zeno” Theodorus, a former friend turned rival, was yet another thorn in my side. I’d handle him after I took care of my business with his baby sister.
“Fuck that,” I growled, with a dismissive wave. “I’m much more focused on finding Esme.”
“That’s obvious. Look, I know she betrayed you, I know you want revenge, but?—”
We turned at the sharp click of approaching footsteps echoing down the hallway, and I couldn't suppress a groan as Helena Karras appeared at my door. Her silhouette was unmistakable, with her sharp suit and piercing gaze.
Helena Karras, my operations manager, burst in like a thunderstorm.
The only person besides Ares who wasn’t afraid of me and who told me what I needed to hear, especially to clear my mind.
She handled logistics, felt the pressure, and heard the voice that reminded me that “protection isn’t absolution,” even when I was reluctant to listen.
Helena was straightforward, sharp-witted, and her honesty was often brutal. She maneuvered through the world of casino bosses and syndicate leaders with a skill that was almost like art.
Her ability to earn their trust, while uncovering their deepest secrets, was nothing short of impressive. She moved through their ranks like a shadow, with every interaction carefully planned, her presence a mix of charm and intimidation.
"Fuck," Ares muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing as he spotted Helena striding toward us with an all-too-familiar air of superiority.
We both understood that Helena's visits were infrequent, like a solar eclipse, and usually signaled trouble.
"Helena, hello," I greeted her.
Her presence was like a storm cloud rolling in, and I braced myself for whatever news she carried.
"Aidon, how’s your day?" she inquired, her heels clicking against the marble floor.
Her overwhelming confidence radiated off her like a noxious perfume, and the smug grin stretched across her lips was enough to churn anyone's stomach. No one held Helena in higher regard than Helena herself.
"It was great, until now," I replied, attempting to mask my irritation.
"Cute." She chuckled, her laughter echoing like a taunt. "Great to see you, too, my friend."
"What are you doing here?" Ares demanded, stepping beside me with his shoulders squared, his disdain for her as plain as the scowl etched on his face.
The air between them crackled with tension as they locked eyes, a silent duel of wills unfolding in the charged atmosphere.
"Ares, are you still here?" she said with a mocking tilt of her head. "I was sure you’d have been knocked off long ago, considering what a terrible shot you are."
I stifled a groan, sensing the coil of anger winding tighter in Ares. He stood rigid beside me, every muscle taut like a cobra poised to strike.
"You want to volunteer for target practice?" Ares suggested, with a low, menacing growl that carried a clear warning. "I’ll show you what a good shot I am."
Helena's laughter cut through the tension, her manicured fingers splayed in mock surrender.
"Down, boys!" The gold bracelets on her wrist jangled as she tossed her hair back. "Don't shoot the messenger!"
I leaned forward, knuckles white against the edge of my desk. "Messenger?"
Her red lips curled into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. She glanced at her watch, a Cartier that cost more than most people made in a year.
"I would've gotten to that if your attack dog hadn't bared his teeth the moment I walked in."
Ares stepped closer, the floorboards creaking under his weight. "Spill it."
Helena's shoulders stiffened. She crossed her arms, the fabric of her designer blazer pulling tight across her chest. "Rhea sends her regards."
"Playing errand girl for the Shadow Syndicate now?" My eyebrow arched. "Does big brother approve?"
"Please." She gave a one-shoulder shrug, her perfume, something expensive and floral, wafting through the air between us. "Zeno's chess pieces are right where he wants them."
“And?” I asked.
Helena's manicured fingers extracted a cream-colored note from her blazer pocket. She flicked it across my desk like a playing card. The paper skidded to a stop against my whiskey glass.
I unfolded it with one hand, the expensive stationery crisp between my fingers. Rhea's handwriting, elegant cursive in blood-red ink:
Aidon,
Still searching for your runaway queen? Be careful what you wish for.
Best,
Rhea
My jaw clenched so tight I tasted metal. "This is your urgent message?"
"My job was delivery, not content." Helena's lips curved into that practiced smile.
Ares moved between us, shoulders blocking my view. "Door's that way."
"Always a pleasure, gentlemen." Her heels click-clacked a staccato rhythm down the marble stairs.
The note crackled as my fist closed around it. I hurled it toward the bin, missing. The paper bounced off the rim and settled on the floor like snow.
Ares's eyes tracked the movement. "She's trying to rattle you."
“Let her try.” I slammed my palm on the desk. The whiskey bottle jerked. “Rhea thinks she’s untouchable in her little shadow kingdom. She runs the courier and feeder routes, cut those, and her money bleeds out.”
"So, what's our play?"
The image of Esme's face floated before me—her knowing smile, those eyes that saw right through me.
"Find. Her." Each word punctuated the air between us. "I want every camera in this city watching for her. Every informant on alert. Every hotel room searched, if necessary."
"Aidon, Rhea's people are?—"
"Did I fucking stutter?" The vein in my temple throbbed. "Esme first. Everything else burns until I have her back."