Page 44

Zyon

" W e need to speed up the plan," I announced impatiently, looking over the table at my brothers. Dorian casually chewed his chocolate croissant while Malin played with his oatmeal. None of them looked surprised by my words.

"How much speed are we talking about?" Malin asked, wrinkling his nose after sniffing the spoonful of food. The new cook had no clue that he hated vanilla, which had been floating over the table the entire morning.

"I want to meet with the Americans this afternoon," I replied, lifting a brow when Malin stood up and took the bowl in his hand. "What are you…"

I didn't get to finish. He headed to the kitchen, and five seconds later, I heard banging, coughing, and the cutlery hitting the marble floor.

"Seriously?" I shook my head in annoyance while Dorian chuckled into his mug.

"You know he gets violent when someone messes with his oatmeal," he pointed out, bursting into laughter when Malin returned with a deadly expression.

"Do I still have a cook?" I asked, leaning into my seat. The toast on my plate wasn't the most delicious I had ever eaten, either, but I needed someone to cook until Sandro returned from Venezuela.

"I don't think so." Malin shrugged, plopping on the chair beside me. "I broke his fingers. "

"Jesus Christ," I sighed, rubbing my tired eyes. I’d barely slept three hours after I drove Valeria home. My stomach churned with disgust at the idea of her spending time with her husband.

The only camera I had at my disposal was the one in the teddy bear, which showed nothing. Her car was parked where I left it, and nothing suggested that something was off with her, but I was restless. She was at home, probably sleeping after an exhausting night, yet I couldn't find peace.

She belonged with me. She should be upstairs, sleeping in my bed while I dealt with the regular morning bullshit. She should be around to brighten my day after tedious meetings. She should be here, not with her idiotic husband, who didn't value and appreciate the treasure he had at home.

The inability to have her by my side kept getting on my nerves and prevented me from thinking clearly. I was hours, maybe minutes, away from throwing everything out the window, taking the gun, and shooting Chester Kellerman without blinking.

But it wouldn't solve my problems. It would clear my way to Valeria, yet it would also put a target on her back. I had to think about her and Zara's safety. I had to make it right so everyone understood that they were untouchable.

Still, it didn't mean I should be patient. The plan wasn't perfect, and we could end up in jail, but it was the path we'd chosen long ago. It had to be done if we wanted to ensure our family's prosperity and safety.

"So." Dorian interrupted the silence, wiping his mouth. "What time are we meeting the Americans?"

Malin checked his silver watch, casting me an expectant glance. I briefly closed my eyes, calculating how much time we needed to prepare everything.

"Schedule it at four pm," I decided, peeking at my phone for the tenth time in less than two minutes. "It shouldn't take more than forty minutes."

"Are you expecting an important call?" Dorian asked, smiling mischievously when I frowned at the screen again. Of course, he knew my frustration was deeply connected to Valeria.

"No," I snapped, flashing him an annoyed glare .

Sighing, I forced my brain to cooperate so everything went as smoothly as possible. If we messed this up, it could have irreparable consequences for our future.

"Who is our alibi?" I asked, pouring myself another cup of coffee. It was my third one, and I could already hear my heart thudding in my ears. Maybe whiskey would help.

"The usual combination of our trusted people and security cameras," Dorian replied, watching me as I walked to the dark cabinet and picked a bottle of expensive scotch.

Returning to the table, I splashed the water on the plant to empty my glass and poured it to the brim with a honey-colored liquid.

Shoving it down my throat, I released a satisfied groan that eased the tension in my chest.

"This is serious." Malin chuckled, moving his empty mug in my direction. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I filled his cup, offering some to Dorian as well before I sat back in my chair and exhaled loudly.

"Talking about your feelings is for women and pussies, son," I imitated our father, and my brothers erupted in laughter. "Never admit you care for someone. It's the biggest weakness."

"He was right," Dorian said, a grin still plastered on his face. "You're chasing your woman through the night with a mask on your face just to keep her safe."

"Can we stop pretending he doesn't enjoy it?" Malin countered, raising his mug to his lips. "Chasing a woman is insanely fun."

"Preferably with a knife and rope, too, right?" Dorian teased, nudging him with his elbow playfully.

"Everyone has preferences." Malin shrugged nonchalantly, and I rolled my eyes at their antics. We were all crazy in our own unique way.

"Can we focus on work, please?" I interrupted their banter, finishing my drink. "I need to meet Gravaldis before lunch. Make it happen."

"Of course, boss," Dorian quickly confirmed, standing up and following me to the elevator. "One more thing, brother. "

I turned to him, surprised not to see his typical broad smile. His face was too serious for my liking.

"What's going on?" I lifted a brow, hiding my phone in my pants pocket.

"I checked the hierarchy in the Italian group as you instructed me, and you were right," he replied. "I don't have proof yet, but everything points at them working together against us."

"That's a breakthrough," I said, chewing my bottom lip. This information slightly changed the course of action but made the situation more manageable. "It gives me ammunition before the meeting with Gravaldis."

"What ammunition?" Dorian asked, perplexed, but I only smiled and entered the elevator.

"Schedule the meeting, brother," I ordered, smirking. "Today is retaliation day."

Valeria

I lay in bed with my eyes wide open, unable to think, sleep, or even move. My alarm clock went wild at seven am, but I didn't have the strength to turn it off.

The apartment was empty. Chester hadn’t returned home, and Zara spent the night at her grandmother's house. No one objected to the crazy device that could surely wake up a dead person with its loud ringing, so I let it be and continued to stare at the ceiling.

The horrible event of the previous day was on repeat in my head, entangled with a wonderful memory with Zefarin. His actions made my body shiver with delight, yet it was his words that melted my heart and resilience to end things between us.

It was sick and twisted to keep hope for our relationship, but I couldn't help it. He was the darkness that lit my path, the demon that led me to heaven. How could I stop this madness when all I wished for was to be consumed by it ?

Slamming my hand against the alarm clock, I got up and looked around the bedroom.

Everything was where I left it; my clothes were thrown over the armchair, the cosmetic table was covered with my makeup and jewelry, and my books were spread on every available surface.

But this place stopped feeling like home a long time ago.

It was a cage, and I was trapped like a princess in my stories, guarded by a monstrous beast.

Could Zefarin be my prince? Could he save me before I lost myself in this hell hole?

I never truly realized how much I hated this place until I left it.

It was the most freeing feeling to live by my rules without a husband who controlled my every move.

Chester was always like this. It wasn't like he changed into a monster overnight, but I refused to see it.

Yet when I opened my eyes and noticed all the red flags and abusive behavior, I didn't want to spend another day with him.

But was the murderer and stalker a better choice?

Hiding my face behind my palms, I exhaled deeply. My body was depleted of energy from the constant fight between my heart that fell for the criminal and my common sense, which held all the aces.

I knew Zefarin wasn't a saint. I understood it could be my end if I continued this relationship with him. I just couldn't imagine not seeing him again, not feeling his glorious arms around me, or experiencing his heated kisses.

He was my drug, and I was utterly addicted. Nothing reasonable could change it. I was in love with him.

Taking my phone from the nightstand, I texted Alice.

I desperately needed to talk to someone I trusted, and she was like a sister to me.

Her absence for the past couple of weeks made me feel alone, which may be why I became so attached to Zefarin.

Perhaps he wouldn't have gotten under my skin so easily if I had spent more time with her.

Alice instantly replied that she could meet me around four pm, and I sighed heavily.

I couldn't imagine what to do with all my free time and erratic thoughts.

I had to do something to keep my mind occupied, and my eyes landed on the cream-colored dress I'd prepared for work before Zefarin halted my plans.

Without thinking twice, I took a shower, put on makeup, and dressed. I combed my hair and let it fall freely on my back .

Satisfied with how I looked, I grabbed my purse and car keys, left the empty, cold place I once called home, and headed to work.

No one would expect me there so early in the morning, but I didn't mind the surprised glances.

I couldn't stay in the apartment where I felt imprisoned.

I had to be in contact with the free world.

Maybe it would give me the courage to leave Chester again.

The idea stayed with me while I drove the expensive car through the busy streets of New York.

It didn't disappear when I parked it before the closed restaurant or when I walked inside the casino through the back entrance.

It was with me when I opened the door into the tiny room behind the cash desk that served as my office, and it lingered in the air until I acknowledged that it was what I craved the most—my freedom.

I wanted to be free, and it could never happen with Chester holding me prisoner in a loveless marriage.

But I knew the path to freedom could be bumpy.

Chester was a powerful enemy, ready to use all the dirt just to paint me as a mentally unstable woman.

I wanted to leave him, yet I understood it couldn't happen right away.

His threats were on constant repeat in my head.

They were the biggest reason I stayed with him.

Still, I believed the way to escape his claws existed. I just had to find it.