Page 31

Chapter 31

Piers

W esley Hall looms before me, its dark sloping rooftops framed against the night sky, its sprawling grounds quiet. I step from the car, gravel crunching beneath my boots, and take in the sight of the four-hundred-year-old estate I once thought would mean something more to me than just another obligation.

In the two years since I returned, I’ve remodeled nearly every inch of it- new floors, restored fireplaces. The gardens, once overgrown, are now pristine, the hedges carved into perfect symmetry. The chandelier that fell during my absence has been rehung, though I could have replaced it. Maybe I should have.

But for all the changes, the house still feels incomplete. Hollow. The walls, no longer crumbling, press in on me just the same, suffocating me with what they lack. No amount of restoration can fill the empty void I feel. This place had been the symbol of everything I wanted to build- everything I believed in. Now, it’s nothing but an echo of what could have been.

I shove my hands into my coat pockets and draw in a sharp breath of evening air- damp, chilled to the bone, thick with the promise of rain. Old habits make my head tilt up toward the balcony above the main hall, half-expecting to find Fantasia there even now: arms crossed, that hawk-sight focus sweeping her domain, missing nothing.

But she’s gone. And I’ve made peace with it.

The house is far from empty, though. The manor now serves as a home for those who, like me once, had nowhere else to go. Rooms that once belonged to the Warwicks now house sharp-eyed kids from the streets, orphans with quick hands and quicker tongues. Some of them are hardened by life, young survivors who know how to navigate rough waters. Others, like Theo, have carved out roles for themselves, finding purpose in the chaos.

I didn’t think much of Arthur’s ‘hire orphans’ threat at the time, but now? I might just make him my chief recruiter.

But even with all of it- Wesley Hall reborn, a second chance for kids like us- there’s still a missing piece.

Achilles is waiting for me in the study, his leather gloves tucked into the pockets of his dark coat. He looks as he always has- imposing, every inch the mafia boss he was always destined to become. We’ve met like this many times over the past two years, keeping our relationship professional, distant.

“Piers,” he greets me, his tone stiff. “I’ve been waiting.”

We should despise each other after everything that's happened- after how close he came to killing me, after how hard I fought to keep Fantasia from unraveling. But hatred never took root.

Instead, there’s this- duty, necessity. We've carved out a careful alliance, two men who’ve learned to coexist without tearing each other apart. Two mafia bosses walking the same streets, each respecting the other's turf while never quite forgetting what we lost.

“Any news?” I ask, as we take our seats, though I already know the answer. It's the same question I've been asking for two years.

Achilles shakes his head. “I still haven’t found Harold. He's gone to ground. Whatever supporters he had left scattered after the mountain incident. I’ve followed every lead, and he’s disappeared just like she did. But-” He hesitates, his expression carefully neutral.

I feel my pulse quicken. “But?”

“We might’ve found something else.” He meets my eyes steadily.

I don’t want to hear it, but I don’t stop him. Part of me wants to scream at him to shut the hell up, to leave me to my silence. But the other part of me, the one that’s been slowly clawing away at my resolve for two years, can’t help but listen.

“She’s done a good job going off the grid,” Achilles continues, voice low. “Disappeared completely. But, just recently, a whisper surfaced. A hint of where she might be hiding. I’m almost certain it’s her.”

I don’t have the right to chase her anymore.

“She doesn’t want me,” I say, the words thick with the bitterness I’ve carried since the day she left me in the forest. “She made her choice.”

Achilles eyes me carefully, as if weighing whether to argue or not. But he doesn't. Instead, he leans back in his chair, studying me.

“You don’t have to keep living in that headspace, Piers,” he says softly, like he’s trying to get through the wall I’ve built. “I can’t tell you what to do, but you don’t have to be alone. Not if you don’t want to be.”

My gaze hardens. “I’ve got my family. The Warwicks. The kids. That’s enough.”

But Achilles just shakes his head, his eyes filled with something I don’t have the energy to process. “Piers, that’s the problem. You can’t be the man you used to be if you keep locking everything down like this. You’re shutting yourself off from more than just Fantasia. And if you keep doing that, you’ll lose everyone else too.”

I don’t reply, can’t bring myself to.

Silence stretches between us. When Achilles speaks again, his voice is careful. “What changed, Piers?”

I look away before turning back to face him, forcing a smile that feels more like a grimace. “Maybe I finally learned my lesson.”

Achilles watches me a beat too long, those obsidian eyes stripping me bare. “You're lying.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.” The word cracks like a whip. “You haven't given up on her. You're flaying yourself alive instead.”

I pivot toward the window where rain needles the glass. Can't face that surgical scrutiny- not when it might expose the raw truth. “Maybe I am. Or maybe I'm finally accepting what everyone's been telling me.”

“Which is?” His shadow looms across the wall, relentless.

“That some things aren't meant to be fixed.” The words taste bitter on my tongue. “That sometimes, no matter how much you want something, it's better to let it go.”

Achilles is quiet for a long moment before shifting in his chair.. “You know, I've been thinking about what happened. About my part in all of this.”

I glance at him, surprised by the admission.

“I was so focused on protecting her,” he continues, leaning forward, “that I never stopped to consider what she actually needed. Maybe if I had...”

“We both made mistakes,” I say quietly. “We thought we knew what was best for her.”

“And instead we drove her away.”

We'd both tried to control her fate- Achilles by sending her away, me by trying to force her to be with me. And in the end, she'd chosen her own path. Away from both of us.

I move to the window, watching the rain streak down the glass in thin, restless rivers. “It doesn't matter now.”

“Doesn't it?”

The sound of rustling fabric draws my attention. I turn to see Achilles reach into his jacket and pull out a small piece of paper. He places it on the desk, but doesn’t slide it toward me.

“The information's here if you want it.”

I stare at the paper, my heart hammering against my ribs. Such a small thing to hold so much weight.

“I won't use it,” I tell him. I should let this go. I promised myself I would, though every fiber of my being wants to snatch it up.

Achilles nods once, like he expected that, but something about the look in his eyes tells me he doesn’t quite believe it.

He stands, sliding his gloves back on with slow, deliberate movements. “You’re a stubborn bastard, Piers.”

“Takes one to know one,” I mutter, but my heart isn’t in it.

He exhales, shaking his head. “You’re sure about this?”

I meet his gaze, my voice steady. “Yeah.”

Achilles studies me for another long moment. “Keep it anyway. Just in case.”

He straightens his jacket then turns for the door.

“Achilles,” I call just as he reaches for the handle.

He pauses, looking back.

“Thank you… for letting me know.”

He nods once, then slips out, leaving me alone with my thoughts and a piece of paper I won't let myself read.

Not yet, anyway.