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26

Aithan

I step into my father’s office, ready to tell him what I have just learned about Lazaro and to discuss how to deal with him. Instead, I stop short, my entire body tensing at the sight before me.

Bella and her mother.

Sitting stiffly on the sleek leather couch, they look like a pair of cornered animals. Bella’s hands twist in her lap, her nails digging into the fabric of her dress. She stares at the floor, avoiding my gaze completely. Her mother, usually a woman of practiced elegance, grips her designer clutch like a lifeline, her manicured fingers trembling against the leather.

A warning prick at the base of my spine.

Something is very wrong.

I glance at my father, who sits behind his massive desk, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. His face is unreadable. “The Galanis women have some important information to share with you.”

All of a sudden, the air in the room becomes heavy—too heavy.

I move to the chair across from them, lowering myself into it slowly, keeping my expression neutral, though my instincts are screaming.

The silence stretches.

I let it.

Then, in a voice as sharp as a blade, I finally speak.

“What the hell is going on?”

Bella shifts uneasily, but it’s her mother who answers.

“We need to talk,” she says, her voice wavering.

I arch a brow, unimpressed. “Then talk.”

Sabastian leans back in his chair, his tone casual—too casual. “Bella’s mother has something to share. Something that might interest you.”

I shift my gaze to the woman in question, my patience wearing thin. “I don’t have time for games. Spit it out.”

She inhales deeply, as if summoning courage. Then, in a voice just above a whisper, she says the words that change everything.

“Lazaro is behind the attack on Yelena.”

The room turns to ice.

The breath I exhale is slow, controlled, but beneath my exterior, my rage begins to coil, dark and violent. I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, my pewter-gold eyes locking onto hers.

“Do you realize the gravity of what you’re saying?” My voice is quiet. Lethal.

She nods. “I do.”

I tilt my head, studying her, watching for any sign of deception. “And you suddenly decided to turn on your husband? Why?”

She grips her clutch tighter. “Because I can’t stand by and watch him destroy my daughter’s life. I ignored a lot of things over the years—his cruelty, his hunger for power—but this? This is too far.”

I glance at Bella, who still refuses to meet my gaze. “And you?” My voice is sharp, cutting through her like a blade. “You went along with this?”

She flinches, her lip trembling. “I didn’t know.”

I scoff, unimpressed. “Bullshit.”

“I swear, Aithan.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “I had no idea.”

I lean back, exhaling through my nose. “Start from the beginning.”

Her mother does.

And with every word that leaves her mouth, my rage grows.

“Lazaro has always been… ambitious,” she begins. “But in the past few years, it’s become something darker. He’s not satisfied with being a respected name in the organization. He wants more—power, status, influence.”

She pauses before adding, “He doesn’t just want to be a notable member of the Elliniki . He wants to be tied to the leading family.”

A muscle in my jaw ticks.

“He wanted Bella to be your wife,” she continues, her voice tight. “He pushed her to stay in a relationship with you, even when it was clear you had no intention of making it permanent. Or that you even wanted her.”

I turn to Bella again. “And you went along with it?”

She swallows hard. “I thought… I thought if I could just get you to see me, really see me, you’d change your mind. And in turn, I'll make my father proud for once.”

I let out a dark, humorless laugh. “You thought I’d wake up one day and decide to marry you?”

She doesn’t answer.

Her mother steps in. “She didn’t have a choice.”

I drag a hand down my face. Lazaro had been forcing this—forcing Bella into my bed, forcing an alliance through marriage, forcing a position at the top.

And when I ruined his plans by marrying Yelena, he retaliated.

It all falls into place like shattered glass reforming into a blade.

Lazaro spent years positioning Bella as my only viable option. And when that failed—when I publicly rejected her in favor of a woman with more power, more connections, and more strength—he hadn’t just accepted it.

He called for war. A cold and silent war.

My unborn child was his first casualty. And will be his only victim, I swear.

My fists clench, my vision narrowing as pure rage courses through me. “He tried to kill my wife.” My voice is dangerously quiet.

Bella’s mother nods. “And if he knows we are here, if he even suspects I’ve spoken to you… he’ll kill me. And Bella too.”

I hold her gaze, searching for any trace of deceit.

I find none.

Then she says something that makes my blood run colder.

“There was supposed to be a second attack.”

Silence.

The kind that hums, charged with the promise of violence.

“What did you just say?” My voice is so low, so lethal, that Bella visibly shudders.

She swallows, hesitant. “Lazaro wasn’t going to stop with poisoning Yelena.”

A slow, deadly rage unfurls inside me.

"He is also planning to sabotage the organization's businesses, deals, and especially your relationship with the Bratva. He was pissed when war didn’t breakout between us and the Russians after the gun deal was interrupted."

I rise so suddenly that my chair scrapes against the floor. My hands slam down onto my father’s desk, rattling everything on it.

Bella’s mother flinches. Bella lets out a small gasp. Even my father watches me warily.

Lazaro planned another attack.

That son of a bitch was going to make another move.

A storm brews inside me, dark and unrelenting. My pulse pounds in my ears, my breathing slow and measured as I struggle to contain the overwhelming need for blood.

“He’s already a dead man,” I murmur. “But now? Now I’m going to enjoy killing him.”

My father lets out a slow exhale. “We need to move carefully—”

“I don’t give a damn about being careful.” My voice is pure steel. “He tried to kill my wife. He’s not getting another chance.”

Bella’s mother takes a shaky breath. “I need protection.”

“And why the hell should I help you?” I flick my gaze to her. “You watched your husband wreck these havocs and stayed quiet.”

She lifts her chin, though her hands still tremble. “I kept quiet because going against him means my death, but he has extended his callousness to my child. I am a mother who has failed her child for years, but I hope it is not too late to fight for her.”

My jaw tightens, and I push down a surge of pity. I don’t give a damn about her. But I do give a damn about one thing—finding Lazaro and putting a bullet between his eyes.

"Where is he now?"

"He fled the house after receiving a phone call that you have captured his hitman."

"Do you know his current location?"

"No."

Sabastian studies her, then speaks. “And what do you expect in return for this information?”

She exhales. “Protection and a way out.”

I stare at her for a long moment. Then, slowly, I nod.

“You’ll get protection,” I say. “But if you’re lying, if this is some kind of ploy—” I lean in, my voice lethal. “I’ll put you in the ground next to him.”

She doesn’t flinch. “I understand.”

Sabastian leans forward, his voice even. “Then we move quickly. If Lazaro was planning another attack, we will have to strike first.”

I clench my fists, the promise of violence thrumming in my veins.

Lazaro is a dead man walking.

And I won’t stop until he takes his last breath.