Page 52 of Shadowed Vows: Ghost (Nightfall Syndicate #1)

forty-one

Alina

T he sterile white walls of the interrogation suite feel oppressive as Damian and Cole drag Steele's inert body into the room. My stomach churns, anticipation and dread coursing through me.

Kade's voice is low, almost gentle. "You don't have to be here for this part, Alina."

I turn to look at him, searching his face. His jaw is set, eyes hard. This is Ghost now, not the Kade I've come to know.

"I'm staying." I lift my chin slightly. "We need answers, and I need to see this through."

His eyes narrow at my defiance, but he nods once. "It won't be pretty."

Through the glass, Damian secures Steele to the chair with practiced efficiency while Cole positions himself by the door.

The principled reporter inside me protests that we're venturing into unethical territory.

Yet the part of me that's witnessed Steele's atrocities firsthand craves retribution, regardless of what it takes.

My breath catches as Damian pulls out a small case, laying out an array of tools that would violate every Geneva Convention rule.

"Wait," I blurt out, pressing my hand against the glass. "Is this really necessary?"

Kade's gaze shifts to mine, his expression hardening into something that silently demands compliance. "Sometimes, Alina, there isn't another way."

Through the intercom, Steele's voice filters in as he regains consciousness. His eyes flicker open, darting around the room before settling on Damian.

"Where are the children?" Damian's voice is cold, detached.

Steele's lips curl into a smirk. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

The crack of Damian's fist connecting with Steele's jaw echoes through the room. I flinch, but my feet remain rooted to the spot.

"Wrong answer." Damian selects a scalpel from his case.

My training kicks in, and I analyze his technique with clinical detachment—the angle of approach, the precise pressure applied. It's textbook interrogation, effective but horrifying. The disconnect between my professional assessment and moral revulsion makes me dizzy.

Cole stands with arms crossed, face impassive. Not his first time witnessing this, clearly .

Steele's screams tear through the room as Damian works methodically. Blood drips onto the concrete floor. Each drop taps out a rhythm that matches my racing pulse.

This isn't justice.

But those children. Jenny. Roman. How many lives has this monster destroyed?

Kade strides from our observation area into the interrogation room, his movements fluid and purposeful. He selects a wicked-looking blade from Damian's case.

"Where are the children?" Kade's voice is ice cold.

Steele spits blood, his face already swollen. "Go to hell."

Kade brings the blade to Steele's fingertip. A scream tears through the room. My legs weaken, and I lean heavily against the wall, struggling to breathe.

After what feels like an eternity, Steele's resolve crumbles.

"Warehouse... Pier 70," he gasps between ragged breaths. "Hidden compartment... under the floor..."

Kade turns his gaze to the one-way mirror, and though he can't see me, his eyes seem to find mine exactly. Jax moves to the intercom.

"We got it," he announces. "I'm dispatching a team there now."

Relief floods through me, quickly followed by shame. The dichotomy twists my stomach—how can I feel relieved when a man is being brutalized, even if he deserves it?

Kade doesn't stop. "Why did you kill Roman?"

Another scream rips through the air. I press my fist to my mouth, fighting the urge to vomit.

My mind reels. The man I've come to care for, maybe even love, is capable of inflicting such deliberate pain. How can I reconcile this with the gentle way he's held me, the vulnerability he's shown in quiet moments?

Steele's laugh is more of a wet gurgle. "Your precious mentor was getting too close. Asking all the wrong questions about our... benefactor."

My ears prick up. Benefactor? There's someone else pulling the strings?

"What benefactor?" Kade's voice remains steady, but his grip on the blade tightens.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Steele grins, blood staining his teeth. "Let's just say there are powers at play far beyond your comprehension, Ghost."

A chill crawls across my skin as he opens his mouth once more. "You know, Kade , it's funny. Your parents asked similar questions once upon a time."

The change in Kade is instant. His entire body goes rigid, and for a split second, raw pain flashes across his face before his mask slams back into place.

"What do you know about my parents?" Kade's voice is dangerously quiet.

Steele's eyes gleam with cruel satisfaction. "Oh, hit a nerve, did I? Tell me, Kade, do you still hear the glass breaking? The screams?"

My heart aches for him. Every instinct screams to burst through that door, to pull him away from this monster taunting him with his deepest pain.

"You don't know anything," Kade growls.

"Don't I?" Steele's laugh is hollow. "I know they died thinking they could make a difference. Just like your friend Roman. Just like you will, if you keep digging."

Kade moves with lightning speed, pressing the blade against Steele's jugular. "Tell me what you know. Now. "

Steele wheezes, but his eyes gleam with victory. "You're in over your head, boy. Your parents thought they could expose the truth, and look where it got them. A robbery gone wrong, wasn't it? So… tragic."

His gaze shifts to the one-way mirror as if he knows exactly where I'm standing. "And your little girlfriend? Such a pretty thing. Did she tell you how she screamed when my men grabbed her?" His voice drops to a rasp.

Something shifts in Kade's eyes. Any remaining warmth vanishes entirely. It's like watching a steel door slam shut, blocking any trace of humanity.

"You can mock my parents all you want," Kade says, his voice eerily calm. He leans in close to Steele's ear. "Call me orphan. Remind me how they died. I don't give a fuck."

His fingers tighten around the blade handle. "But you touched her. You put your hands on Alina."

Kade's jaw clenches. "That was your last mistake."

Without another sound, he pulls the knife across Steele's throat in one clean stroke.

I inhale sharply, staggering backward from the glass. My brain can't process what just happened. Kade... he just... he killed him.

Not in self-defense or in the heat of battle, but deliberately. Execution-style.

Through the window, Kade wipes Steele's blood from his hands, his face an emotionless mask.

Part of me wants to run. This man I've fallen for just killed someone in cold blood. The journalist in me screams that this is wrong, that there had to be another way.

But another part understands with perfect clarity. Steele was a monster who killed people Kade loved, who trafficked innocent people, who would have kept hurting others if given the chance. And Kade... Kade carries the burden of making impossible choices so others don't have to.

When he walks out without looking at me, I know I have a choice to make. I can walk away, preserve my moral high ground. Or I can accept him—all of him, even the darkness—and help him bear this weight.

In this moment, I truly understand why they call him Ghost.

He disappears down the hallway, his footsteps silent against the polished floor. My heart pounds as the slightest smile tugs at my cheek, forming that damned dimple that always gives me away.

I follow him.