Page 13 of Watch Me Burn

AARON

T he ballroom feels like it’s shrinking around me as I step back inside, all those glittering chandeliers and silk-covered tables suddenly looking like props in some elaborate trap.

My chest gets tighter with each breath, every muscle coiled like I’m about to spring into action or completely fall apart.

Marriage. To Caterina fucking Mortelle.

The words bounce around in my skull like pinballs, each repetition making less sense than the last. But I can’t let the sheer insanity of it drown me. I need answers. Clarity. Most importantly, I need to talk to Tristan alone, somewhere Mortelle’s people can’t eavesdrop on every word.

My heart kicks up when I spot him at the bar, trying to look casual but failing spectacularly.

His shoulders are too rigid, his grip on that whiskey glass too tight.

Our eyes meet across the crowded room, and something passes between us—the kind of silent communication you develop after years of navigating shark-infested business waters together.

He tilts his head almost imperceptibly toward a secluded alcove behind one of those ornate marble columns that probably cost more than most people’s houses.

I make my way through the crowd, forcing smiles and nodding at people whose names I can’t remember, each hollow greeting scraping against nerves that are already raw. When I reach the alcove, Tristan’s already there, amber liquid swirling in his crystal tumbler.

“You look like absolute hell,” he says as I approach.

“You’re one to talk.”

I notice the blue-purple bruise blooming along his temple, spreading like spilled ink. “What the fuck happened after Mortelle’s goons separated us?”

Tristan’s jaw tightens as he downs the rest of his drink in one harsh swallow. “They provided a very physical reminder of our new working relationship.” He touches his ribs gingerly, face pinching with pain. “Nothing’s broken, but their message came through crystal clear.”

“Those fucking animals?—”

“It doesn’t matter right now,” he cuts me off, voice dropping to barely above a whisper. “What matters is whatever Mortelle and his psychotic daughter said to you out there. What’s their endgame? How screwed are we?”

I lean against the cold marble column, feeling the weight of this entire disaster settling on my shoulders like a lead blanket. Cold sweat clings to my spine. Exhaustion bleeds into my bones. “Same threats as before, but the stakes just got a hell of a lot higher.”

“Specifics, Aaron. I need the fucking details.”

“They are serious about the marriage.”

“This isn’t just signing a business contract we can break later. This is your entire life we’re talking about. You understand that, right? What this means?”

“You think I don’t grasp how monumentally fucked this situation is?

” The words come out sharper than I intend, my control starting to fray at the edges.

“You think I don’t understand that we can’t just walk away from this?

It’s complete integration. They want to own everything we’ve built. Everything we are.”

The last words are heavy and irretrievable. Tristan’s expression shifts, the tactical businessman momentarily giving way to my friend, genuinely concerned about what this will do to me.

“What about Caterina? How does she feel about this little arranged marriage? She looked ready to slit my throat and smile for the cameras.”

A laugh escapes my throat. “She claims it wasn’t her brilliant idea, but she’s playing along like the perfect obedient daughter. Even suggested we work ‘parallel’ to each other instead of trying to destroy one another. Like this is some kind of corporate merger instead of emotional blackmail.”

Tristan’s eyes narrow dangerously. “Tell me you’re not buying whatever bullshit game she’s running.”

The question hits like an accusation, striking way too close to the confusion that’s been eating me alive. The memory of Caterina’s breath against my ear, her pulse hammering beneath my fingers, sends unwelcome heat flooding through my system that has nothing to do with anger.

And that’s what pisses me off the most. Why the hell am I fixating on the curve of her neck? The way her breath caught when I grabbed her wrist? The graceful way she moves like she’s dancing even when she’s standing still?

“Don’t insult me,” I growl, voice rough with self-hatred. “I know exactly what she is.”

But even as I say it, fragmented images flash unbidden through my mind.

Caterina silhouetted against the city lights, the dangerous glint in her eyes when she smiled, the graceful precision of her fingers adjusting my tie.

Unwelcome memories flicker across my vision, like a slideshow curated by my worst instincts

Tristan exhales slowly. “You’re right. I’m sorry, that was out of line.”

“She’s stalked me for months, toying with me in this sick game. Now suddenly we’re partners? Husband and wife?” The words corrode my tongue like acid. “It’s insane.”

“Aaron—”

The urge to punch something overwhelms me. To feel physical pain that might drown out these unwanted thoughts for even a few seconds.

“I hate everything about this.”

“I know you do. But we need to get ahead of them somehow, beat them at their own game.”

“Which means I have to go through with it. Mortelle was crystal clear. Refuse, and we’re both dead. Everyone we care about becomes collateral damage. You said it yourself, whatever’s on that drive has him scared enough to force this union.”

“There’s something you should know.” Tristan’s expression darkens as he edges closer, voice barely audible.

“The drive isn’t just blackmail material, Aaron.

It’s a nuclear option. If Mortelle gains control of it, he won’t just kill us—he’ll erase us.

People, evidence, entire lives wiped from existence. Including ours.”

“Then why haven’t we used it as leverage? Threatened him directly with exposure?”

“Because the encryption has a deadman’s switch built in.

We have to enter a verification code every forty-eight hours or everything uploads automatically to every major news outlet worldwide.

Every dirty secret, every murder, every illegal operation Mortelle has ever touched goes public simultaneously. And he knows it.”

Everything is starting to make a lot more sense now. “That’s why he can’t just put bullets in our heads. He needs us breathing.”

“Breathing and compliant. He’s trapped too, in his own way. Hence the medieval marriage proposal—binding you directly to his bloodline. It’s archaic as hell, but effective.”

“If we have that kind of leverage, why are we even having this conversation? Why not just threaten to release everything unless he backs off completely?”

Tristan shakes his head grimly. “It’s not that simple.

The drive doesn’t just contain Mortelle’s crimes.

It’s got other crime families, dirty politicians, corrupt businessmen…

including us. Every questionable deal we’ve made, every corner we’ve cut, every line we’ve crossed building our empire.

Everything that happens at Untamed. We pull that trigger, we go down in flames right alongside him. ”

“When exactly were you planning to share this little detail with me?”

“When I absolutely had to,” he admits, unable to meet my eyes. “I was trying to protect you from?—”

“Protect me?” My voice jumps an octave. “You kept me in the dark for months. Let me walk into this situation completely blind. That’s not protection, that’s manipulation.”

“I know. I fucked up royally. But we’re here now, and decisions have to be made.” His jaw sets with determination. “Marry Caterina, and we buy time. We get access to inside information we could never get otherwise. We might find a way to break Mortelle’s stranglehold on us.”

I consider this angle, thinking about the tactical advantage of being inside the enemy’s inner circle. “At what cost? My sanity? My soul? Being shackled to a woman who kills people like it’s her hobby?”

“At the cost of staying alive. Both of us. Everyone we give a damn about.” His eyes bore into mine. “Can you handle her?”

I think about the electric current that crackles between Caterina and me, that undeniable pull that defies every rational thought in my head.

That’s what makes this so unbearable—knowing that even if circumstances were different, even if she weren’t Mortelle’s daughter, even if she weren’t a stone-cold killer, there would still be this inexplicable magnetism.

This gravitational force that makes no logical sense whatsoever.

But none of that matters right now.

“I have to,” I say quietly, feeling resolve crystallize in my spine like steel. “We’re out of options. Saying no means losing everything. I won’t let that happen.”

“I never wanted it to go this far. Sorry I dragged you into this.”

“Don’t apologize. We built this life together. We’ll defend it together, even if it means sleeping next to the enemy every night.”

Something dark flickers across Tristan’s features. “That’s what scares me most. Caterina Mortelle isn’t just any enemy. She’s lethal, unpredictable, and apparently fascinated with you for reasons we don’t understand.”

My mind drifts to Caterina on the terrace, moonlight carving shadows across her features, that momentary vulnerability when discussing her father. The undeniable hum that surged through me when she leaned into my grip.

I want to rip every trace of her out of my system—every glance, every whispered word, every flicker of unwanted attraction. Burn it all to ash.

The fact that they exist at all, at a time like this, when our lives hang in the balance, makes me question my own sanity.

“She’s also our best shot at understanding Mortelle’s operation from the inside.”

“Assuming she doesn’t slit your throat on your wedding night,” Tristan mutters.

“She’s had countless opportunities to kill me already. For whatever reason, she wants me alive.”

Tristan’s eyebrows draw together. “Actually, there’s something else you should know about Caterina. Something I uncovered recently.”

“What now?”

He pauses, choosing his words carefully. “Her solo missions, the ones she conducts without daddy’s knowledge? They follow a very specific pattern. They’re strategically targeted.”

“Targeted how?”

“Every man she’s killed in the past year has connections to a particular trafficking operation. One that her father is allegedly linked to, though I don’t have solid proof yet. I think she’s waging her own private war against part of her father’s empire.”

This stuns me for a few seconds. “You’re saying she’s working against her own father?”

“I don’t know for certain. Not openly, anyway. This is pure speculation until I can gather hard evidence. But my instincts are screaming that she’s working toward some bigger endgame. I don’t think she’s killing powerful men just for the thrill of it.”

“Why would she do something that dangerous?”

“No clue. But if you’re going to be married to her, it might be worth finding out what drives her.”

This adds another layer of complexity to an already impossible situation. “So I’m not just marrying a killer. I’m marrying a killer with a secret agenda.”

“An agenda that might align with our interests if we play this right,” Tristan points out. “The enemy of our enemy?—”

“Is still a ruthless assassin who’s also a psychopath,” I finish grimly.

Tristan manages a bitter smile. “God help you both, because you’re probably going to end up destroying each other.”

I glance across the ballroom toward the terrace where I left Caterina, picturing her still standing there wrapped in shadows and secrets, waiting for my decision. “I don’t believe in God, but she’s going to need all the divine intervention she can get.”

“So here’s the plan: you marry Caterina, we use your position to gather intelligence on Mortelle’s entire operation, and when the moment is right?—”

“—we burn them to the ground. Whatever it takes.”

Tristan nods, a silent agreement forming between us. “Whatever it takes.”

For the first time since Mortelle delivered his ultimatum, this feels less like surrender and more like strategy. A calculated opening move in a game we’re determined to win.

I grip Tristan’s shoulder firmly. “No more secrets between us. Whatever else you’re hiding, whatever you discover going forward, I need to know everything.”

Guilt flashes across his face before he nods. “Everything. Complete transparency from now on, I swear.”

“Good. Because if I’m going to survive being married to Caterina, I need to know exactly what I’m walking into.”

“Then strap yourself in, brother. The shit we’re dealing with now is just the opening act.”

As Tristan melts back into the crowd of oblivious partygoers, I stay in the shadows, my mind racing through contingencies and possibilities. I take a deep, steadying breath, knowing that once I give Mortelle my answer, there won’t be any way back from this precipice.

My thoughts drift to Caterina again—her enigmatic smile, the dangerous grace in her movements, the electricity that crackles between us despite my hatred. The predator who’s hunted me relentlessly, soon to be bound to me by law and blood.

Marriage. Alliance. Betrayal. Survival.

The boundaries blur, becoming indistinguishable in the chaos that my life has become.

But one truth burns clear through all the madness: Caterina Mortelle has no idea who she’s agreed to marry.

Because when this all ends, when her father is nothing but ash and their empire lies in ruins, she won’t be the one left standing.

I will.

And she’ll learn the hard way what it costs to fuck with Aaron Jackson.