3. Apologize with your blood

Aelia’s POV

What a way to start the week.

I just got these glasses, and now they were broken. Frustrating, but not nearly as concerning as what I’d overheard earlier.

If those women were right, then Pedro Montonio wasn’t just some powerful man. He was married. And his wife? A supermodel with a reputation so terrifying, people compared her to a demon in sleep paralysis.

I clapped my cheeks, inhaling deeply. It’ll be fine. This is probably just a one-time thing.

“BOO! Four eyes.”

“Ahh!” I shrieked, too loudly. A few heads turned, and my scowl deepened at the culprit.

Mike.

“Can you be serious for once? We’re at work,” I hissed.

He grinned, completely unbothered. “Wait, did you grow an extra eye? How many fingers? Quick, count!” He wiggled his long fingers in my face, his expression alight with mock delight.

I swatted his hand away. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Only if you are.” That smug smile of his could probably steal the breath of any woman in this office.

Except mine.

“I’m immune to your charms, Mike.”

“Say that one more time, and I might actually fall in love,” he teased with a wink.

I laughed despite myself. Some things never changed. Mike had been this way since our days in the orphanage, carefree, impossible to faze. Being around him always made things feel bearable, like life wasn’t so bad after all.

“Anyway,” he said, stretching, “let’s get your glasses fixed after work.”

“Right,” I nodded, pretending to focus on my paperwork. But Mike being Mike, kept talking, this time about how wealthy heiresses were fighting over him.

Do I believe him? Absolutely not.

Did I listen? Of course.

His voice blurred out the thoughts I didn’t want to deal with.

Finally, work ended.

For once, my self-absorbed boss hadn’t thrown another case at me. Maybe even he realized I needed a break. My current lawsuit was no joke and I’m not even the lawyer, I’m just the social worker in charge but I feel drained. I was up against people too powerful to fight. Yet somehow, I had made it this far. The second hearing was in three weeks.

“Let’s take this alley,” I suggested as we left the office.

Mike shot me a skeptical look. “You don’t take this alley alone, do you?”

I shrugged. “It’s faster when I head to the chapel.”

“It’s dangerous for a girl like you. Only take this route if I’m with you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine.”

As we walked, an eerie feeling crept over me.

Something was… off.

My eyes landed on a sleek black car parked at the far end. Odd. I took this path often and had never seen it before.

A nagging feeling settled in my gut.

I turned slightly, another black car sat at the opposite end.

The alley was always quiet, almost forgotten by the city, surrounded by old buildings. But tonight, it felt too secluded.

A chill ran down my spine.

“Mike,” I murmured, my throat tightening. “I think we need to run.”

“What?!”

His voice echoed down the alley.

Just what we needed—to alert whoever was watching us!

I turned to glare at him, but before I could get a word out—

A strong arm yanked me backward.

“Ahh!”

Mike barely had time to react before another man struck him, sending him to his knees with brutal force.

“Stop! Wh-who are you?! Why are you doing this—Mhmm!”

A rough hand clamped over my mouth, cutting off my scream. My face was crushed beneath his grip, my breath coming out in sharp, panicked gasps.

The man sneered. “Aren’t you the b*tch who filed that lawsuit for the old lady?”

My stomach dropped.

Before I could answer, a vicious slap sent me sprawling onto the cold, wet pavement.

Pain exploded across my cheek.

I should have been terrified for myself.

But my eyes locked on Mike.

Pinned against the wall, his right arm bent at an unnatural angle, his face twisted in pain. His muffled protests were swallowed by the walls.

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to fight.

But my body—my useless, pathetic body—froze.

The man loomed over me, his expression filled with sick pleasure.

“Listen carefully,” he spat. “We ask the questions here. Anymore mistakes, and that pretty face of yours will be unrecognizable.”

I should have responded.

But all I could think about was how familiar this felt.

The Spencers.

The nights when I curled into myself, bracing for the next blow. The helplessness of knowing no one would stop them enveloped me.

The man raised his hand again.

Mike shouted my name.

I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the impact,

But it never came.

Instead, a sickening crack.

I peered up.

The man who had been inches from striking me now dangled in the air.

Pedro Montonio’s hand was wrapped around his throat.

My breath hitched.

Where did he even come from?!

The men who had been so brutal just seconds ago now shook in terror.

“Boss—! It was a mistake—”

Pedro tightened his grip, cutting off the man’s desperate plea.

The others scrambled back like cornered rats, their bravado gone. It was pathetic how quickly they turned spineless.

I didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe either.

I barely noticed Mike rushing to my side, his free hand hovering over my face. “Are you hurt? Let me see—”

“I’m fine,” I whispered, my voice weak. I forced a shaky smile. “That tickles.”

Mike exhaled in relief—just as two of the men collapsed to their knees before us.

I flinched.

They weren’t begging for our mercy.

They were facing him.

Pedro stood over them, expression void of emotion.

Then…

“Apologize.”

His voice was calm. Too calm.

“With your blood.”

The breath left my lungs.

A chill unlike anything I’d ever felt settled over me.

I wasn’t sure what terrified me more. Pedro’s presence or the fact that the men already knew their fate.

And as they trembled before him, I realized…

I had never feared someone as much as I feared Pedro Montonio.