Jordan's car skidded to a stop outside Victor's compound, tires screeching against the pavement as he yanked the steering wheel to the right. The vehicle lurched violently, nearly clipping the stone pillars that marked the entrance. "Shit," Jordan cursed, his knuckles white against the wheel. The engine ticked as it cooled, the smell of burnt rubber hanging in the air. "Roberto, you still with me?" Roberto groaned from the backseat, his breathing shallow. Blood had soaked through the makeshift bandage Jordan had wrapped around his torso, staining the leather seats beneath him a dark crimson. "We're here," Jordan said, throwing open his door and rushing to the back. "Don't die yet. Victor has questions." The compound's floodlights washed the driveway in harsh white light, casting long shadows across the manicured lawn. Jordan yanked open the back door and pulled Roberto out, half-carrying him toward the house. Roberto's head lolled against Jordan's shoulder, his body growing heavie
Moments later, Roberto was being attended to by Victor's private doctor in one of the guest rooms. The man worked silently, cutting away Roberto's blood-soaked shirt to reveal the bullet wound beneath. "Will he live?" Victor asked from the doorway, his voice devoid of emotion. The doctor glanced up, his hands steady as he prepared to extract the bullet. "If infection doesn't set in, yes. The bullet missed any vital organs, but he's lost a significant amount of blood." Victor nodded once. "Keep him alive. I need answers." With that, he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the hallway. Jordan followed, exchanging a glance with Maria, who nodded slightly before turning back to assist the doctor. Victor led them to his study with tension on his shoulder, Gerald was already there, his frame perched on the edge of a leather armchair that seemed too small for him. He stood as they entered, his expression wary. "Boss," he greeted, his voice the only thing in the room
Xavier sat in his office, swirling a glass of whiskey in his hand. The amber liquid caught the light from the desk lamp, casting golden reflections on the polished mahogany. Outside, rain pattered against the windows, a steady drumming that matched the beat of his growing frustration. He hated not being in control. He had everything under control until it all started going to shit. First, Victor was back—the bastard who should have died when Xavier had him shot three times in the chest five years ago. Somehow, he'd survived, and now he was back, reclaiming territory that Xavier had worked so hard to take. And now this. His only leverage against Victor was slipping away too. Xavier took a long sip of whiskey, savoring the burn as it slid down his throat. He set the glass down with deliberate care, his eyes never leaving the woman across from him. Selena sat tied to a chair, her dark hair falling in tangles around her face. Despite the bruises blooming on her cheekbone and the s
The pier stretched before Jordan like a ghost ship, abandoned and silent under the dim glow of flickering lamps. The only sound came from the gentle lapping of waves against the wooden pillars beneath, a rhythmic mockery of his racing heartbeat. The cool mist from the ocean clung to his skin as he scanned the deserted area. Empty. The boy wasn't here. "Damn it," Jordan muttered, turning in a slow circle, his eyes searching the shadows for any sign of movement. The meeting spot Roberto had described was unmistakable—the third dock with the blue shipping container—but there was no sign of Miguel or Roberto's sister. He checked his watch: 11:17 PM. The boat wasn't due for another forty-three minutes, but the boy should have been here by now if he'd followed Roberto's directions. Jordan pulled out his phone, dialing Victor's number. "He's not at the pier," Jordan said immediately when Victor answered. "No sign of him or Roberto's sister." Victor's silence on the other end was m
Pain came first—a dull, throbbing ache that pulsed behind Jordan's eyes with each beat of his heart. The world returned to him in fragments: the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, the cold bite of metal against his wrists, the smell of damp concrete and cigarette smoke. Jordan blinked slowly, his vision blurry and unfocused. A single light bulb hung from the ceiling, swaying almost imperceptibly, casting shifting shadows across the walls of what appeared to be a basement or cell. The movement made his stomach roll with nausea, and he swallowed hard against the urge to vomit. "Focus," he muttered to himself, his voice rough as sandpaper. "Get it together." He tried to move, only to find his hands bound tightly behind his back, secured with what felt like zip ties cutting into his skin. His ankles were similarly restrained, fastened to the legs of a heavy metal chair that was bolted to the floor. The restraints were professional work—no slack, no give, no easy way out. Jordan fle
"I must admit, I'm curious," Xavier continued from somewhere behind Jordan. "Did Victor really think one man could succeed where an entire team failed?" A pause. "Or perhaps he simply considered you... expendable." Jordan felt Xavier's presence directly behind him, could sense the man leaning closer to his ear. "Tell me, Jordan," Xavier whispered, his breath hot against Jordan's neck. "How does it feel to be the sacrificial pawn in Victor's game?" Jordan kept his eyes fixed on the wall ahead. "Better than being the king with no kingdom," he replied evenly. "How many territories have you fucking lost to Victor this month? Three? Four?" The sudden backhand caught Jordan across the jaw, snapping his head to the side. Pain exploded through his face, but he smiled through it, tasting fresh blood. "Touched a nerve there, didn't I?" Jordan said, spitting blood onto the floor. Xavier moved back into Jordan's line of sight, straightening his cuffs as if nothing had happened. But Jordan
Victor paced his study like a caged tiger, his expensive shoes wearing an invisible path in the plush carpet. The phone in his hand remained silent, a mocking reminder of Jordan's continued absence. He had tried calling for the eighth time, each attempt met with the same result—straight to voicemail. "Damn it," Victor muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Where the hell are you, Jordan?" He glanced at his watch—11:34 PM. Jordan should have called by now. Should have reported in. Should have found Miguel. The knock at the door was tentative, almost hesitant. Victor knew before it opened that it would be bad news. Gerald entered, his massive frame filling the doorway. The years had softened his physique but not his presence. His weathered face was grim, the deep lines around his mouth pulled down in a frown. "Boss," Gerald began, his voice low and gravelly. "We found Jordan's phone." Victor went still, his body tensing as he asked. "Where?" "Near the old textile factory on
*Two years earlier* "You know, a normal person would say 'Thank you, Jordan, for saving my life,'" Jordan said, pressing a bandage to the gash on Maria's arm. His touch was gentle despite the teasing tone of his voice. Maria rolled her eyes, wincing slightly as he secured the bandage. "If you hadn't been showing off, I wouldn't have needed saving in the first place." They were in the back of the car, having narrowly escaped a meeting gone wrong. Jordan had pulled her out of the line of fire, but not before she'd caught a stray bullet graze. "Showing off?" Jordan raised an eyebrow, his hazel eyes dancing with amusement. "Is that what you fucking call taking down three armed men while protecting your ungrateful ass?" Maria snorted, but there was a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I had it under control." "Sure you did," Jordan replied, his voice softening. "That's why you were about to charge a guy with a semi-automatic using nothing but your charming personality." The
Victor sat alone in his study, the lights off, only the moon casting silver shadows across the room. Selena's diary lay open on his desk, her words like ghosts haunting the space between heartbeats.He reached for his glass of whiskey, but his hand shook so badly that it slipped from his fingers, shattering against the hardwood floor. Just like everything else in his life—broken, sharp, dangerous to touch.Five years of hatred. Five years of plotting revenge against Xavier, believing Selena had willingly betrayed him. All while she had been protecting their son, enduring God knows what horrors to keep Miguel safe."I didn't know," he whispered to the empty room, his voice cracking. "I didn't know."Something hot and wet slid down his cheek. Victor touched it, surprised. He couldn't remember the last time he had cried. Not when his mother died. Not when he was sent to prison. Not even when he believed Selena had chosen his enemy over him.But now, alone in the dark, the tears came like
Miguel's question echoed in Victor's mind long after he'd tucked his son into bed. Don't you want Mommy to come home? The truth was, Victor didn't know what he wanted anymore. For five years, anger had been his compass, pointing him forward when nothing else could. But now that compass was spinning wildly, unable to find true north. The next morning, after checking on Miguel who was still sleeping with the gold locket clutched in his small fist, Victor found himself standing in the doorway of Selena's empty room. He hadn't been inside since she left. Hadn't wanted to. Now he stepped in, the door clicking shut behind him. The space still smelled faintly of her jasmine perfume. Victor ran his fingers along the dresser top, expecting dust, but the servants had kept the room cleaned. As if expecting her return. He opened a drawer, not sure what he was looking for. Empty. She had taken almost everything, leaving behind only what she had arrived with—nothing. In the closet, a s
The morning sun filtered through Miguel's curtains, painting warm shapes on his bedroom floor. His eyes fluttered open, small fists rubbing away sleep. For one peaceful moment, everything was normal.Then he remembered yesterday's adventure with Mommy. Her extra tight hugs. The way she kept touching his face like she was trying to remember every little part of him."Mommy?" he called, climbing out of bed.When no answer came, Miguel padded down the hallway in his dinosaur pajamas, his small feet silent against the marble floor. He pushed open the door to his mother's room.Empty.The bed was made, perfect and untouched. No clothes in the closet. No brush on the dresser. Nothing to show his mother had ever been there at all.A cold feeling spread through Miguel's chest. He ran to the kitchen, to the garden, to all their special places."Mommy?" His voice grew more frantic with each call.He found his father in the study, talking in a low voice with Gerald."Where's Mommy?" Miguel deman
Selena traced her finger along the small apartment's living room window. It wasn't much—two bedrooms, a tiny kitchen, plain walls that needed painting. But it was hers. A place Xavier had never known about. A place Victor couldn't find.She signed the lease with shaking hands."You can move in next week," the landlord told her, handing over the keys.Next week. Seven days to say goodbye to her son.The drive back to Victor's mansion felt endless. Each mile bringing her closer to the hardest decision of her life. But there was no other way. Miguel needed peace. He needed his father. And Victor would never heal with her there, a constant reminder of betrayal and lost years.The next morning, Selena woke Miguel with kisses on his forehead."Let's have an adventure today, just you and me," she whispered.Miguel's sleepy eyes brightened. "What kind of adventure?""A special one. Our secret."She dressed him in his favorite blue shirt and packed a small backpack with snacks and his toy bear
The hospital room was quiet except for the steady beeping of monitors. Maria sat beside Jordan's bed, her fingers gently wrapped around his limp hand. Four days had passed, and still he hadn't opened his eyes."You know," Maria whispered, thinking he couldn't hear her, "I never told you this, but that night in Barcelona... when you took that bullet for me?" She swallowed hard. "That's when I knew."She traced the outline of his bruised knuckles. "I've spent so long pushing people away. Especially you. God, I was so stupid."A tear slipped down her cheek. "Just wake up, Jordan. Wake up so I can tell you that I-""That you what?"Maria froze. Jordan's voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, but his eyes were open—those familiar blue eyes watching her with a hint of their usual mischief."You jerk!" Maria gasped, nearly knocking over her chair as she jumped up. "How long have you been awake?"Jordan's split lip curved into a painful smile. "Long enough to hear you being all mushy. Didn
Maria's fingers trembled as she held Jordan's limp hand. The steady beep of hospital machines filled the sterile room. She hadn't left his side in three days. "You idiot," she whispered, her thumb tracing circles on his bruised knuckles. "You just had to play the hero." Jordan lay still, his face swollen and discolored. Tubes ran into his arms. A breathing mask covered his nose and mouth. The doctors had been clear—his chances weren't good. Broken ribs. Internal bleeding. Severe dehydration. His body had finally given out the moment they'd reached safety. Maria closed her eyes, the memory washing over her again. That second kiss. The way his arms had wrapped around her, pulling her close like she was his anchor in a storm. Then his eyes rolling back, his body crumpling to the ground. "Don't you dare die on me," she said. "Not after everything." A knock on the door made her look up. Gerald stood there, his side bandaged beneath his shirt. "How's our boy?" he asked, moving slowly i
"No! Mommy! NO!"The scream tore through the quiet mansion, jolting Victor from sleep. He was moving before his mind fully registered what was happening, feet hitting the cold floor as he ran toward his son's room.Miguel was thrashing in bed, tears streaming down his small face, fighting some invisible enemy in his dreams."Miguel." Victor sat on the edge of the bed, gathering the boy into his arms. "Wake up, mijo. It's just a dream."Miguel's eyes flew open, wild with terror. For a moment, he didn't seem to recognize Victor."You're safe," Victor murmured, rubbing small circles on the boy's back. "No one can hurt you here."Miguel's small body was hot with fear, his heart racing against Victor's chest. "The bad men were taking Mommy away again," he whispered.Victor closed his eyes, feeling his son's pain like a physical thing. "Your mommy is safe too. She's just down the hall.""Can I see her?" Miguel pleaded, his voice small and lost.Victor hesitated. It was past midnight. The ru
The helicopter blades slowed as they landed at Victor's estate. The night had been long. Too long. Bodies had been cleaned up, loose ends tied, and wounds patched. Victor carried a sleeping Miguel in his arms, the boy's small head resting against his shoulder. Each breath from his son felt like a miracle—a child he hadn't known existed just weeks ago. Behind him, Selena limped up the marble steps of the mansion, her face still bearing the marks of Xavier's cruelty. Thomas helped her walk, his own shoulder bandaged where the bullet had torn through. "Put her in the east wing," Victor told Gerald without looking at Selena. "She'll have everything she needs there." Something flashed across Selena's face—pain, understanding, resignation. She said nothing as Gerald led her away, her eyes lingering on Miguel's sleeping form. Victor stood in the grand foyer, his son in his arms, watching her disappear down the hallway. The space between them felt like miles. --- Three days passed in st
The sudden patter of small footsteps made everyone freeze. A tiny figure appeared in the doorway, his eyes wide with fear and confusion.Miguel stood there clutching his teddy bear, Mr. Growls, to his chest. His small face crumpled at the sight before him—blood, guns, and the adults who were supposed to keep him safe all looking broken and desperate."Mommy?" His voice was small and scared when he noticed his mom being held at gunpoint.Selena's face drained of color. "Miguel! No!" she whispered.Xavier's attention snapped to the boy, his eyes lighting up with sudden calculation. The gun in his hand wavered, then slowly turned toward the child."Come here, boy," Xavier called, his voice honey-sweet despite the madness in his eyes.Victor noticed the shift, saw the way Xavier's body language changed. For all his cruelty, Xavier must have grown fond of the boy who had once called him uncle. It was there in the slight softening around his eyes, the hesitation in his trigger finger.Migue