Beneath The Surface Of His Heart 3

1. Damier

T he sound of my jet’s engine was steady, a quiet rhythm that usually helped me relax, but tonight, I was far from calm. I sat back in the plush leather seat of my private plane, my headphones on, listening to The 48 Laws of Power . The narrator’s voice was crisp and calculated, each word sharpening my focus. It wasn’t my first time hearing it—I’d read the book five times—but tonight, the words hit differently.

I stared out the window at the endless stretch of dark sky. I had been to Canada before, but this trip was different. It wasn’t business, at least not the usual kind. I was heading there to drag my own identical twin back. The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth, and I clenched my jaw as the narrator spoke about crushing your enemies completely. I wasn’t sure what Damian was anymore—blood or enemy—but either way, this had to end.

The audiobook droned on as my eyelids grew heavy. The weight of the past few weeks had finally caught up with me—Kita’s betrayal, Troy’s demise, and the knowledge that Damian had been hiding in plain sight. I started to drift, my thoughts swirling with anger and exhaustion.

Then, a nudge at my shoulder snapped me awake.

“Yo,” Hocus said, his tone low but urgent. He had his phone in hand, the glow of the screen casting shadows on his face. “You need to see this.”

I pulled my headphones off, blinking away the grogginess as I sat up. “What is it?”

Hocus handed me his phone, his expression serious. “Marco’s Instagram. Check his story.”

I frowned, scrolling to the video Hocus had queued up. Marco was in the foreground, laughing and talking shit in Italian, but it wasn’t him I was focused on. In the background, sitting lowkey, wearing dark YSL shades and dressed in all black, was Damian.

The audacity.

The casual way he lounged in the background, sipping a drink, as if he didn’t have the weight of betrayal on his shoulders. As if he hadn’t been running from me for months.

I handed the phone back to Hocus, irritation running through my veins. “Get Marco on the phone. Now.”

Hocus nodded, already dialing. The phone rang a few times before Marco’s voice came through, smooth and cocky.

“Damier,” Marco greeted, his tone light. “What can I do for you?”

I leaned forward, my voice cold and sharp. “Stop the bullshit, Marco. I know Damian sent you to do business with me. I just saw him in your Instagram story, sitting in the back like a sore thumb. Let me make this clear—if you want this deal to go through, you’re going to hand him and his bitch over to me.”

There was a pause on the other end. Marco didn’t respond immediately, and I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head.

“Listen,” I continued, my tone dropping to something darker. “I’m sure my weak-ass brother told you what I’m capable of. You want this venture to stay legit? You want to make money? Then you don’t cross me. You hand him over to make my job easier, or this deal is off, and we’re enemies. And trust me, Marco—you don’t want me as an enemy.”

The line stayed silent for a beat before Marco finally responded, his voice quieter now. “Alright. I’ll set it up. I’m a businessman, not a soldier.”

“Send the address where we can meet. It’s funny because I am already on my way out there to snatch him up,” I flatly said. “So, don’t try any funny shit. I’m not coming alone, and I’m strapped.”

Marco hesitated but eventually agreed. “Okay. I’ll text you a location where we can meet.”

I hung up, leaning back in my seat as I exhaled slowly. My blood was still boiling, but at least the first move was in play. Now, I didn’t have to walk into a death trap by kicking in Damian’s door.

King chuckled from across the aisle, his arms crossed as he watched me. “You think Marco knows what kind of shit he’s in now?”

I smirked, shaking my head. “He’ll figure it out soon enough.”

King leaned forward, grinning. “Man, Damian’s going to shit himself when he sees us. That boy thought he could run forever.”

“He’ll fight,” I said, my tone matter-of-fact. “He always does. But I’m ready.”

King’s grin widened, but I didn’t share his amusement. My mind was already running through every possible scenario. Damian wasn’t going to come quietly, and I didn’t expect him to. But whether he fought or not, this was going to end.

I turned my gaze back to the window, the lights of the jet blinking against the dark sky. I wasn’t there to negotiate. I was there to remind Damian who I was—and what happens when you cross a Knight.