Chapter 34
ROAN
I called Gjon last night to inform him of my plans, and he agreed to meet me at Fabian’s mansion, bringing men who, though once loyal to Fabian, have grown tired of his recklessness with their lives and his ever-growing greed.
Even so, the weight of what’s coming presses heavily on my chest as my convoy glides through the winding roads in silence.
Each turn brings us closer to Fabian's fortress—a place where Elira and I once played as children, where our mother’s laughter used to ring through the gardens as she called us in for dinner.
Back when everything was simple. Before betrayal. Before death…
My hands clench into tight fists at the thought that my mother’s death could have been avoided if not for Fabian’s greed and irrational hatred for Ate. Now I finally understand why he’s spent years blaming Ate for what happened. He didn't want to face the role he played in his own sister’s murder.
Coward.
I stare out the window, watching the city thin into rugged countryside, and soon enough we’re making the last familiar turn that will lead us to Fabian’s stronghold.
I glance down at my phone clutched in my hand, jaw clenching. Still nothing from Dhimiter. The last text he sent was the one confirming they’d arrived at the abbey. They’ll be fine. She will be fine. Dhimiter is with her, along with four of my best men.
But the sick, twisting knot in my gut doesn’t ease up even slightly.
I haven’t worried about someone like this since Elira was in danger, and I don’t know how to handle it.
And truth is—it’s not just fear that she’ll get hurt.
It’s the thought of her leaving. Once she has Kayla, she won’t need me.
Won’t need to stay. She’ll disappear, taking her sister with her, like these past few weeks meant anything.
The realization tightens my chest more than I’d like to admit.
I try to tell myself it doesn’t matter if she leaves. She was just a convenient pawn, a tool I used to get to Fabian’s secrets.
But she managed to slip under my skin anyway, and somewhere along the way, she stopped being just a pawn or warm body to distract me from grief.
Fuck, I should have been more careful with my words to Dhimiter yesterday.
Should have known Katie wouldn’t leave the room when dismissed like some obedient subordinate.
I shut my eyes briefly as the expression on her face as she stood in that doorway replays in vivid detail.
I hadn’t meant it the way it sounded. Not exactly. But now it might be too late to fix that misunderstanding. And if she dies thinking I only ever used her—if I lose her before I can make things right—
I shove the thought out of my head. Not now. And she will be fine. There’s no other acceptable outcome.
The gates to Fabian’s estate finally come into view, and I sit up straighter, forcing myself to stop thinking about Katie or the danger she might be facing right now. I need to focus.
We slow at the entrance, but when Fabian’s guards see who it is, they wave us through without question.
I’m Fabian’s nephew, after all. Still mourning the recent loss of my father. They have absolutely no reason not to let me in. They haven’t gotten the memo yet about what’s coming, but they will—soon.
Our cars pull up in front of the main house, and I step out, taking in the meticulously maintained courtyard. Everything looks exactly as I remember.
I adjust my jacket and signal to my men. They fan out behind me in loose formation, hands close to their weapons but still holstered. We don’t want to start the fight before the trap is fully set. Timing is everything.
The front door swings open and Janick, Fabian’s second-in-command, steps out with a tight smile already in place. “Roan Permeti, what a surprise. What brings you here today?”
“My uncle has been unreachable the past few weeks,” I say smoothly, capitalizing on the plausible excuse I prepared. “So I’m here to see him in person.”
Janick’s lips thin almost imperceptibly, but he steps back from the doorway, allowing me and my men in without further questioning.
He leads us through the familiar halls into the massive dining room where Fabian is seated at the head of the table like a king at court, breakfast laid out in indulgent excess. He looks up as we enter and smiles warmly, as if this is a planned family brunch.
"Ah, my grieving nephew," he drawls, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. "I wanted to attend Afrim's funeral, truly. But I was too caught up with business matters. You know how it is."
I narrow my eyes at him, unamused as I take the seat across from him. Without a word, I pull the ledger from my jacket pocket and hand it to Janick, signaling for him to pass it to my uncle since the pretentious table is far too long for me to simply throw it at him.
Fabian raises a curious brow as he accepts the ledger from his man. “What is this?”
“Your secrets are out, Fabian. You fucking traitor," I say with dark satisfaction, voice hard as stone.
His brows pull together for a moment, then he chuckles like I made a joke. “Very funny, nephew. I’ll excuse you for calling my name in that disrespectful tone.” He opens the ledger casually, his eyes quickly scanning the first page, and the lingering smile on his face dies.
He flips through the rest of the pages, faster now, confirming what I’ve already read what feels like a hundred times, the color slowly draining from his face. "This proves nothing," he finally says, but his voice is tight with barely controlled panic.
"Is that or is that not your handwriting?"
He hesitates, gaze darting from me to the ledger to the men behind me and back again, and I can almost see the gears turning in his head. “It—it was forged!” he blurts, eyes lighting up with false triumph. “You think I’m stupid enough to write all this down?”
Predictable. And it won’t work on me. I smirk as I lean forward. “You did.”
He exhales sharply, scrambling to regain lost ground. “Even if I did... what exactly are you going to do about it? If you kill me, my men won’t let you leave here alive.”
“That ledger signed your death certificate, Fabian. It spells out in meticulous fucking detail how you made me and my sister orphans and almost destroyed my father’s empire. You’re genuinely stupid if you think I’ll walk out of here with you still breathing.”
“What the hell are you talking about? I had nothing to do with Afrim’s death!”
The fact that he’s not even trying to deny his involvement in my mother’s death makes my blood boil and my hands fist on the table.
“Maybe not directly. But discovering everything you’d done—and were still planning—must have been too much for his weak heart.
The betrayal triggered the heart attack that killed him. ”
“A–Afrim was the one who found the ledger?” He goes even paler and grips the edge of the dining table like he might fall out of his chair.
“I thought that information might make you happy,” I say coldly. “Something to comfort you before I kill you.” But it seems to be having the opposite effect. Interesting.
He glares at me with sudden viciousness and quickly moves his hands under the table, retrieving the gun I know he always keeps stashed there. He raises it up at me, “I’m not going out without a fight. You and your men are going to die tonight, either by my hand or my men’s.”
At that moment, the dining room door opens and Gjon walks in, flanked on both sides by leaders of the other five Albanian families. Three of them head local operations, and the other two answer to no one but their own bloodlines. All of them have one thing in common—they’re done with Fabian.
I couldn’t have timed their entrance better if I’d tried.
"How many powerful leaders do you think you and your handful of men can kill?” Gjon asks calmly, his voice carrying easily through the silent room.
“Your betrayal has consequences, Fabian. And you can’t kill us all.
If you try, your men will die right alongside you.
That would mark them as traitors to the Albanian family too.
It’d be a suicide mission for everyone.” He pauses for emphasis.
“This doesn’t have to get messy, Fabian. Stand down.”
Fabian’s head whips around frantically, like he’s desperately trying to find someone still on his side. But the guards stationed at the door are already lowering their weapons, Janick stepping away from his side.
No one is coming to save him.
He goes impossibly paler as realization dawns, and the hand holding the gun begins to tremble as his gaze lands on me. "Come on, Roan. It's me,” he pleads, his voice breaking. “Uncle Fabian. Family."
I don’t feel a single thing for him as I rise to my feet, pulling my gun from its holster and leveling it at his chest. “I know exactly who you are.”
He stiffens, sweat beading on his forehead. “You would kill your own family?” he asks, his panicked eyes bouncing around the room.
I click my tongue as I shake my head at him.
“You’re no family to me, Fabian. You forfeited that right.
Not only were you involved in my mother’s death, you’ve been chomping at my empire’s heels—not just in the past decade, but especially these past few months—trying to sabotage my progress—” I pause when he blanches.
Oh yeah, he didn’t realize I was onto his recent activities too.
I move away from the dining table, taking a purposeful step towards him as I continue, “Your betrayal sent my father to an early grave. So yes, I will kill you."
“Not before I kill you!” he screams, squeezing the trigger of the gun aimed at my chest, but it answers with nothing more than a hollow click. His eyes widen as he stares down at the weapon like it just betrayed him.
“Did you really think I wasn’t aware of the gun you always keep there? I spent entire summers here growing up, remember?” I shake my head in disappointment. “Come on, you taught me better than that.”
“R–Roan, please, I—”
I pull the trigger, done with this interlude.