Chapter Thirty-Two
Drew
Boston
The gym smelled like rubber mats, metal, and industrial cleansers. Mid-morning on a Tuesday meant it was quiet: only the serious ones showed up this early, the ones who treated lifting like meditation instead of Instagram content.
Otto was already on the bench when I walked in, unracking the bar with the focus of a man who’d been doing this since we were nineteen and still thought we could out-bench our college PRs. He spotted me coming and grinned, his teeth white against the black of his beard.
“You’re late,” he said, lowering the bar slow and controlled. “Thought maybe you finally got a life.”
I dropped my bag by the rack. “I’ve been busy.”
“Busy,” he echoed, racking the bar with a clang. “That’s what people say when they’re getting laid and don’t want to admit it.”
I snorted, stripping off my hoodie. “Spot me.”
He swung his legs over and stood behind the bar while I slid underneath. We didn’t talk much during the set. Otto knew the rhythm: count the reps, steady hands, no bullshit encouragement. When I hit eight and racked it, he stepped back and crossed his arms.
“New personal record?” he asked.
“Same as last time,” I said, sitting up, my chest still burning. “Just felt heavier.”
“Probably because you’re distracted.” He tilted his head. “Saw Lauren last week at the Harbor Club. She still asks about you. Said you ghosted her after three dates.”
I wiped my face with the bottom of my shirt. “I didn’t ghost. I was clear. I wasn’t looking for anything serious.”
Otto raised a brow. “And now?”
I met his eyes. “Now I’m seeing someone.”
He didn’t blink. He just nodded once, like he’d been waiting for it. “Good. About time. Who?”
I hesitated, only for a second. Then I said her name. “Bella Holliston.”
Otto let out a low whistle, but it wasn’t shock. It was more like mild surprise mixed with amusement. “Holliston. As in Gabe Holliston’s daughter? The one your dad has issues with?”
I laughed despite myself. “You could say that.”
He shrugged, grabbing his water bottle. “Family drama. Everyone’s got some. My cousin married a girl whose uncle once sued my dad over a property line. They still sit at the same Thanksgiving table. Life goes on.”
I stared at him. “You’re not even a little surprised?”
“Why would I be?” He took a swig, then wiped his mouth.
“I don’t know her, but my buddy Marcus lusted after her friend Sloane for a while.
Never did land her, but he said Bella’s sharp as hell—runs that company like it’s a chess game she’s already won.
But more importantly, he said she’s good people.
Loyal. Doesn’t play games. One thing for sure, she’s not after your money. ”
I hadn’t considered that last part, but it was definitely a perk. “She’s not.”
Otto grinned. “Then she’s already better than most of the women you’ve dated. When do I get to meet her?”
“Soon,” I said. “She’s . . . busy. We’re taking it slow.”
“Slow,” he repeated, smirking. “Right. That why you’ve been staring at your phone like it owes you money?”
I shot him a look. “Shut up and load the bar.”
He laughed and started adding plates. “Happy for you, man. Just don’t fuck it up.”
I lay back under the bar, hands finding the grip. “Not planning on it.”
As I pushed through the next set, my mind drifted.
I didn’t think of the weight, or my father, or even the office waiting for me later.
My thoughts drifted to Bella. I thought of the way she’d smiled last night, dazed and unguarded, leaning against her door like she couldn’t quite believe the night had happened.
I wanted to text her right now. Just to see if she was smiling too.
But I waited. I let the bar rise and fall. I let Otto count the reps.
Some things were worth being patient for.
Later that day, I was back at my office when my assistant knocked and poked her head in. “Mr. Burke?” She looked composed, but there was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. “You have a visitor. She doesn’t have an appointment.”
My smile vanished. “Who?”
“Alethea Stone.”
The name hit like ice water. Alethea didn’t do “unscheduled.” She was chaos contained in a perfectly tailored suit, dangerous because she was competent, and terrifying because she only appeared when the world was about to get worse.
“Send her in.”
The door opened, and Alethea walked in. She wore a long dark coat, her hair pulled back with lethal precision. She didn’t waste time on greetings. She sat in the chair across from my desk and leveled a flat, shark-like gaze at me.
“We have a problem.”
I leaned forward, my muscles coiling. “Nora?”
“No. Not Nora.”
“Brady?”
“It was Brady. They picked him because he was accessible. Because humiliating the youngest Holliston is the easiest way to slap Gabe’s face without ever touching him.”
My hands gripped the edge of my desk, my knuckles whitening. “Who?”
“Old money,” she said simply. “The kind that treats power as an inheritance rather than an achievement. The kind that hides behind legacies and boards, ruining lives with a phone call and never getting their hands dirty.”
She leaned in. “This wasn’t random hazing, Drew. It was a message. They wanted Gabe to feel the weight of their reach. But they didn’t get to finish the play because you, Bella, and your sister made it messy. You made it visible. And these people hate being seen.”
A chill slid down my spine. “So they’re shifting.”
Alethea held my gaze. “Bella.”
My body went cold, then white-hot. “What do you mean, Bella?”
“I mean they’re angry. They lost their first win, and people like this don’t walk away—they escalate. Brady was the warning. Bella is the consequence.”
I stood up. I couldn’t stay seated; the office suddenly felt like a cage. It was too bright and too quiet, with the glass walls pressing in. “How?”
“Side-on. They don’t fight with fists; they fight with reputations and ‘accidents’ that look like bad luck. They’ll isolate her. They’ll make her look unstable, compromised. And because she’s a Holliston—because she was raised in that world—she’ll assume her history with them protects her.”
I thought of The Beacon. The coin. The mirror maze. What were they capable of?
“The Beacon isn’t just a club,” Alethea said, her voice dropping into a register that made my hair stand up. “It’s a network. International. Relentless. You haven’t rubbed up against this kind of evil yet, Drew. They go low because they don’t believe rules apply to their bloodline.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t like people who think they were born to rule. I don’t like secret handshakes or the way they treat lives like chess pieces. So, before I do anything else, I need to know: Is Bella worth the fallout?”
I didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
Alethea’s mouth twitched with approval.
“Bella is my priority,” I continued, my voice low and vibrating with resolve. “I agree with you. I detest everything The Beacon represents. They think they’re invincible behind their mirrors.” I looked her dead in the eye. “They’re not.”
“Then tell me,” she said. “What’s the next move?”
I didn’t answer immediately. I didn’t want to start a war Bella didn’t even know she was in, but I knew I had to end it before it touched her. Then, a name circled my mind—a name that meant honor, power, and a very specific kind of debt. “What would Dominic do in this situation?” I asked quietly.
Alethea leaned back, a dangerous smirk finally touching her lips. “That is something you should ask him yourself. He owes you a favor, Drew. And there is nothing Dominic Corisi loves more than repaying a debt to someone who has the balls to ask for it.”
The air in the room changed. Dominic wasn’t there, but his shadow was.
Alethea stood smoothly and pulled her coat closed. “Think. And call me. But Drew?”
I met her gaze.
“Decide fast. These people don’t negotiate, and they don’t wait.”
Then she was gone.
I stood alone, staring at the closed door. Happiness had made me reckless. This situation didn’t call for my softer, Bella-smitten side. No, this was a job for a battering ram.
I needed to make something crystal clear to those who thought they could threaten Bella and not suffer a consequence.
So I reached for my phone.