Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty- Eight
Thiago
Everything is a blur; I’m not sure what to do with all the emotions kept locked inside me.
I force out a smile, which feels more like glass, thin and brittle and ready to shatter if anyone looks too close.
The music becomes background noise the deeper I walk into the club.
Bass hums through the floorboards, laughter ricochets off the walls, and I stand in the middle of it all, pretending to be celebrating, like this life is some kind of achievement.
After the service, all of the men headed back to Velarium.
Another performance, playing the perfect heir I was raised to be. Celebrating my engagement to Fabiola. My acceptance of my legacy. My promise to ‘honor my father’s footsteps.’ Another defining moment in a young man's life. All lies wrapped in a perfect bow. I drink to that.
Peter pours me another drink, unbuttoning his blazer. “To a new era,” he says, voice smooth as silk over a blade.
I nod and raise the glass. “To the future,” I answer, though the words taste more like poison. He leans back, studying me. Waiting to see the crack. I give him nothing but the buzz from the alcohol flooding my system. My jaw tightens. And for a moment, neither of us speaks.
Peter clears his throat and rolls his neck. His voice comes out mechanically. “He’s been asking questions.”
My brows furrow. “Who?”
A smirk spreads through his lips, his head playfully tilting to the side.
He’s amused by the looks of it, and it freaks me the fuck out.
The hair on my arms raises when he answers.
“Sledge, that’s why I had him fighting Zayden.
Turns out that Greyson boy is more troublesome than we originally thought. ”
Greyson.
Of course it had to be him. And by the way the asshole’s grin widens, I know that whatever game he’s playing, Zayden is already in it.
I don’t respond, only let the words hang between us, just like he intended them too.
My gaze drops to the amber liquid in my glass and realize the celebration isn’t for me—it’s for the trap already closing.
Peter downs his drink, proceeding to let out a guttural growl, amping himself up for his grand reveal.
“Out, everyone but Thiago!” he commands. There’s no push back; everyone just leaves. And when the door closes, Peter clasps his fingers together and takes a deep breath in. “Now that we are alone, it’s time for you to pay up on that deal.”
I shrug. “Whatever you need.”
He closes his eyes, savouring my words with a click of his tongue. There’s a soft knock at the back door, and I know it’s a petal that waits behind it. Waiting to please her master in any way she can.
“Hope you don’t mind,” he teases, clapping once.
The door opens.
She steps in, slow and deliberate. Olive dress clinging to her curves, hair pulled back tight.
For a moment, I forget how to breathe. The air leaves my lungs, and the room tilts.
I blink hard, swallow the burn of whiskey, and tell myself I’m hallucinating.
Because there’s no way that’s Nico’s sister.
But it is, I recognize those eyes anywhere, because they are the same as his.
Fernanda is alive, all while Nico grieves for her.
I know that’s why he’s here, trying to get revenge, only to realize how low on the food chain he falls.
He thinks I didn’t know, but we all did.
The club runs a background check on everyone who studies or works at Villalargos, which is why I was made his handler and why Zayden and Nico received their scholarships.
I don’t know the full extent of it, but I know my dad helped cover it up before Peter was sent away.
Peter’s hand slides to her shoulder, possessive and rehearsed.
What’s more sickening is the way she melts into him when he leans in to kiss her cheek like she’s a trophy he’s polishing for display.
His gaze lifts to mine, amusement dancing within his eyes.
I can’t speak.
My throat locks around the truth. Mouth dry, stomach sour, and the alcohol threatening to crawl back up.
Peter wraps a strand of her ponytail around his knuckles when she kneels, practically purring when he begins to pull out his cock.
The urge to look away is hard to fight off.
But I remain firm, not letting any of it affect me, now more than ever.
Peter smirks. “She’s proof that loyalty isn't always to those with whom we share blood.” He gazes at her with this false admiration, stroking her cheek. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” Her response is a low moan around his cock. I think I’m gonna be sick.
A frown forms on my face, not sure where he’s going with all of this. “I’m lost. What does any of this have to do with the deal?”
“Everything,” he bites out, voice rough with triumph as he holds her head down, eyes fixed on me as he fucks her throat with a force that has everything in the desk shaking. “Everything.”
I look away when I realize he’s not stopping until he’s spilling down her throat, and I’m barely holding on.
“Sledge,” he begins, “wasn’t just another fight.
Or some bookie. He is the son of one of the old heads, who fell in love and tried to get out.
” Peter moans, the sound of his cock sliding out of her mouth fills the air, and all I can do is shift where I stand, waiting for him to continue.
“His father is dead, and he’s asking questions he shouldn’t. Plus, he has claims to Costa Mar.”
I stay silent, watching the way his facial features are relaxed, it is like the lights are on, but no one is there, even as she works him eagerly.
“Here is where Greyson becomes bothersome—he’s working with Sledge and has been seeing Zayden behind your back.
My guess is that he wants to use him to expose us, but that’s something I can fix. ”
My pulse spikes. “Fix how?”
Peter bites down on his lip, thrusting his hips forward. Fernanda gags, and he responds through gritted teeth, “Simple. Cut the thread before it unravels. Kill Nico, and I’ll tell you where Zayden is being held.”
My hands ball into fists. “What?”
“Ah, yes… I had Elijah trailing Zayden all this time. Eager boy, that one. He’s been waiting for the right moment to prove himself,” Peter answers, his voice smooth as whiskey. “You think I trusted you to handle Nico or Zayden. Please don’t make me laugh.”
The room feels smaller, and the air feels like lava scorching its way through my lungs.
Every word he says lands like a blade, inching deeper by the second.
Peter continues, tone almost conversational.
“You kill Nico, you solve a lot of my problems including the blonde fixed to be my wife. And you get your lover boy, all yours, nothing in the way.”
He pauses, letting the silence stretch, dangling Zayden like a carrot in front of me, until it’s unbearable. “Join me, Thiago. There’s nowhere to go. You are either with me or against me.”
I stare at him, feeling pressure build behind my eyes, the weight pressing down like a hand around my throat.
Zayden.
Nico.
Shiloh.
June. Fernanda.
All pieces on his board.
My fists clench until my knuckles ache. “Where?”
Peter grins, a guttural groan escaping his lips as he comes onto her waiting tongue.
I look away, unable to tolerate the sight, fighting the urge to spill the contents of my stomach onto the floor.
Only for the door to creak open, and Elijah steps inside, meeting my gaze with a grin that’s too eager. “Nico’s in place.”
Peter claps once, the sound echoing through the room like a whistle at kickoff. “Perfect.”
And just like that, the game begins.
Zayden
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
The sound drags me out of the darkness. I blink, coming back to myself.
There's an ache behind my eyes, a deep and pulsing throb that makes the whole room tilt.
I groan, trying to piece together what the fuck happened.
And where the hell am I? The smell of pine and dirt has me scanning the room—I can still hear the ocean?
So maybe the forest… but which one and why? Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Rain hits the window in heavy drops, echoing through the small room.
Tempting my thirst, steady and maddening.
I swallow, trying to bring moisture to my dry mouth, but it doesn't work.
The last thing I remember is meeting with Greyson, my eyes widened, as the scattered bits of memories began to slowly piece themselves together.
Greyson inches closer. “I’m afraid that I might be next,” he says almost timidly as if he’s ashamed to voice aloud that he’s scared to die. Aren’t most of us… “I need your help, Zayden.”
My help…
I’m kind of tired of people always needing my ‘help.’ I arch a brow, a silent warning that he’s too close.
Greyson only smiles, his hand moving to the side of my neck, and I freeze.
Not knowing whether to perform like I’m expected to or punch him straight in the dick for touching me.
A sharp sting has my hand flying to the spot.
Hot lava moves through my bloodstream, scorching everything in its path. I blink once. Twice.
My hand clamps on the spot, eyes widening and watching him step back with a devilish grin on his face. The moon casts a shadow on his beautiful features, making him look like some kind of angel of vengeance. My knees wobble beneath me, and just like the London Bridge…
I fall down.
Hard. Face first. The world tilts on its axis, and I try to lift my head, but it feels like it weighs a hundred pounds.
Loud booming claps echo through my mind, each one thunderous, shaking everything beneath me.
The room spins and black licks at the corners of my eyes, and before I can fight it, the darkness swallows me whole.
“GREYSON!” I shout, coming out of the memory, and all I feel is rage. “GREYSON!”
My throat burns from all the screaming, but I don’t care.
Footsteps move above me, which tells me I’m in a fucking basement.
I can’t help the laugh that escapes me; it’s always a fucking basement.
And given the deep tissue ache in my shoulders and my lack of ability to move my arms, I’m bound.
Looking down at the chair… I chuckle even harder.
“GREYSON!”
The echo of my own voice ricochets off the walls, swallowed by the damp air.
I listen—nothing but the steady tapping as the rain continues to fall.
A door creaks open above me, spilling a sliver of light into the room.
I brace myself, holding my chin up and squaring my shoulders.
The ceiling groans as someone descends the stairs.
There’s one. Then two sets of footsteps, both heavy and slow.
I shift my body and pull on my arms, straining against the ropes—only to come to a full stop when I notice who stands in front of me.
Christopher Loni appears first, polished like a blob of shit painted in gold.
Wearing a light blue suit, tailored to fit his lean figure, white lines run down the fabric—always dressed to impress.
Fucking rich pricks! Finally stepping around him, it’s Greyson, who looks like he’s not interested in any of this, so why am I here?
My question is answered when Christopher crouches before me, elbows resting on each of his knees, smart enough to leave a gap between us.
His expression is unreadable. And then he speaks. “I know you know who killed Asher.”
I bite back the urge to spit at him, plus my throat burns too much anyway. He continues after a deep exhale. “Soon, you won’t have a choice if you want to save them.”
With that, he smiles and rises to his feet. Towering over me, he hacks up his lungs and spits. The hot and thick glob of saliva slides down my forehead and into my brow before settling in my eye, blurring his smug face into a smear of blue.
Greyson looks away, his jaw clenched tight, and I wonder why he looks upset… I shake away the thought, along with a good portion of the spit.
“What did you mean by that?” The question rolls from the tip of my tongue, and his thin lips stretch into a Cheshire grin, his gaze moving to the watch on his wrist before the sound of tires crunching gravel and dirt has our heads turning.
“Looks like you’re about to find out.”