Chapter Twenty-Seven Burn for Her
Victor was still alive.
Augustus’s bullet had entered his chest just below the collarbone, missing his heart by a fraction of an inch.
Lucien’s tactical team moved in, stripping the gun from Augustus’s hand and forcing the old patriarch against the cold hangar wall.
Federal paramedics swarmed the floor, their boots crunching on broken glass as they rushed toward Aria and Evelyn.
Damien dropped to his knees beside Aria, refusing to let the medical team touch her until she reached up with her good hand and touched his face.
“I’m alive, Damien,” she whispered.
His eyes were wide, dark, and wild with terror. Blood soaked through the shoulder of her shirt, staining his fingers as he pressed thick gauze against the wound. “You took a bullet for me. You were shot.”
“So was Victor.”
“I do not care if Victor lives or dies,” Damien choked out, his voice cracking with an emotion he could no longer conceal.
“I know,” Aria said softly.
Across the cavernous hangar, Augustus looked down at them, letting out a dry, rasping laugh as federal agents snapped steel cuffs over his wrists. “Look at you, Damien. The grand heir of Blackthorne Global, brought low and begging on his knees because of a woman.”
Damien’s head snapped toward his grandfather. The murderous rage flared back into his eyes, his muscles coiling to strike.
Aria caught his wrist, her grip surprisingly firm. “Stay with me, Damien. Stay.”
He stayed.
At St. Jude’s Memorial, the bullet was successfully extracted from Aria’s shoulder during a two-hour emergency procedure. Dr. Patel confirmed that the baby was completely unharmed—the pregnancy remained stable and viable.
Evelyn was admitted to intensive care, where the primary reversal agent cleared the toxins from her system, stabilizing her cardiac rhythm within hours. Victor survived his emergency surgery, waking up in an adjacent wing under heavy federal guard.
Augustus’s shot had ensured Victor could not flee on his jet, but Aria knew the truth: the old man hadn’t fired to stop him. He had fired to silence his own son before Victor could strike a plea deal with prosecutors.
Two days later, still wearing her arm sling, Aria walked into the federal detention center to visit Augustus. Hidden beneath the collar of her jacket was a high-grade digital wiretap authorized by the special prosecutor.
“Victor told the grand jury that you directly ordered my father’s murder,” Aria said, sitting across from him behind the reinforced glass.
Augustus smiled faintly, entirely unbothered. “Victor arranged the logistics. He was always reckless.”
“Because you told him to retrieve Elias’s ledger by any means necessary.”
“Elias made his own tragic choice,” Augustus answered coldly.
“His choice was to expose systemic murder, money laundering, and illegal arms trafficking!”
“His choice was to threaten my legacy.” Augustus leaned close to the glass, his pale eyes burning with ancient spite. “I preserved what four generations built. Damien would have done the exact same thing years ago—before you weakened him.”
“You poisoned his mother, didn’t you?” Aria asked, her voice steady.
“She threatened to take her story to the press. She was an unmanageable liability.”
The confession came easily, completely devoid of remorse.
“And my mother?” Aria pressed, her fingers digging into the fabric of her coat beneath the counter.
“A controlled micro-dose,” Augustus replied smoothly. “She was never intended to die—unless you proved uncooperative with the trust transfer.”
Aria’s nails cut into her palms. “You engineered the entire federal fraud case against me.”
“I gave my grandson one final test to choose the family empire over a contract bride. He failed.”
“No,” Aria said, looking the monster in his eyes without flinching. “Damien passed the only test that mattered.”
Augustus let out a bitter laugh. “You truly believe he chose love? A Blackthorne does not love, Aria. He simply claimed a new possession.”
Aria stood up, pressing the hidden recorder button on her cuff to save the audio file.
“Then you will have the rest of your life in federal prison to watch him prove you wrong.”
The heavy iron door swung open, and four federal marshals entered the room, holding an arrest warrant freshly signed by the federal magistrate.
Augustus’s cold, triumphant smile vanished instantly.