16. 16 Nico
16: Nico
I slam my fist into the wall, the crack of plaster splitting under the pressure of my rage. My hand stings, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters, except the fact that she’s gone.
She’s gone.
The words keep repeating in my head like a fucking mantra. Tori. I should’ve seen this coming, but I didn’t. I underestimated their power and overestimated Diablo’s.
Tori was supposed to be mine. Not just for the leverage or the power she brought me with her ties to Diablo, but for the way she pulled something out of me that I didn’t know existed. She made me want her . And now she’s gone. I’ll fix this, but it doesn’t change the fact that I failed.
The house feels too fucking quiet. Too empty. I shouldn’t be feeling this way. But I’m still standing here, staring at the hole in the wall, feeling every ounce of my control slipping away. I’m not supposed to want her. I know I’m not. But she's slithered her way in and now I can’t stop wanting.
I’ve been in control my whole life. Everything I’ve ever wanted—every deal, every person I’ve manipulated—has been on my terms. But she… she was different. I didn’t count on how much she’d change things, how much she’d crawl under my skin. It was supposed to be business. It was supposed to be about power. Not about her.
Fuck.
I breathe in deep, trying to calm the storm inside me, but it’s pointless. I’m drowning in my own frustration. The longer I stand here, the more I can feel it creeping in—this need to have her back. Not for the power, not for the leverage. But for me.
I don’t like that. I don’t like the idea of being this twisted. But it’s true.
I exhale sharply and pull my hand back from the wall, the crack still glaring at me. My jaw tightens, the anger building again. I need to focus. I can’t afford to lose it.
Focus .
I storm through the empty halls of the house beside the asylum. I need to find a way to get her back, to fix this. I drag my hand over my face, the exhaustion starting to settle in, but I can’t afford it. Not yet. There’s too much to do, too many pieces to move. The sooner I get her back, the sooner I’ll feel in control again.
Then I can sleep.
I can’t be alone with this anymore. I need something to distract me. Something to take the edge off. Alicia’s still here. She hasn’t left. That has to count for something.
I step out of the house, striding across the lawn toward the asylum toward Alicia’s room. When I get there, I open the door without knocking. I don’t need permission. She’s always ready for me.
She’s sitting on the bed, her eyes flicking to me the moment I enter. Her expression softens, but there’s something off. A hesitation in the way she watches me. I don’t have time for hesitation. Not tonight. Not after everything that’s gone down.
“Get up,” I say, my voice rough, more forceful than I intended. I step toward her, my presence large in the room.
She stands from the bed without protest. Alicia’s been obedient, willing to submit since I swore I’d save her friend. Her eyes meet mine as I approach, and there’s a flicker of uncertainty there. But she doesn’t pull away.
I step closer, the need to have something—anything—at this point is almost overwhelming. I move to kiss her, my lips finding hers with more urgency than I expected. Her lips are soft under mine, but she doesn’t kiss me back the way I need.
Something is off.
I pull back, holding her gaze. Her breath catches, her lips parting slightly as if she’s unsure of what to say next. That hesitation isn’t normal. She’s always been responsive before. But tonight? Tonight, she’s holding back. There’s something else. Something more.
“What’s wrong, Alicia?” I ask, my voice still dark but edged with curiosity. I need to know what’s going on in her head. Why the hesitation? Why the distance?
She shifts uncomfortably, looking away for just a second. But I catch it. The flicker of doubt in her eyes.
“Tori... she came to get me,” Alicia says, her voice hesitant, unsure. She pauses before continuing, her eyes refusing to meet my own. "She told me... she said you were lying to me. About Bren."
Tori has done nothing the way I thought she would.
Here's yet another problem for me to fix.
I force myself to stay calm, even though the urge to snap is so strong I can almost taste it. My hand tugs at her hair just enough to force her to look up at me. She needs to understand where her loyalties should lie.
"What did she tell you?" My voice is low, cold—controlled. I need her to hear me clearly, to feel my presence. I can’t let her think for a second that she’s being misled, especially because she is.
Alicia hesitates. Her fingers twitch, and I can see her mind racing. She doesn’t know who to believe yet. But I’ll make sure it’s me.
"She said you killed Bren," Alicia murmurs, barely above a whisper. Her eyes shift toward me, but there’s a flash of doubt there, something that stings. "That you did it because of money. That you’re the one who killed him. Not the Triad.”
I should never have told Tori he was dead.
When Alicia showed up at my door looking for Bren, I knew I’d just received a gift. She was a means to an end, a piece I could use against Tori. So of course, I needed her on my side. Had to lie to her from the moment I met her. It would be hard to get her to comply if she knew it was really me who killed her beloved friend.
She hardly knows Bren’s dark truth. The way he sold his dates to me just to pay back what he owed. The way he came to me in desperate need but unable to meet his end of the deal. Alicia—she doesn’t know that part of him. Doesn’t know how deep his debts ran, how he used her.
Thankfully, I saw this coming one day, and I have just the thing to convince her it's me who's telling the truth.
My eyes never leave hers as I let her go. Her expression is conflicted, the doubt still flickering in her gaze. She’s unsure of what to believe.
“That’s a lie,” I say, meeting her gaze. “Tori’s trying to turn you against me. She’s trying to make you believe I’m the enemy.”
Alicia doesn’t respond immediately, but she’s listening. She’s waiting for me to explain. She needs me to explain. She needs what I’m telling her to be true, and so she’ll believe it, because she herself needs to. Otherwise, everything she’s done has been for nothing.
I reach out, gently taking her chin in my hand, forcing her to look at me. “You don’t believe that, do you?” I ask, my voice softening just a little, but the edge is still there. “You know who killed him. It wasn’t me, Alicia. It was the Iron Triad. They killed him.”
She may still doubt me, but she doesn’t pull away.
“You know Bren,” I continue, my voice low, steady. “You know what he was like. He was weak. He owed money. The Triad... they don’t take kindly to people who can’t pay their debts. So they killed him. They made an example out of him.”
I can see her processing the words as I reiterate the story I told her before. I see the conflict, the way her mind is racing, trying to make sense of everything she’s been told. Tori’s lies versus my truth. And my truth is the one that matters. It has to be.
“Alicia,” I murmur, my voice low and coaxing. “You know I’m the one who’s kept you safe from them. Not Tori. I’m the one who's trying to save Tori and you. You know that.”
She doesn’t say anything for a moment, her lips pressed tightly together, but I can feel her wavering. She’s almost there. Almost.
I turn away, grabbing my phone from my pocket, the one I’ve been saving for just this moment. I swipe through the screen, pulling up the video. The footage of Bren, begging for his life through the security camera in an alley. It’s distant, grainy, old footage, but I’ve altered it just enough to make it work. I’ve changed the part where he calls out for Ryder, not me. I know it’ll be enough to push Alicia to see the truth.
I hit play, and the video flickers to life, showing Bren kneeling on the floor, bruised and bloodied, begging for mercy. But it’s the words he says next that matter.
“Ryder… please, Ryder, don’t…”
I let the video play through, watching Alicia’s face closely. Her eyes widen as she hears Bren’s plea. Her hands cover her mouth in shock as she stares at the screen a moment longer.
I step closer again, letting the silence hang between us. “Did you hear it?” I ask softly, my voice steady, dark. “It wasn’t me, Alicia. It was Ryder. He killed Bren.”
Alicia’s gaze flickers between the screen and me. The anger is starting to rise in her. I can see it in the way her jaw tightens, the way her shoulders stiffen. She’s starting to believe me. She’s starting to understand.
“Ryder... he’s the one?” she asks, her voice quiet, almost a whisper.
I nod slowly, watching her reaction. “Yes. He did. Tori lied to you, Alicia. She just wanted you away from me. You see it now, don’t you?”
“God. I can't believe this. Of course she would protect them all.” To my delight, Alicia's anger boils over more than I expected. Her expression shifts, the doubt evaporating as my truth sinks in. I know she’s finally made her decision. She’s with me.
“You see now, Alicia. I'm the one you should trust. Are you still with me?” I ask, my voice soft but firm.
“I’m with you,” she says, quiet but resolute.
I nod, a small, satisfied smile tugging at the corner of my lips. She’s mine again.
“We’ll deal with the Iron Triad,” I say, my voice calm now. “And when I’m finished with them, nothing’s going to stand in our way.”
Alicia nods, a faint smile on her lips, the doubts gone. She’s back under my control. And now, with her by my side, I’ll take back what’s mine.
Tori.
Another meeting with Diablo under these circumstances wasn’t in the plan. A few hours ago, I’d been envisioning walking into his estate with Tori at my side, asserting my dominance and cementing our position. Instead, here I am, playing the victim—forcing Diablo to believe that the Iron Triad has stolen my wife. The man doesn’t need another reason to think less of me.
And that’s the worst part of it all: the vulnerability. It’s fucking repulsive. To stand before Diablo, the one man I’ve been trying to manipulate, and now I’m asking for his help. It makes my skin crawl.
I had Tori. I was supposed to have her, to bend her to my will—now, I’ve lost her. And I don’t know if I’m angrier about the fact that she slipped through my fingers or that I’ve actually come to care for her more than I ever should have. She’s a weakness. A disruption in my perfectly crafted plan, and it’s eating away at me.
Diablo doesn’t say anything at first, just watches me with that calculating gaze, his eyes narrowed. He’s letting me stew in my own frustration, knowing full well how much I fucking hate this. And I hate it. Every second of it.
“She’s your wife,” Diablo says, his voice measured but biting. It’s cool on the surface, but there’s something underneath it. His anger is like a quiet storm, building but barely visible to the untrained eye. “You’re telling me you can’t keep your wife safe?”
I clench my fists at my sides. He knows exactly how to get under my skin, and right now, my skin’s thin. I grind my teeth together, trying to keep my anger in check, needing to keep it under control, keep it together, even though everything inside of me is screaming to rip something apart.
“They seemed to have the lay of the land,” I mutter, having my suspicions that initially Diablo had helped them. “You didn’t make them leave as you said they would. Now look what's happened.”
Diablo arches a brow, his gaze hardening, the scar across his face becoming more pronounced as he leans in, pressing me with that razor-sharp focus of his. I can feel the weight of his words before they even leave his mouth. “They’re three guys with a ragtag team,” he says, his tone dismissive. “You’re telling me your people couldn’t handle a small group like that?”
I bite back a sneer. I can’t show him how much this is eating me up. “A ragtag team with the right intel,” I say through clenched teeth. I move closer, the tension now obvious between us. The anger’s simmering just beneath the surface, and I can feel it radiating off him. “That ragtag team is more than expected, especially in the middle of the night with a layout of the place. Whoever gave them that information did a damn good job. Someone from the inside.” I throw the last words out like a challenge, letting them hang in the air. It’s clear to both of us who I’m implying.
The silence that follows is heavy, thick, the kind that fills the air like smoke. He sits back in his chair, the faintest tinge of realization crossing his face. But it’s only for a moment before he schools his expression again.
“Either way,” Diablo mutters, his voice darkening, “you failed to keep my daughter safe. And now, who knows what those people are doing to her.”
I close my eyes for a moment, taking a breath, trying to control the rising tide of emotions. “That’s why I’m here,” I say, my voice steady despite the tremor of anger running through me. “I need her back, Diablo. And I need to make sure she doesn’t get hurt in the process. This is a delicate situation. One I know you’ve navigated before.”
Diablo leans back in his chair, his eyes still on me, his fingers steepled in front of his face. He’s thinking, calculating. His silence is suffocating, but I know it’s the calm before the storm.
“I’ll help,” he says finally, his voice low, deliberate. “But know this, Nico. Any more failures in protecting her, and she becomes a widow. I will not have a sorry excuse for a man as a son-in-law.”
It’s not a threat—it’s a promise. He’s making it clear that if I fuck this up again, I’m done. It’s a sharp reminder that the stakes are high. I don’t react at first. I can’t. His words burn, but I can’t afford to let them show. This is the deal. This is the cost of his help.
“I understand,” I say quietly.
He nods, leaning forward now, his gaze sharp. “I’ll have my men find out where they’re hiding. They won’t stay in one place forever.”
I nod. “Good. I need her back, and I need them gone. No more chances. I'm killing them this time.”
We talk business for a little longer, and I take the time to soak in every word, every gesture. I can’t afford to miss anything. Diablo’s involvement is crucial now, and I need to make sure this goes according to plan. There’s too much at stake, too much hanging in the balance.
“Get the car,” I order Marcus as the conversation dies down. I’m still pissed at him for getting into a bar fight and losing. He’s making me look bad. He looks like he’s been chewed up and spit out. It doesn’t help that he’s been off since he got back this morning. I’m sure it’s because he wasn’t there when things went down and he feels guilty about it, but something feels off. Either way, I don’t have time to deal with him, I’ve got more pressing matters to focus on.
We leave the meeting, and the ride back is silent as I think about Tori. Back at the house, the quiet feels suffocating. It’s not the same without her snarky comments and fighting spirit. I head toward the bedroom, my mind still racing with thoughts of her. But before I reach the door, Marcus calls after me.
“Sir.” His voice is soft, almost hesitant.
“What is it?” I snap, not bothering to mask the irritation in my tone.
“I’ve been told an unmarked package arrived at the gate an hour ago.”
I freeze. “And?”
“It's a finger.”
The world goes cold for a second.
“Whose?”
“Not sure, sir.”
Fucking hell. I’ve had enough of this shit. “Bring it to me,” I growl. “Let’s find out.”
Marcus hurries off and I stand there, trying to control the rage building in me. This... this isn’t just a warning. It’s a message. Whoever sent it, they’re making their move. And I won’t let them get away with it… they’ll regret the day they decided to fuck with me.
When Marcus returns, he’s holding a white box, his face pale. He looks at me but doesn’t speak, just opens it.
The severed finger sits there, a single digit with a tattoo on it. Raul’s tattoo.
“Fuck. It’s Raul’s,” I mutter, my stomach churning. How did this happen? Who did this? “How could you not tell this is Raul’s?”
Marcus looks uneasy, and I can see the grief in his eyes. “I’m not sure, sir. I guess I just didn’t want it to be.”
I need answers. I need to know who’s behind this, who’s fucking with me. It’s either Diablo, the Triad, or someone else I’ve pissed off. But it won’t matter for long. I’ll get my hands on whoever did this. I’ll burn them down, just like I’ll burn down anyone who touches what’s mine.
"When did you last see Raul?" I ask, my tone sharper than I intended. I need a clear timeline, something to connect the dots and figure out who the hell has him.
“Before I left,” he says, his eyes glued on the finger inside of red silk. As if sending me this finger should be elegant.
“What time?” I snap, frustration creeping into my voice despite myself.
“I’m not sure, probably five.”
I swallow, coming to the worst conclusion. The Iron Triad. They must have taken him when they took Tori.
The walls are closing in. I can feel it. I’ve been trying to stay two steps ahead of everyone, controlling the situation, but now? Now, things are spiraling. It’s like every action I take is just putting me deeper into a hole.
I drag my hand down my face in frustration, trying to force my thoughts into some kind of order. My brain is stretched too thin, too many things piling up at once. “I think I know who has him,” I mutter under my breath, the words tasting like ash. “The Iron Triad is going to pay.”
Marcus shifts from where he's standing, and for a split second, I think I see him recoil. It’s so brief that I’m sure I imagined it. I shake the thought and focus on planning.
The Triad won’t know what hit them. Those three bastards are going to regret every second of this. This isn’t just about getting Tori back anymore. This is about making sure no one ever dares to fuck with me again. I’ll take everything they have, and when I’m done, they’ll know what it means to cross someone like me.
They’ll regret this.