41. Aiden
Aiden
It’s been two days since everything went sideways. This is the first time I’ve left Isabel, and I didn’t get much say about it. After what Drake pulled, everyone’s moving fast, trying to get ahead of the fallout before it spreads.
And by everyone, I mean the good guys, not the bad ones.
That’s how I ended up in Trent’s hospital room with Darius. Rico’s ledger on his lap, along with a stack of documents that will bury the Doyles, if handled correctly.
Trent’s heart attack, paired with Drake’s betrayal, left Soulcombe unprotected. That gave Darius exactly what he needed—an opening. When the people in charge are distracted, he strikes. Attacked from the inside and took control before anyone realized what’s happening.
I’m not the only Falcon Global operative planted in this family.
My life before the military gave me the kind of background that let me climb the ranks faster than the others.
That, combined with my skill set, kept suspicions low.
Trent was too greedy for power and money to question why someone like me joined the military in the first place.
Darius has balls of steel. No question. He sits there, eyes locked on Trent, not the least bit intimidated by a man who, if he wasn’t so damn weak, would kill every one of us without blinking an eye.
But power doesn’t mean much when your body won’t cooperate.
Even the captain of the most dangerous Irish family in London can’t fight genetics.
And I bet that’s what’s really eating at him, not just what he’s learned, but the fact he can’t do anything about it.
If he were strong enough, this would all go very differently.
Instead, he’s forced to sit there and take it.
“You can go to hell,” Trent tells him. “All of you.”
“Easy,” I step in as the monitor spikes. “Keep this up, you’ll have another heart attack. Is that what you want? To die here in this room, hooked up to these machines.”
“No.” Closing his eyes, he drags in a breath, forcing control. “How the hell am I supposed to stay calm when I’ve just learned three men I trusted are the filth.”
“We’re not fucking coppers,” Zander grumbles from his spot in the corner. “If we were you’d own us, wouldn’t you?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Trent’s jaw tightens. “You’re worse. Traitors. When Silas hears about this, he’ll mount all three of your heads on sticks.”
Trent’s threat falls short at the words of the fourth man standing by the door.
“Silas has his bigger problems right now. His new gallery was raided by Interpol after an anonymous email landed in the right inbox. I heard a very detailed inventory list was included.” Seth clears his throat. “He really should’ve secured that information better.”
“You three have one hell of a target on your backs. My men are loyal to the core.” Trent tries again.
It’s my turn to voice some points he’s overlooked.
“That’s where you made your first mistake. You should’ve killed Drake the second you suspected him, not let him stick around to whisper in your men’s ears.”
Drake fooled me, too, and I’m beyond pissed about it. But Trent suspected him and did nothing.
“Your men are divided. Their leader’s top guy was a traitor, working with the Russians.
Rumors spread like wildfire, and they’re running faster than the blood that bound them.
” I lean forward slightly, letting the words sink in.
“It’s over, Trent. Either listen to what Darius is offering…
or get comfortable with the idea of spending the rest of your life in a six by eight concrete cell. ”
Neither of us breaks eye contact. Trent can fool most, look like a cold, uncaring gangster who fears nothing, but not me.
I see it. The fear sitting just beneath the surface.
I recognize it from when he thought he was a goner in the chopper.
The moment he let his guard slip in front of Isabel and begged her to save him.
It’s not prison that scares him. It’s what comes with it. The loss of control, the inability to command, to rule. That’s what he can’t stand.
Trent turns to Darius, his scowl deepening. “I’m listening. Make it quick.”
“The Russians are already lining up to move in and take over. Neither of us wants that.” Darius makes a face, tasting his own words. “Rurik was a weak link. He acted without thinking. I can help you regain control. Get Interpol off Silas’s back… but you’ll owe me.”
“Owe you how?” The question comes out tight. Trent hates being in anyone’s debt.
“First, these three. Make it clear to the family that they aren’t traitors. However you need to spin it to allow them to walk away.”
He points at me. “Use Aiden. Say his relationship with the princess complicates things for everyone. That I brought you a deal you couldn’t refuse.
You’re the captain. You don’t have to justify your decisions.
” His tone drops, sharper now. “But the truth about her doesn’t leave this room. No exceptions. Even Silas. Understood.”
Darius didn’t wait around to learn the truth. He handled it himself. Making sure there was no room for doubt. The results came back quickly. Trent is Isabel’s biological father.
It wasn’t a surprise to anyone, not after Sofia’s letter.
“I agree. No one needs to know. She is and will always be a Reyes.” He glares at me. “If I take this deal, you’ll make damn sure nothing ever happens to her. If it does, I’ll come for you. No mercy.”
I nod. There’s no need to worry. I’d die to protect Isabel, and he damn well knows this.
Trent turns his attention to Seth and Zander, his scowl deepening, the disbelief still there beneath his anger. “You two disappear. Out of London. Better yet, leave England. Don’t come back. You do, and I hear about it, you’re done.”
Darius rolls his eyes. “Not a problem. We’ll blame Rurik and Drake for their deaths.”
“I can live with that.” Trent’s smirk returns. “Incompetence taken out by a traitor and a cunt Russian. Fitting.”
“Incompetent?” Zander snaps. “Who do you think—”
“Enough!” Darius interrupts him before he can say too much. “One more thing. You’re not going to like this, but that’s too damn bad.”
“I haven’t liked any of this,” Trent admits, motioning for him to continue.
“Soulcombe.”
Silence follows.
Trent’s expression hardens.
Darius doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t need to.
“It was getting old. Been thinking of selling it,” Trent lies, but I let it go. No point calling him out.
“Good. Then I’ll buy it.” Darius calls his bluff. “We’ll finalize it once you’re discharged. I’ve already taken care of relocating the women living there. Cort Theiss is also no longer your problem. He and his family are leaving London, starting over somewhere quieter.”
He continues, like he’s already decided. “Soulcombe will become a training facility for my new recruits. I’ve been looking for a location outside of Hermosa Islas. Might even put Aiden in charge of it. You’d be okay with that, right?”
“Anything else?” Trent’s voice sharpens as he tries to hit Darius where it hurts. “What else does the Duke of Falcon want? You plan on demanding I become your informant? Hand over what’s left of my soul?”
“You don’t have a soul,” Darius fires back. “And you’d make a shitty informant. But if I think of something else, I’ll let you know. Deal? Or do you want Interpol to keep digging?”
“Deal. Now get the hell out of here.” Trent’s eyes turn to me once more. “And Aiden, I’ll be watching. Don’t fuck up.”
“I won’t. And Isabel, when she comes by later, this…” I wave my hand around the room. “This never happened. She’s dealing with enough. I’ll tell her what matters. Understand?”
“Does the princess scare you?” He smirks. “Afraid she’ll yell at you for upsetting me in my condition?”
No need to deny it. “Abso-fucking-lutely. Get some rest. You look like shit. I’ll see you later this afternoon when she demands to visit.”
He chuckles but agrees to nothing.
I know what that means. It means I’ll be facing Isabel’s wrath and then have to come up with a creative way to get her to forgive me for upsetting him.
Lucky for me that I know a few methods of calming her down and forcing her to see reason.
We step into the hall, and Darius talks to Seth and Zander first. “Plane is waiting. You’re both heading to the States. New Orleans. Read the files. I’ll call later to discuss the details.”
They nod once and take off down the hall, exiting the back way, knowing better than to be seen.
Then he turns to me. “Now we deal with Rurik.”
“Lead the way.”
We take the stairs down a level and step onto the floor where he had the Russian moved. Security is tight. Which is why I’m surprised to find five men who aren’t ours standing outside his room.
My hand moves on instinct, weapon drawn before Darius can stop me.
They don’t blink. Just watch me with cold, dead eyes, daring me to make a move.
“Put that away.” Darius steps in front of me and shoulders his way through. “Now.”
I lower the gun, but keep it in my hand. “What’s going on?”
Looking bored, he pushes the door open and steps aside. “Not out here.”
I follow, knowing better than to question him now. I barely get a foot through the door when a hand clamps down on my arm.
“Gun. Away.” The Russian accent is heavy, the words broken. “Pakhan inside. No guns.”
“Pakhan?” I lift an eyebrow.
“Do it, Aiden,” Darius says without looking back. “Unless you’d rather wait out here.”
I slide the gun into its holster. The second it’s secured the arsehole I plan on knocking out later releases my arm, taking a step back.
It’s then I realize why all the fuss.
Viktor Del Markov is on the couch with a woman beside him. She doesn’t look pleased. When she spots us, she mutters several words in Russian under her breath.
“What was that?” I ask.
“I said you should not live for what you did,” she hisses. “You and that little cunt.”
“Enough, Katerina!” Viktor’s tone is sharp and noticeable. “You and Rurik have done enough. What’s done is done. I killed my son for less. Don’t assume I won’t do the same to you.”
That shuts her up. The anger stays, but she keeps it to herself.
Darius lowers himself into a chair, eyes shifting toward the bed. “So, what now?”
I follow his gaze. Rurik lies there, attached to more machines than a man should need to stay alive. They are keeping him that way, from what I’ve been told. If it were my call, we’d pull the plug. Unfortunately, no one’s asking me.
“He will be taken care of soon.” Viktor looks across the room at Rurik with disgust. “We are waiting for Darya to come. She’s requested closure.”
Katerina pushes to her feet and heads for the door. “I’m leaving.”
He doesn’t stop her. “Wait in the hall.”
The door shuts behind her, and Viktor shakes his head. “Forgive her. She was close to Rurik. Raised together.” His mood darkens. “That does not excuse what they’ve done. She’ll be dealt with.”
Darius doesn’t ask how. Neither do I. I’ve lived in this world long enough to know better than to want those details.
Reaching into his briefcase, he pulls out the ledger. Viktor’s name is in it, along with a few others from the Del Markov family. He won’t show him, just knowing we have it is enough.
“This ends now.” Darius’s voice, while not loud, has a commanding presence. “Leave and don’t come back. This is just a drop in the bucket of what I have on your family. I’ve overlooked matters twice so far.”
The room goes eerily quiet for several moments. Both men looking at the other, not willing to look away.
“There won’t be a third.” Darius pulls out a piece of paper and passes it to him. “Clear?”
Viktor unfolds it. He reads it without a word. His jaw tightens, the only reaction he allows, before folding it again and shoving it into his suit pocket. “Yes.”
“Good.” Darius stands and heads for the door. “Twenty-four hours. Be gone. Or suffer the consequences.”
I don’t speak until we’re in the hall and on our way down the stairs. “Mind explaining?”
Wearing a stupid grin, he shakes his head. “Some secrets are better left alone. You should know this by now. Just trust me. He knows I don’t bluff and won’t cross me again.”
“There are days I have to wonder if you’re not just as bad as they are,” I tell him, honestly.
He only laughs. “One thing you’ll learn after doing this long enough is that you can’t be afraid to play the hand you’re dealt. There’s a fine line between good and evil. As long as the only people I hurt are those who deserve it, I don’t care.”
“Same,” I tell him—and I mean that.