Chapter 49
The Cost of Victory
Near the main entrance, Kael fights to hold the threshold.
Without his primary weapon, he relies on his training to repel the remaining forces.
When an attacker charges, Kael intercepts the strike and counters with a heavy blow to the ribs, sending the man stumbling.
Kael uses the momentum to drive the intruder away from the entrance, clearing a path through the foyer.
Another attacker lunges from the side, landing a strike on Kael’s cheek.
Staggering back, Kael recovers quickly. As the man tries to pin him down, Kael delivers a sharp strike to the midsection followed by a forceful throw, neutralizing the threat.
A third man aims a handgun from across the room, forcing Kael to dive behind the bar as glass shatters around him.
Finding a discarded sidearm, Kael fires a single shot to end the confrontation.
Silence falls over the entrance. Kael's breathing is heavy as Victor’s voice crackles over the commas: “Everyone! Upper floor! Now!”
Kael calls out for Lucius, but the lack of an immediate response confirms his fears. He races up the stairs.
The upper floor is a scene of devastation. Alessio and Lucius are locked in a final struggle, both exhausted and injured. They collide against the wall with enough force to rattle the room. Alessio attempts to gain the upper hand by targeting Lucius’s injured shoulder, causing him to wince in pain.
“You're finished,” Alessio snarls.
Lucius meets his gaze with steady resolve. “No.”
Lucius breaks the hold with a forceful strike, sending Alessio reeling. Alessio scrambles for a fallen weapon, but Lucius kicks it away. Desperate, Alessio pulls a concealed backup weapon and fires. The bullet strikes Lucius in the abdomen.
The room falls into a heavy, ringing silence. Lucius stumbles, blood staining his shirt, but he refuses to fall. He lunges at Alessio, and the two crashes through the glass doors onto the balcony.
Another shot rings out from the doorway. Teajun stands there, seeing the danger Lucius is in. Without hesitation, Teajun moves to protect him. The round hits Teajun in the chest, and he collapses into Lucius’s arms.
The wind howls around them as Lucius desperately tries to stem the bleeding. “Teajun! Stay with me!”
Teajun offers a faint, tired smile. “I’ve got you, boss.”
The rest of the team—Victor, Alex, Kai, and Kael—arrive on the balcony and stop, paralyzed by the sight. Teajun’s gaze drifts over his brothers, his voice a fragile whisper. “Don’t let him... die alone.”
Lucius shakes his head, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re going to be fine. Just keep breathing.”
Teajun’s eyes slowly close as his strength fades. “I guess... this is close enough.”
His body goes still. Lucius calls his name, but there is no answer. Something breaks inside Lucius. He gently lays his friend down and stands to face Alessio.
Alessio watches with a twisted smirk. “Everyone around you dies, Lucius.”
The sadness on Lucius's face vanishes, replaced by a cold, absolute focus. Alessio tries to reach for another weapon, but Lucius is faster. He pins Alessio against the railing, ignoring the desperate strikes Alessio throws at him.
“You took everything,” Lucius says quietly.
Alessio attempts one last move with a hidden blade, but Lucius intercepts it. In a final, decisive movement, the conflict ends. Alessio falls, and the threat to the syndicate is finally over.
The victory feels hollow. As the adrenaline recedes, Lucius sways his hand pressing against his own wound. His knees buckle, and Victor catches him before he hits the floor.
“Get the car!” Victor shouts.
Alex and Kai sprint to clear a path and secure transport. Kael lingers for a moment by Teajun’s side, whispering a final apology before following the others into the night.
The drive to the hospital feels endless, a frantic blur of screeching tyres and flashing streetlights. Lucius lies across the back seat, his torso slick with deep crimson as Victor presses down with both hands, using his full weight to hold pressure against the open wounds.
Alex drives like a madman, forcing the heavy saloon car through red lights and weaving violently between traffic.
Up in the passenger seat, Kai’s hands tremble as he keeps calling ahead to the trauma unit.
"Two minutes!" he shouts into the receiver, his voice cracking under the strain. "We are two minutes out!"
Victor pushes harder against the bleeding, the warmth of it seeping right through his fingers. "Tell them he's losing too much blood," he rasps, his jaw clenched.
"I already did!" Kai yells back, not looking around.
"Tell them again!"
Victor looks down at Lucius, whose face has gone a sickening shade of grey in the passing shadows of the city. "Stay awake, Lucius. Keep your eyes on me."
Lucius's eyelids flutter, barely opening as he fights for a microscopic pocket of air. "Tessa…" he whispers, the sound rattling in his throat.
Victor's throat tightens, a sudden, suffocating knot of emotion locking his chest. "She'll be here. Just hold on."
Lucius struggles to expand his lungs, his fingers twitching against the leather. "Promise?"
Victor looks directly into his fading eyes, his voice dropping into a hard, unyielding register. "I promise."
The hospital’s emergency doors burst open before the car has even come to a full, controlled stop in the ambulance bay.
A team of trauma doctors and nurses rush towards them, swarming the vehicle with a gurney.
They pull Lucius from the back seat, cutting away the rest of his ruined clothes as they wheel him down the bright, sterile corridor, disappearing behind a set of heavy double doors.
Victor stands completely still on the asphalt, his arms hanging loosely at his sides.
His hands are entirely covered in blood—thick, cooling, and dark.
Lucius's blood. Teajun’s blood. He looks down at his stained palms, his mind completely numb as he realizes he doesn't even know whose is whose anymore.
The double doors click shut, sealing the underworld out. Everyone waits.
Minutes dissolve into an hour, then another, the sterile white lights of the waiting room reflecting off their hollowed faces. Nobody speaks. Nobody moves. The silence in the corridor is suffocating, a heavy, static weight that anchors them to the floorboards.
Finally, a lead surgeon walks out of the operating theatre towards them, his green scrubs splattered with red. Everyone stands instantly, their postures rigid. Victor steps forward, his boots leaving faint, rusty prints on the linoleum. "How is he?"
The doctor removes his paper mask, taking a slow, heavy breath as he looks at the group of hardened men before him. "He's critical."
Victor's jaw tightens, his pulse hammering against his ribs. "But?"
The doctor evaluates their desperate expressions. "But he has a chance. His heart is strong."
For the first time that night, the suffocating pressure breaks.
Someone in the corridor finally breathes.
Kai closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall, while Alex collapses onto a nearby plastic chair, burying his face in his hands.
Kael fixes his gaze on the ceiling, his chest rising and falling in a ragged rhythm.
Victor closes his eyes, his voice barely a whisper. "Thank God."
"His injuries are incredibly severe," the doctor continues his tone clinical and direct. "He's lost a dangerous, near-fatal amount of blood, but we've managed to stabilize his vitals for the moment. The next twenty-four hours are absolutely critical. If his organs hold, he will make it."
Victor nods flatly, his military focus returning. "Can we see him?"
"Not yet. He’s being transferred to the intensive care unit."
But he has a chance. Those four words become the only tether keeping the remaining family standing.
The next twenty-four hours drag into thirty-six, and then bleed into forty-eight. Lucius does not wake.
Doctors and specialists move in and out of the glass room in a quiet, rhythmic sequence. The life-support machines continue their steady, mechanical work, rhythmic whirring and ticking filling the small space. The men wait in the corridor, a wall of silent muscle guarding the threshold.
By the third day, Tessa finally arrives, accompanied by the elite perimeter guards. The moment she reaches the intensive care ward and catches sight of Lucius through the clear glass, her stride breaks. She stops dead in her tracks, her breath scratching in her throat.
He lies completely motionless beneath the stark white sheets, his powerful frame looking terrifyingly fragile, connected to a labyrinth of black machines, clear tubes, and blinking monitors. She steps forward, her hand trembling as she presses her palm flat against the cold glass. "No…"
Victor steps up behind her, his presence a silent shield. "He's alive, Tessa."
Tessa turns her tear-streaked face towards him, her eyes wide with a desperate, frantic panic. "Then why doesn't he wake up? Why is he looking like this?"
Victor stares through the glass, his jaw locking. He has no answer to give her.
She pushes past the threshold, entering the sterile room with quiet, hesitant steps.
She sits on the edge of the vinyl chair beside the bed, her movements slow as she reaches out and takes Lucius's uninjured hand.
His fingers are terrifyingly cold against her skin.
She lifts them gently, bringing his knuckles up to rest against her wet cheek, trying to breathe her own warmth into his veins.
"You promised me," she whispers, her voice breaking completely as the tears spill over. "You held me in his study and you promised you'd come back to me."
Nothing changes. The chest beneath the sheets rises and falls only by the grace of the machine.
She leans closer, her lips brushing against his forehead, her whisper turning fierce with a desperate, possessive anger. "You don't get to leave me, Lucius. Do you hear me? You don't get to leave."
The monitors continue their steady, indifferent rhythm, cutting through her grief.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.