POV Owen
Rain seeps through the rafters, dripping onto the concrete floor like a clock counting down.
The deal was supposed to happen in silence—three minutes in, one minute out. Adrian handled the drop before. He knew the codes, the timing, the faces. I trusted him because Michael trusted him once. That was my first mistake.
“Everything set?” I ask, adjusting the wire beneath my collar.
Adrian nods, his voice steady. “Silas expects a shipment, not you. Stay calm, stay invisible. We get in, we get the recording, we get out.”
Rhea’s voice hums in my earpiece from the van outside. “You’ve got seven minutes before their frequency hops. Keep chatter to a minimum.”
“Copy,” I mutter.
Adrian flicks a cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath his heel. “You really think this will end it?”
“It ends when he’s gone,” I say. “Not before.”
He smirks faintly. “You always were a zealot.”
“Better that than a coward.”
He laughs, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
The warehouse is half-light and shadows. Pallets stacked with crates, guards stationed like chess pieces. I keep my pace casual, head down, every sense tuned for the faintest wrong note.
Silas is somewhere beyond that steel door ahead. The air feels heavier here—like he already knows I’m coming. Adrian steps forward first, flashing his access badge. The guards nod him through. I follow close behind.
Then the click. The sound every man knows too well—the sound of a gun cocking behind your ear.
“Don’t move,” a voice says. I freeze.
“Adrian,” I whisper. He doesn’t turn. Doesn’t flinch.
Just says quietly, “I told you once, loyalty is a myth.”
And then he walks away. The guards strip me of my weapons and shove me through the steel door into a room that smells like rust and gasoline.
Silas sits on a metal chair in the center, his smile slow and sharp. “You really thought I wouldn’t notice?”
He gestures, and one of the men yanks the wire from my collar, holding it up like a snake.
“Cute,” Silas says. “You’ve grown sloppy, Owen. Sentimental. A family man.”
I say nothing. He stands, circling me like a wolf studying its prey. “You brought a wire to my house. How insulting. After everything I taught you about loyalty.”
“You taught me obedience,” I say. “Not loyalty.”
He grins. “Semantics.”
The first punch comes before I can brace. Knuckles slam into my ribs, stealing my breath. Another to the jaw. Then another. The room spins.
“Don’t break him yet,” Silas says calmly. “We’re going live.”
He takes out his phone and turns it toward me. “You’ll appreciate this, Owen. I thought we’d share your homecoming with someone who misses you.”
He dials. I know the tone before I hear it—the soft chime of Noelle’s phone connecting through a secure line. Rhea’s voice echoes faintly in my earpiece before it cuts: “Owen? They’re—” static.
And then I hear her.
“No,” Noelle’s voice trembles through the phone speaker. “Silas, what are you doing?”
“Reunion,” he says pleasantly. “You’ve done such a beautiful job pretending you’re untouchable, Mrs. Tate. I thought it was time you watched your illusion bleed.”
“Silas, don’t,” she whispers. “Please—”
Her voice breaks, and it’s like fire under my skin.
Silas smiles wider. “You see, Owen, this is love’s flaw. You’ll die for it, but it won’t save you.”
He nods once. Two men grab me, forcing me to my knees. The first kick cracks something in my side. I hear the sound before I feel the pain.
“Stop!” Noelle screams. “You bastard!”
Silas holds the phone steady, savoring every sound. “Tell her something,” he says. “One last goodbye before I turn you into art.”
I spit blood onto the floor and look straight into the lens. “Turn it off, angel.”
She sobs. “Please, Owen—say something—”
I manage a faint smile. “You’ll know what to do.”
Silas chuckles. “Romantic to the end. Let’s see how long that lasts.”
The next blow shatters my left forearm. My vision flashes white.
“God,” she whispers through the phone, “please, stop it—”
Silas glances at the screen. “You hear that, Owen? Even now, she begs for you. How noble. How predictable.”
He crouches beside me, voice low. “She’ll move on eventually. Maybe to that pretty boy Hart. They’ll make a beautiful couple for the cameras. You’ll be just a headline—The Traitor Who Died for Nothing.”
I laugh, hoarse and broken. “You don’t know her.”
He tilts his head and raises the phone again, showing me her face—Noelle pale, eyes wild, tears streaking her cheeks.
“This woman destroyed kingdoms with a smile,” Silas says softly. “And you think she won’t survive you?”
Another blow—this one to the ribs again. The sound echoes, wet and final. My body screams, but I stay upright. Because she’s watching. Because if I fall, he wins twice.
“Break him,” Silas orders.
They drag me up, punch after punch. My world becomes light and sound—bones snapping, lungs refusing air. Still, I stay silent.
“Talk!” one of them snarls.
I spit another tooth. “You’re not worth the breath.”
Silas sighs, almost disappointed. “You used to be such a fine weapon.”
He turns the camera closer to my face. “Look at him, Noelle. This is what devotion costs. Do you still love him?”
Her voice trembles through the speaker. “More than you’ll ever understand.”
The words cut through the haze. Silas’s smile fades. For the first time, I see irritation—real, human. “Then maybe I’ll have to visit her next.”
That’s the moment something inside me—what’s left of reason, mercy, restraint—snaps.
I lunge forward despite the pain, despite the cuffs biting into my wrists. I slam my shoulder into the nearest guard, feel the crunch of impact, hear Silas shout, “Restrain him!”
A boot connects with my face, sending me sprawling. Blood fills my mouth. Silas grabs my hair, yanking my head back, his face inches from mine. “You can die quiet, or you can die screaming. Choose.”
I smile through the blood. “You first.”
He backhands me hard enough to split skin. “Still defiant. Admirable. Stupid, but admirable.”
He wipes the blood off his sleeve, turns the phone back toward me. “Say goodbye, Owen. Last chance.” I look straight into the camera, through the static, through the thousands of miles separating me from her.
My voice is barely a whisper. “Keep the light on.”
The phone falls silent. The feed cuts. Silas pockets the device, expression unreadable. “Take him downstairs. We’ll see how long his silence lasts.”