(Third Person POV)
~Alexander ~
The quiet purr of the engine filled the car as Alex turned off Hailey's street and merged onto the main road, the city slowly shedding its morning haze. His fingers tapped once against the steering wheel, a rare sign of agitation slipping through his usually impenetrable calm.
Something about her lingered.
That innocence. That raw, unguarded trust she carried in her eyes. It was dangerous—for her, especially.
His phone buzzed against the center console, pulling him back into reality.
Without looking, he pressed the Bluetooth receiver. "Yes."
A sharp, low voice filled the car's speakers. It was Marcus, his right-hand man. Always blunt, never wasting a word.
"We found him, boss," Marcus said. "The rat you were looking for. He's holed up in the East End. Abandoned factory. Looks like he thought he could hide there forever."
Alex's grip on the steering wheel tightened, the leather creaking faintly under his hand.
Good.
"He alone?" Alex asked, his voice low, even, dangerous.
"Far as we can tell. Brought one maybe two with him. Nothing you can't handle."
Alex's eyes stayed on the road, but his mind was already shifting gears, the mask of the respectable businessman slipping away to reveal the predator beneath.
The man they'd found—Mason Vale—had been a trusted associate for nearly five years. Trusted enough to handle money, contacts, even shipments. Trusted enough to know things he should never have known.
And then he turned.
Sold information. Crossed lines that weren't meant to be crossed. Thought Alex wouldn't find out.
He thought wrong.
"Send me the location," Alex said quietly.
"Already did," Marcus replied. There was a beat of silence, then: "You want us to wait for you, boss? Or you want us to soften him up first?"
Alex's mouth curved into something that could have been mistaken for a smile, if you didn't know him better.
"No," he said. "No touching him. I'll handle it myself."
He ended the call without waiting for a reply.
The silence in the car returned, but it was a different kind of silence now—heavy, charged. The kind of silence before a storm.
Alex took the next exit off the highway, his mind already calculating. No loose ends. No public messes. Clean. Quiet. Final.
The façade he wore—the charming, affluent father, the real estate mogul, the man who could sit across from politicians and bankers without breaking a sweat—was necessary. It kept Mia safe. It kept their lives intact.
But this?
This was who he really was.
The wolf hiding in plain sight.
His phone buzzed again—a message this time. Coordinates. A black pin blinking on a rundown part of East London. A place where the police didn't ask questions and no one was stupid enough to play hero.
Perfect.
As he turned down a narrower, rougher road, Alex loosened his tie and shrugged out of his coat, tossing it onto the passenger seat. He reached into the center console and pulled out the weapon he kept there—a sleek, black 9mm—and checked it with a smooth efficiency born of years of necessity.
Safety off. One in the chamber.
His reflection in the rearview mirror caught his eye for a fleeting moment—cold, detached, clinical. Not the man who had smiled at Hailey that morning. Not the man his daughter believed him to be.
Someone far older. Far deadlier.
By the time he pulled up near the abandoned factory, Marcus and two others were already there, waiting by a black SUV parked across the street. They straightened as he stepped out of his car, wordless.
Respect. Fear.
Alex tucked the gun into the back of his waistband beneath his sweater and nodded once.
"Inside?" he asked.
Marcus jerked his chin toward the crumbling loading dock. "Second floor. Corner office. We got eyes on him. He's pacing. Nervous as hell."
Alex's jaw flexed once.
"Good," he said. "Stay out here. I want five minutes."
Marcus opened his mouth as if to argue, then thought better of it. He gave a short nod instead.
Without another word, Alex strode across the cracked concrete yard, every step purposeful, silent. The air was damp with the scent of rust and mildew, the perfect stage for what was about to happen.
Inside, the factory was a skeleton of what it once was—broken windows, graffiti-scrawled walls, the floor littered with debris. His footsteps echoed softly as he climbed the metal stairs, the rusted railing groaning under his hand.
He found Mason exactly where Marcus said he'd be—holed up in a corner office that smelled of old oil and fear.
The second Mason saw him, his face went pale.
"Alex—" Mason stammered, hands instinctively raising, as if Alex were a wild animal that could be soothed. "Listen, I can explain—"
Alex shut the door behind him with a soft click.
"No," he said. "You can't."
Mason backed up until he hit the desk behind him, knocking over a stack of empty cans. His voice cracked. "It wasn't what you think. I—I didn't mean for it to get that far—"
Alex moved slowly, almost casually, across the room. His expression never changed. He didn't shout. He didn't threaten.
He didn't need to.
The power was in his presence. The cold inevitability of him.
"You sold information to the Mancinis," Alex said, voice low and controlled. "Names. Numbers. Locations."
"I swear, it was just once—just to clear a debt—"
"And you thought I wouldn't find out?" Alex cut him off, tilting his head slightly. "You thought I wouldn't care?"
Mason's mouth opened, closed, opened again, like a man drowning trying to plead for air.
"You know the rules," Alex said softly, stepping closer. "No betrayal. No forgiveness."
Mason made a desperate lunge toward the door.
He never made it.
Alex moved fast, a single, brutal punch to Mason's gut folding him to the floor with a strangled gasp. Before Mason could even recover, Alex drew the gun and pressed the barrel lightly against the back of his skull.
"You made your choice," Alex murmured.
A single, muffled shot cracked through the abandoned building.
And just like that, Mason Vale was a memory.
Alex stood over the body for a moment, his chest rising and falling with slow, even breaths. He wiped the gun down with a cloth from his pocket, slipping it back into his waistband before calmly exiting the room.
Marcus was waiting by the SUV, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He flicked it away when he saw Alex approach.
"Clean?" Marcus asked.
Alex gave a single nod. "Burn it down."
Marcus grinned grimly. "My pleasure."
Without looking back, Alex got into his car and pulled away, the smoke already beginning to rise in his rearview mirror.
Another problem solved.
Another secret buried.
But even as the city swallowed him back into its waking heart, a different kind of trouble lingered on his mind.
A girl with bright eyes and a hesitant smile.
Hailey.
Alex flexed his hand once on the steering wheel.
Some betrayals were easy to punish.
Others?
They were far more dangerous.