Damian Wolfe
I should have known better than to think I could walk away from that confrontation unscathed.
The moment I stepped out of the vault and into the cold, sterile hallway, I could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on me. Every part of me screamed to turn back, to end it before it could spiral further, but I couldn't.
Not yet.
Kira had been right to be on edge—Aria was playing a dangerous game, and it wasn't just a game anymore. It was war, she was too stubborn to see it.
But I wasn't going to lose. Not to her. Not to anyone.
I stopped just outside the elevator, pulling out my phone and dialing the only number I could trust. The Bishop picked up on the first ring.
"Stay close," I growled. "We need eyes on Aria. Right now."
"Already on it," he replied, his voice low, measured. "And the vault?"
"I'm giving her enough rope to hang herself. But don't let her get too far. She's trying to play me, but I'm not an amateur. Let's see who gets played" I scoffed.
I ended the call, tension building in my chest. I knew Aria. She wouldn't stop. But I had underestimated how much she'd learned. How much of me she'd uncovered.
She was digging too deep. And if she found what she was looking for... well, she'd be walking into a world that was far darker than she imagined.
But I'd make sure of one thing. If Aria thought she was the one holding the match, she was wrong.
I'd already set the fire. And now... it was time to watch it all go down.
---
Aria Vale
The final file transferred.
I exhaled sharply, the glow of the screen casting cold light across my skin. Every secret, every dirty connection — it was all mine now.
And yet, instead of victory, something dark and coiled unfurled inside me.
The trap was set. The lies were exposed.
But it wasn't just about destroying Damian Wolfe anymore.
It was about survival.
About my father's legacy.
About my own bloody, battered redemption.
And the cost?
I didn't know yet.
Only that it would be higher than I'd ever imagined.
Kira stood at my back, silent, waiting for my call. But something gnawed at me, sharp and insistent — a wrongness I couldn't shake.
I should have known.
Of course Damian would come for me.
He had to.
But what if he wasn't the enemy I thought he was?
What if...
I cut the thought dead.
There was no room for doubt. Not anymore.
Whatever he thought he was protecting — whatever I once believed he could feel — it didn't matter.
The board was set. The pieces were in motion.
The only question now was who would still be standing when the dust cleared.
---
The air in the vault thickened, every breath heavier than the last. Like the walls themselves were closing in.
I stared at the files flashing across the screen — too clean, too perfect — and a cold fist clamped around my gut.
"Kira," I said, voice tightening. "Pause the transfer."
She moved fast. One tap, and the hum of drives cut to silence.
The quiet that followed was heavier than any shout.
Kira's fingers flew across the keyboard, slicing through layers of code, searching for what we already knew deep down. It didn't take long.
"F**k," she breathed, stepping back.
There it was.
Hidden in the data — backdoors. Malware. Trackers.
The moment we tried to use any of it, it would backfire. Broadcasting our location to Monarch's loyalists. Marking us for death.
The trap wasn't just set.
It was already closing.
I felt my fists clench, nails biting into my palms.
This wasn't a mistake. It was a sentence. One carefully scripted by Damian Wolfe.
Kira turned, eyes flashing. "We need to wipe it. Now. We're not equipped to scrub this."
I didn't answer immediately.
Because if we wiped it, if we ran — we lost everything.
And even then, we wouldn't be safe. Damian had made sure of that.
He always made sure.
I shut my eyes for half a second, forcing clarity past the rage, the fear.
There was another way. One so reckless it tasted like ash on my tongue.
I opened my eyes, found Kira's.
"Set up a meet."
Her brow furrowed. "With who?"
I didn't blink.
"You know who."
The words hit the air like a slap.
Kira stared at me — disbelief, anger, understanding bleeding through her armor.
"You want to walk into the lion's den?" she hissed. "Are you out of your goddamn mind?"
"Maybe," I said quietly. "But he's the only one who knows how deep this goes."
She cursed again, low and vicious, but didn't argue.
Because we both knew: there were no good choices left. Only the ones that kept us breathing a little longer.
I grabbed the burner, my hands steady even as my stomach twisted into hard knots.
One message. One word.
Parley.
And I sent it to the only man who could either save me—or destroy me completely.
Damian Wolfe.
---
Damian Wolfe
The burner buzzed once against the glass tabletop.
I didn't need to look.
I already knew.
I picked it up anyway, turning the screen over in my hand.
One word. Simple. Sharp.
Parley.
A slow, crooked smile curved my mouth.
I turned the phone toward Bishop, who watched silently from the shadows of the penthouse.
"Smarter than I gave her credit for," I murmured.
"Or more desperate," he said, dry. "She knows she's running out of time."
I let the phone drop back onto the table with a soft clink.
"Good, I'm curious" I said softly. "Let's see what desperation makes her do."
Because if Aria Vale thought she could walk into my world and negotiate—
She was about to learn the first rule:
There are no bargains with the devil.
Only debts.
And every debt, eventually, must be paid and must be paid in full.