Aria Vale
The cold press of the gun at his mouth, his mocking kiss — it all blurred into a single, searing beat of fury and want.
And then —movement.
Sharp. Fast.
Before I could react, Bishop was there — a hand locking onto my gun arm, wrenching it away. The weapon clattered to the ground.
I twisted, trying to fight, but it was too late.
Three of Damian's men surged forward, pinning Kira back against the wall.
She struggled, cursing viciously, but they had her outmanned, outgunned.
I sucked in a sharp breath, forcing myself still.
Damian didn't move.
He just watched.
Silent. Patient.
Like he was waiting to see what I would do when everything I had left — my power, my pride — was stripped away.
The air vibrated with tension.
Even the rain hammering against the broken roof sounded like gunfire.
"You came into my house," Damian said at last, voice low and calm, "thinking you could dictate terms."
He stepped closer again, slow and deliberate.
"You should have come armed with more than desperation."
I hated him.
I hated that he was right.
Bishop shoved me roughly to my knees, the cracked concrete biting into my skin. I glared up at Damian, refusing to drop my gaze even as humiliation roared through me.
"Go on," he said, voice a dark drawl.
"Make your next move, Aria."
I swallowed hard.
This was it.
The impossible choice.
Hold onto the files — and die tonight.
Or surrender — and live to fight another day.
Slowly, I reached into my jacket, pulling out the drive.
The black casing caught the broken light overhead, glinting like a razor.
I hated how my hands shook as I held it out.
Damian knelt in front of me — not hurried, not aggressive — just inevitable.
He plucked the drive from my hand, his fingers brushing mine — a touch so casual it burned.
For a heartbeat, he stayed there.
Eye to eye.
Breath to breath.
"You had me curious, Aria," he murmured, voice pitched for me alone.
"How far you'd go. How much you'd lose."
He tucked the drive into his jacket without looking away.
"Turns out..."
He smiled — slow, merciless.
"...you'll lose everything."
A flush of rage seared my chest, but I forced myself still.
Not here. Not yet.
Damian rose to his feet in one smooth, predator's motion.
He flicked a glance at Bishop.
"Let them go."
Bishop hesitated.
"But—"
"I said let them go."
There was a thread of steel under the quiet order. Bishop backed off immediately, releasing me.
I staggered upright, every muscle screaming at the humiliation, the need to lash out.
Damian stepped aside, giving me a clear path to the door.
"This is me being generous," he said.
"Don't make me regret it."
I said nothing.
I just turned, my body rigid, and crossed the ruined warehouse, Kira falling into step behind me like a shadow.
The storm swallowed us as we stepped outside.
But just before I vanished into the rain, I heard him —
soft, amused, inevitable.
"See you soon, Aria."
It wasn't a threat.
It was a promise.
And it tasted like blood in my mouth.
---
The rain hit like knives as we stumbled into the street, the storm devouring the warehouse behind us.
I kept moving, fast and blind, boots slamming against slick pavement.
Kira was at my side, matching my pace, blood running from a split at her brow where one of Bishop's men had slammed her against the wall.
We didn't speak.
Not until we rounded a corner into a half-collapsed alley, the neon lights of the city bleeding through the downpour.
Only then did I stop.
Only then did I let the scream out —
raw, guttural, tearing itself free from my chest.
I punched the crumbling wall, pain flaring up my knuckles.
Once. Twice.
"F**k!" I roared.
Kira didn't stop me.
She just stood there, breathing hard, rain plastering her hair to her skull, eyes burning.
"Are you done?" she asked when I sagged against the wall, trembling.
"No," I spat. "Not even close."
I raked my hand through my soaked hair, chest heaving.
He had the drive.
He had everything.
And he had let me walk away, like I was nothing but a broken thing he could afford to pity.
Humiliation churned with rage in my veins.
"I should've shot him," Kira growled, checking the clip on her weapon. "Should've put one right between his smug fucking eyes."
"He wanted us alive," I said bitterly.
"Dead women don't suffer."
Kira's jaw flexed.
"And now what?" she demanded. "You think he's just going to sit on that drive? Think he's going to let you crawl back to your life?"
I looked at her — really looked — and saw the truth there.
Damian Wolfe hadn't won.
Not yet.
Because the second he let me leave alive, he made a mistake.
He gave me time.
Time to rebuild.
Time to strike harder.
Time to rip his fucking empire apart from the inside out.
I straightened slowly, rain dripping from my lashes, every nerve in my body screaming for revenge.
"We take everything," I said, voice low and savage.
"Not just Monarch. Not just the files."
Kira's mouth twisted into a feral grin.
"You want him."
I nodded, blood pounding hot through my veins.
"Not just his empire," I whispered.
"Him."
Break the devil himself.
A chill rolled down my spine, but it wasn't fear.
It was clarity.
Pure, razor-edged clarity.
Damian Wolfe thought tonight was the end.
He had no idea—
It was just the beginning.