CHAPTER 258: THE KING BLEEDS

‎I stayed until the steady rise and fall of her chest became the only rhythm that made sense. Machines hummed beside her, indifferent, constant. I counted the beeps, one by one, until I could breathe without shattering.

‎When I finally straightened, the pain hit — a deep, twisting burn that flared beneath the bandages around my side. I ignored it. The grief was sealed away, entombed under something colder and far more dangerous.

‎Fury.

‎The antiseptic air burned in my lungs as I left the room. Blood—mine, hers, who knew anymore—clung to my clothes. The hall lights were too bright; they made the world tilt for a moment before I forced it back into focus.

‎Cameron was waiting just outside the door. Gray stood beside him, hands clasped behind his back, eyes sharp.

‎"The security detail is confirmed?" I demanded, my voice a low, steady rumble that contained no residue of the broken man who had knelt moments before.

‎"Tripled the rotation, Boss," Gray confirmed, his voice clipped and efficient. "Private security firm is locked down on this floor and the one above. Nothing moves in or out without my digital sign-off and physical confirmation."

‎I nodded once. "Good."

‎The movement pulled at the stitches in my shoulder. Warmth spread beneath the fabric—fresh blood. I didn’t look at it.

‎"I’ve got the preliminary data on the leak," Gray said, his voice flat. "It hit four major outlets simultaneously. But the source—it’s encrypted deep. We’ve traced it through three proxy servers, but it keeps hitting a dead end. Someone is hiding their tracks incredibly well."

‎"And the ambush?" I forced the word out evenly. My ribs ached with every breath. "Did the police file an official report?"

‎"Yes, but it was categorized as a hit-and-run, based on the explosion and wreckage," Cameron said grimly. "They missed the tactical aspect. I’ve already contacted the Chief of Police. He owes me a favor. We’re going to let the official investigation run its course, but our team is handling the forensics cleanup and tracking privately. We’ll treat it as a targeted assassination attempt, because that’s what it was."

‎"The car?" My fingers curled against my palm. I needed to focus on data, not memory.

‎"A medium-duty cargo truck," Gray replied, grimacing. "Stolen, modified with reinforced plating. The driver was a ghost. No IDs, no dental records. But the way they hit the car, the collision angle—" He hesitated, eyes flicking toward the sling under my jacket. "It was meant to kill everyone inside."

‎He hesitated. "Boss... it feels like the Consortium."

‎The name hung in the air—the silent boogeyman of my world. A coalition of new, interconnected families who hated the old money, the ruthlessness, and the sheer power of the Walton dynasty. They had always been rivals, never direct combatants.

"The Consortium doesn’t get its hands dirty," I said, though the words scraped my throat. "They hire lobbyists, not hitmen, and certainly not terrorists willing to take us out."

‎

"But they hate you," Cameron interjected, leaning forward seriously. "It was designed to hurt you where you wouldn’t expect."

‎My jaw clenched. Pain shot down my arm, sudden and sharp. I caught the wall briefly, disguising it as a pause. "The board meeting?"

‎"In six hours," Cameron confirmed, consulting his watch. "They’re trying to move fast, call an emergency vote to strip your executive authority. They’re leaning on the ’moral turpitude’ clause, citing the scandal and the instability."

‎Of course they had.

‎"Good," I started walking toward the elevator, boots echoing against the marble. "Let them. It’ll make what comes next easier."

‎"What’s the plan, boss?" Gray asked.

‎I stopped at the end of the hall, my eyes fixed on an invisible point miles away.

‎"Plan A," I stated, my voice low and dangerous. "We find whoever the hell is behind all of this. We find the source of the leak. We find every single person who spread that lie and put a finger on my mother or my wife."

‎I met Cameron’s eyes. "And then, we make them pay in a way they can’t rebuild from. I want a level of destruction they won’t recover from. I want their names erased. Dismantle their companies. Burn their money, and their bloodlines removed from the surface of the earth."

‎"And Plan B?" Cameron prompted.

‎I stepped into the elevator. The motion made my vision blur; I gripped the railing until the spinning stopped.

‎"We. Hunt."

‎The doors slid shut, sealing us in with the hum of machinery and the faint scent of iron. I caught my reflection in the mirrored wall—blood drying at the collar, eyes too dark, too calm. I almost didn’t recognize myself.

‎"You think its Caden too, right?" Cameron’s voice was quiet, but not uncertain.

‎The elevator hummed, ascending smoothly. I leaned against the back wall, the steel cool against my spine. Caden. The thought had crossed my mind, of course. He was always lurking, a festering wound of resentment and ambition. But Caden was predictable, brute force in human form. And I had men tailing him. This..this is too... subtle.

‎"Caden lacks the finesse, the resources," I said finally, my voice barely audible above the elevator music. "He’s a rabid dog, not a chess master."

‎Cameron nodded slowly, considering my words. "He could be a pawn, though. Someone else pulling his strings. The Consortium could be using him, feeding him information, providing the means. Just saying."

‎The elevator doors opened onto the parking level. My armored SUV waited, engine idling. Beside it stood two men from my personal security detail, faces impassive.

‎"Get me a new shirt, Cam," I said, finally acknowledging the dried blood marring my expensive fabric. "Something dark. No tie. And call my legal team. Tell them to prepare a motion for an immediate, hostile takeover of anyone on the board who dares to vote against my initiatives today."

‎Cameron nodded and went to make the call. Gray followed me into the car, tablet already glowing with fresh data.

‎As we drove out into the cold night, I leaned back against the seat. The vibration of the engine pressed against the half-healed wound in my back.

‎I stared out at the city lights — my city — spreading beneath the glass like circuitry waiting for my command. Every flicker, every tower, every heartbeat in those streets owed something to me. Let them forget. I’ll remind them.

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