CHAPTER 34: 34

The last thing I remember was the look in Carmela’s eyes. It was sharp, stubborn, and distant. The kind of look that said "Don’t follow me."*l

And like a fool, I didn’t.

I leaned back in my chair, dragging a hand across my face as I exhaled through my nose. When did she get so damn stubborn? Or maybe the better question was when did I stop knowing how to reach her?

I stood, instinct leading me toward my desk, toward my phone. I didn’t even know what I was going to say yet. Maybe something soft. Maybe just "Come home." would do

But then the call came in.

And everything in my body went still.

"Boss... she’s been taken."

I heard the caller say and silence registered itself in the atmosphere.

"What the hell do you mean taken?" My voice was calm, but sharp enough to cut through stone but I got no response instead the line crackled.

I slammed my palm against the desk. "You better find her before the sun rises. I don’t care who you have to drag out of bed or bribe into a coma. If it means setting this whole goddamn city on fire then do it."

I hung up before I could hear them stutter.

My hand went straight to the drawer. The gun I hadn’t touched in five years was still there, waiting like it knew this day would come. I stared at it for half a second before grabbing it without a second thought.

No time for doubts. No time for guilt.

I threw on my coat and opened the tracker app. And to my relief there was a blinking signal although faint, but at least she was alive. She still had the leg chain on.

I barked for the car, already moving before they could reply. The driver pulled up, barely breathing.

"Where to, monsieur?"

I turned my phone, showing him the map.

"The abandoned warehouse," I said flatly in French to have him nod "Drive like your life depends on it. Because it might." I added cocking my gun

I didn’t say much else on the way there. Just stared out the window as Paris blurred past wet streets, glowing storefronts, empty sidewalks. I didn’t let myself imagine what was happening to her as I couldn’t afford to.

But deep down, I knew.

This wasn’t random. This was personal. And there were only two people bold or rather stupid enough to pull this. Ella Dalton and Steven Aron.

Ella was possessive. Dangerous, sure. But Steven? He was venom wearing a smile. I wouldn’t put it past him to tie up his own blood if it meant making a point.

I just hoped Carmela would hold on long enough for me to reach her.

The warehouse was already surrounded by my men by the time we arrived. They stood like shadows in the fog alert, armed, and waiting.

I stepped out and gave the order in a low, quiet voice.

"Kill anyone who gets in your way. But not her. She must walk out untouched."

They nodded with no questions as they proceeded.But as I scanned the warehouse, there were no guards, no noise, no movement making my stomach turn. It was too quiet.

More like a trap.

I turned to my right-hand man. "Three minutes. If I’m not out, level the place." I instructed and could see him hesitating to carrying out my orders

"Boss..if we blow it.."

"I said I’ll be fine." My voice left no room for argument.

Inside, the warehouse was cold and dead. The air smelled of rust and wet wood. My boots echoed on the cracked floor as I walked past shattered crates and broken furniture, until I turned a corner..

..and there she was.

Tied to a chair. Her head slumped forward and motionless.

I felt everything and nothing all at once. Rage burned quietly in my chest. But I didn’t rush forward.

Because I saw him too

Steven Aron.

Of course.

Sitting beside her like this was tea time in hell.

"What a surprise," I said, stepping into the light. "If I’d known you were coming to Paris, I’d have rolled out the red carpet."

He grinned. "You wouldn’t even offer me a motel."

"You’re right. This dump suits you."

He shrugged like it didn’t matter. "You’ve grown. Arrogant, but smarter. Still... not smart enough."

I glanced at Carmela, then back at him. "Why her?"

He raised a brow. "Because she’s the one thing you can’t afford to lose. And I wanted to watch you lose it."

With a flick of his hand, his men stepped out of the shadows guns raised, aimed at me.

"You came alone?" he asked, almost amused.

"Yeah," I said casually. "I wanted to see your face when this ends."

He laughed. Then pulled out a pistol and pressed it to Carmela’s temple.

That was it.

My entire world narrowed to that single image.

"Easy," I said, holding up a hand. "You don’t want to do this."

He leaned in closer to her. "Your father had that same look. Right before he died."

I froze but he kept going.

"You know why he died, don’t you? He tried to kill me. For your mother. That maid he married. The mistress’s daughter who somehow got everything. Shares. Power. My father’s love. She ruined everything."

He smirked.

"So I corrected that mistake by killing her although they did make a really good couple, a driver and the daughter of a maid

My jaw tightened and I could feel my fingers twitching at my side.

"Then Daddy tried to kill me. And your uncles couldn’t have that. So we sent him to her."

He chuckled again.

"And now, it’s your turn."

I shook my head, breathing slow. "You should’ve stayed dead the first time."

My watch buzzed, it was already time up.

I smiled letting out a deep breath "Steven Aron," I whispered, drawing my gun from my pocket, "say hi to the devil for me."

I pulled the trigger.

The shot echoed like thunder and I watched him drop like dead weight.

The room exploded into chaos. His men shouted. Gunfire lit the shadows. I dropped low, elbowed one in the gut, and shot another in the thigh and I reached for Carmela, I cut the ropes used to bond her and caught her as she collapsed into me.

"I’ve got you," I whispered. "You’re safe now. I’m here."

-"Boss," Tom said, stepping in carefully. "She’s alive. Still out cold, but the doctor is hopeful."

I didn’t look up right away.

"Today was my fault," he added. "I should’ve protected her. I swear it won’t happen again." I turned toward him slowly to have a proper view of him

"You know the three things I hate, Tom?"

He stiffened. "Yes, sir."

"Lies. Broken promises. And failure." I watched as he looked down.

"I cut ties with the senior boss for that exact reason," I said, pacing slowly. "But you... you’ve been with me since the beginning. That’s why I trusted you with her. Because I thought even if I couldn’t protect her you would."

He swallowed, shoulders square now, as guilt etched in every line of his face.

"She calls you brother, Tom," I said quietly. "You better live up to that. Because this world we live in? It’s colder than hell. And right now... she has no one else."

I breathed out and Tom was still standing there, guilt carved into his posture, but I wasn’t thinking about him anymore. My mind had already moved on racing ahead, past apologies and past regrets.

"Relying solely on martial arts won’t cut it anymore," I muttered more to myself than to him. "If the people I fear are the ones targeting her... then it’s time we escalated our measures."

Tom stiffened at the edge of the room but didn’t speak.

I turned and walked toward the guest wing where Carmela was being treated. The hallway stretched longer than usual. My boots sounded louder but my heartbeat even louder.

The door creaked softly as I pushed it open.

She lay there. Still and fragile.

The pale-blue glow from the IV monitor made her skin look almost translucent. The Carmela I knew fiery, sarcastic, sharp tongued was gone. Or at least, buried under that paper-thin stillness.

Her lips were slightly parted as she breathed through them, but barely. As an oxygen tube nestled just beneath her nose, pumping air into her lungs that had probably forgotten how to function on their own.

It did something ugly to me, seeing her like that.

Like someone had reached inside me and crushed a part of my chest.

She was too strong for this. Too bright.

Where the hell did that light go?

"Mr. Dean?"

The voice startled me. I turned to see the doctor Dr. Lemoine walking toward me with a clipboard pressed tightly to her chest.

She looked pale. And for a doctor, that was never a good sign.

"I’ve sent her blood to the hospital for full-spectrum testing," she said quietly, lowering her voice like she didn’t want to wake the dead. "The results are... not good."

My throat tightened.

"She was given an overdose of a narcotic fast-acting, heavily concentrated. I’ve already administered Naloxone to try and reverse the effects and I have also requested supplemental oxygen from the main hospital."

I swallowed hard, working to keep my voice even. "How long until she wakes up?"

"I... I don’t know." Her eyes softened, and that scared me more than anything. "It depends on her body’s response. There’s no guarantee."

I turned back to Carmela, walked slowly to her bedside, and brushed damp strands of hair from her forehead. Her skin was too cold. Her color was wrong. I used to tease her for how flushed she got when she was angry, how animated her eyes became when she argued.

Now she was a ghost in a sick bed.

"Come on, little storm," I murmured under my breath. "Don’t go quiet on me now."

"Mr. Dean."

The doctor’s voice pulled me back again. She held something in her gloved hands a small plastic container.

"I found this... in her coat pocket."

I took a step forward, eyebrows furrowed.

Inside was a small bottle. I didn’t need her to say it, but she did anyway.

"Methamphetamine."

The name alone made my gut twist.

"She had this on her?"

I questioned just to have her nodded solemnly. "Yes. It’s a highly potent stimulant. It can cause hallucinations, paranoia, and heart failure. But I’m uncertain if she was administered this or.."

I stared at the container, then at Carmela.

None of this made sense. I exhaled slowly, then looked the doctor square in the eye.

"Put it back in her pocket."

Her eyes widened, surprised. "Sir.."

"And don’t mention it. To anyone."

The hesitation in her face lasted only a second before she nodded, tucked the container away, and turned to leave.

The door shut behind her with a soft click

Alone again.

Just me. And her.

And the sickening weight of not knowing who I could trust anymore.

I sat beside the bed and watched her chest rise and fall. Every breath a war. Every second, a countdown.

She’d survived. Barely.

But this wasn’t survival.

This was war.

And someone just signed their name in blood.