CHAPTER 53: 53

Everything suddenly felt surreal. The weight of the moment pressed down on my chest, heavy and unrelenting, but backing out wasn’t an option..

not anymore.

"Are you sure she won’t kill us when she wakes up?" Ken’s voice cracked through the silence from his corner, thinly veiled nerves lacing every word. His fingers drummed against his thigh, betraying the composure he tried to hold.

Xavier chuckled, low and dry. "If you were this scared, you should’ve stayed back and handled the business in Nix’s absence," he said, not bothering to glance in Ken’s direction.

But Ken’s anxieties were the least of my concerns.

Tom, Luna, Zamiel, and his fiancée were still at the dining party, keeping up appearances, trying to keep the suspicions at bay. Yet the old man’s unwavering gaze lingered on the painting before us, his silence more telling than any accusation. It was only a matter of time before cracks began to show.

The painting was a masterpiece a surreal landscape where the sun hung suspended in a crystalline sky, its pale rays spilling like icy ribbons across a frozen expanse. Blues and whites dominated the canvas, kissed by threads of silver and faint traces of yellow that hinted at a fragile dawn. The light was soft, diffused, almost hesitant, casting the whole scene in a fragile, frozen hush. It bore the title Frozen Sun, Carmela’s work. Despite my efforts, I had never managed to acquire it. And this old man... he was the reason why.

"We won’t be able to stop her," he finally said, his voice as still as the scene on that canvas. "Nor talk her out of whatever she’s set on doing."

My jaw tightened. "So what do you suggest?" I asked, one brow lifting, though I already sensed his answer would carry more weight than comfort.

"Take her away while she’s still unconscious. Take her far away... and make her forget everything." His voice carried a quiet plea, one I wanted to ignore more than anything.

I wasn’t fond of this old man, never had been. But on this matter, we were aligned, Carmela had to be taken away. That much, I agreed to.

But make her forget everything?

Never.

"Untie her," I ordered Xavier, my tone leaving no room for hesitation as I stepped closer to where Carmela lay motionless. Her chest rose and fell in a shallow rhythm, unaware of the storm building around her.

"I’ve fulfilled my part of the bargain," I said evenly. "Now it’s your turn. Where is the remaining half of the seal?"

The old man let out a light, humorless laugh, his eyes glinting with that infuriating calm.

"It’s with her," he said, nodding toward Carmela.

My brow arched. "With her?"

"She took it with her the day she decided to escape," he replied, lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer.

"So, if she doesn’t remember where it is... there won’t be an heir to the dynasty?" My words were sharp, my patience thinning.

He tilted his head, the smugness never leaving his face. "The dynasty will devour itself. Once word gets out that the seal is missing, every viper will bare its fangs, and the fight for power will end in blood."

"Every dog biting its master," I murmured, staring hard at him. "You planned this from the very start, didn’t you?"

He didn’t answer. Silence was the only confession I would get from him.

"Leave before someone notices," he said at last, brushing past me, his presence fading like a shadow at dusk.

I exhaled slowly and bent, lifting Carmela in my arms, cradling her as though the weight of her unconscious form could steady the storm in my mind. Bridal style.. how ironic.

"Inform Luna and Zamiel," I said over my shoulder, "tell them to cover for us. If anyone asks, they’re to say we never left the party."

Without another glance at Xavier, I headed for the secret passage the old man had shown me, its cold stone walls swallowing us whole as the door shut behind.

We arrived at the parking lot and the moment I helped her into the car and took my seat at the driver’s side her eyes widened as though the pieces of a long, twisted puzzle had finally fallen into place.

"You’ve been pulling the strings all along," she whispered, her tone laced with disbelief and something darker.. betrayal maybe

I didn’t answer. Not immediately. As the hum of the engine filled the tense space between us, the road stretching like a narrow lifeline ahead. The shadows of the night clung to the edges of the windshield, and her breathing came quick, shallow, erratic.

"Why didn’t you just tell me?" she pressed, her voice rising slightly, fighting the restraint of her bound wrists. "Why let me think I was fighting this alone? Was this your plan? To drag me back into your world, to chain me to your madness?"

"I didn’t want this," I said finally, my voice low but unyielding. "Not like this. But you left me no choice, Carmela. You were going to burn everything down, including yourself. And I can’t let that happen."

"Can’t let it happen?" she scoffed, a hollow laugh escaping her lips. "Or won’t let it happen because it ruins your control?"

I glanced at her, briefly, just enough to catch the glint of her eyes in the dim dashboard light. There was this fire there, accompanied with bound, and even betrayal. It was like she was still a storm I hadn’t learned how to contain.

"You think I want to control you?" I muttered. "Then you’re wrong. I want to keep you alive."

Her silence was heavier than her accusations. Her head turned away, as her gaze lost in the streaking dark of the night beyond the window.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked after a beat, quieter now.

"Somewhere they can’t reach you," I replied. "Somewhere you’ll have time to remember.. on your own."

Her breath hitched faintly at that word remember. She didn’t trust me, but I know something in her tightened at the possibility that what she’d lost, what they’d tried to erase, was still somewhere inside her.

"You’ll regret this, Nix," she murmured, her voice carrying both a warning and a promise I knew would actually fulfill no matter the amount of time it will take

"I already do," I whispered.

...

His hands moved with unsettling precision, not rough but not gentle either just efficient. I tugged against the restraints, testing them, my wrists already sore from the earlier struggle. The room smelled faintly of damp wood and old fabric; the walls, a dull beige, seemed to hold their breath, as though they too feared what might unfold.

He stepped back, watching me. "Stop straining yourself," he said flatly, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. "You’ll only bruise your wrists, and that’s the last thing you need."

I glared at him, the questions burning hotter than the ache in my arms. "Who are you, really? Nix? Nathan? Alpha One? Or just another liar in a long line of men who think they know what’s best for me?"

His jaw tightened, but his expression remained unreadable. "Does it matter what name I used? Every version of me was trying to keep you alive."

"Alive for what?" I snapped, the words cracking in the air between us. "For your plan? For the seal? Or to keep me under your thumb like the rest of them?"

His gaze flicked away for a brief moment, landing on a battered wooden table across the room. On it lay a small black case the kind that didn’t belong in a place this run-down. Something about it tugged at my mind, a phantom familiarity I couldn’t quite grasp.

"You’re angry," he said finally, his voice low. "Good. Anger means you’re still fighting. I’d rather deal with that than the silence you wore when I first found you."

I pulled at the restraints again, the sound of the rope scraping against the metal frame echoing in the cramped room. "Untie me," I demanded, my tone cold. "If you want me to remember anything, start by treating me like I’m not your prisoner."

He walked over, leaned close enough that I could see the faint cut running from his temple to his jaw one I hadn’t noticed before. "You’re not my prisoner, Carmela," he murmured. "You’re the key. And keys don’t get to choose the doors they open."

Something in his words chilled me more than the room ever could.

My pulse quickened as the subtle rocking of the boat became more pronounced, a reminder that I was adrift and trapped on someone else’s terms. The faint hum of the engine thrummed beneath the floorboards, steady and unhurried, like the heartbeat of a predator that knew its prey had nowhere to run.

I shifted slightly, testing the restraints around my wrists. The rope had been tightened with careful precision; every tug only seemed to dig the coarse fibers deeper into my skin. A faint sting accompanied the movement, and I exhaled sharply to steady myself. Who would have known that the great Nix Dean knew exactly how to keep someone in place with ropes without drawing unnecessary blood.

On the polished nightstand beside the bed sat a crystal decanter half-filled with amber liquid, its facets catching the morning light like a thousand tiny knives. A glass rested beside it,half empty, or perhaps half full its scent carried the faint trace of aged scotch. The presence of such a thing here made my stomach twist it wasn’t just a room, it was a cage disguised in refinement.

I strained my ears for the source of the creak I’d heard moments before. Nothing followed, only the whisper of waves lapping against the hull and the muted murmur of distant voices too faint to decipher but enough to remind me I wasn’t alone on this vessel.

A thought began to form, cold and deliberate if the methamphetamine hadn’t worked on him, then either he had neutralized it... or he had never truly been as unhinged as the reports suggested. That possibility made my skin prickle.

I had slipped the drug his late uncle asked me to feed him into the jug of water in his room to prevent suspicious.. but then it was still under probability if he took it or not.

"Still dreaming of victory, Carmela?" a voice finally came, smooth yet cutting, from the doorway I hadn’t noticed swing open.

I froze.

The silhouette that stepped in carried the kind of composure only someone entirely in control could bear.

The sight of him, so at ease in his own skin, sent an involuntary chill down my spine not from desire this time, but from the gnawing realization that my plan might have failed spectacularly. His damp hair clung to his forehead, dark and tousled, the drops tracing patterns down his jaw before falling to his collarbone. The tattoos coiled like sleeping serpents, shifting as his muscles flexed with every languid step he took toward the window.

"You look surprised," he said casually, lifting the heavy drapes with two fingers to let in more of the morning light. The ocean gleamed like polished steel beyond the glass, the horizon vast and merciless. "What? Did you think a little trick like that would bring me to my knees?"

I swallowed hard, my fingers curling against the restraints that dug deeper into my skin. Impossible. I made sure the dosage was strong enough to bring down a man twice his size.

"Don’t look so pale," he continued, his voice dipped in mockery now, "I told you once you underestimate the things you don’t fully understand." He turned his gaze back to me, his eyes sharp as a blade slipping into its sheath.

"W–what did you do?" The words left my lips before I could restrain them, a brittle whisper barely carried by the salty air.

He smiled a slow, knowing, and dangerous smile. "I should be the one asking. What did you do, Carmela?" He stepped closer, his presence heavy as he leaned down just enough for me to catch the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the sea breeze. "Because whatever game you’re playing... it ends here."

My heart thudded painfully against my ribs. The room, with all its velvet and polished wood and flowers, felt less like a sanctuary now and more like a well-decorated cage.

The words slithered through the room like venom, chilling the already tense air. His smile didn’t reach his eyes those eyes were a storm now, a whirlpool of secrets I couldn’t yet name. My muscles tensed instinctively, every nerve screaming at me to prepare for whatever came next.

"My enemy?" I echoed, forcing my voice to stay steady, though my fingers itched against the restraints biting into my wrists. "So, the man who kissed me under the moonlight, who shielded me when the crosshairs were aimed at my head... was that all just a performance?"

He tilted his head, as though studying a piece of art whose meaning only he could decipher. "Performance?" he repeated, chuckling darkly. "You still think you’re the audience here, Carmela? No... you were the stage."

The words settled heavy between us, a riddle and a threat wrapped in one. I wanted to spit something back, but the weight of his presence pressed against my chest like a stone.

"Then what’s your game?" I pressed on, refusing to let the silence stretch into surrender. "If I’m the stage, what are you building? A massacre? A legacy? Or just another graveyard with a better view?"

His grin widened, sharp as a blade catching the light. "You’ll find out soon enough. But here’s the difference between us..." he leaned in, close enough for his breath to ghost over my cheek, "...you kill because you’re told to. I kill because I choose to."

A tremor ran through me not fear, not entirely, but something colder, something that warned me the man before me wasn’t Nix, not Nathan... or perhaps he was both, twisted into something worse.