Chapter 2
Victor sat in a leather armchair beside the bed, his dark eyes never leaving Sadi’s pale, bruised face. The heavy iron grip he normally maintained over his empire had completely dissolved, replaced by a dark, relentless fury directed entirely at himself. He had unleashed monsters into the city, and one of them had nearly destroyed an innocent woman over a piece of plastic.
A soft knock sounded at the heavy oak door. Paul slipped into the room, holding a small, silver encrypted flash drive wrapped in a plastic evidence bag.
"Boss," Paul murmured cautiously, keeping his head bowed. "We searched her coat. Found this tucked inside the lining of her sketchbook case. It's Arthur's drive."
Victor slowly raised his head, taking the drive from Paul’s hand. He turned it over in his palm. This tiny piece of metal was what Leyon and his thugs had beaten a young, defenseless art restorer for. This was what nearly cost Sadi her life.
"Open it," Victor instructed quietly.
Paul connected a secure terminal tablet to the bedside table, plugging in the flash drive. Within seconds, internal folders populated the screen. They contained the financial ledgers, offshore routing numbers, and encrypted communications of every corrupt official and rival syndicate leader Arthur Bennett had been trading secrets with before his death in Miami. But buried deep within a hidden partition was something else—an insurance file. A digitally signed deposition written by Arthur himself, proving that Leyon and a faction of rogue Hail enforcers had been systematically stealing millions from the enterprise behind Victor's back, framing Arthur for their crimes to cover their tracks.
Arthur hadn't been skimming from Victor. Leyon had been using Arthur as a scapegoat.
The realization hit Victor like a physical blow. Leyon hadn't just beaten Sadi out of overzealous zeal; he had beaten her because he suspected she had found the file proving he was the true traitor within the Hail organization.
"Paul," Victor said, his voice dropping into a register so cold it made the veteran enforcer shiver.
"Yes, Boss?"
"Find every man who rode with Leyon tonight. Every cousin, every associate, every silent partner tied to their crew. Drag them out of their beds. I want them brought to the primary basement by sunrise."
"And the ones who fled the warehouse?" Paul asked.
"They won't make it out of Illinois," Victor replied, standing up slowly from his chair, his tall frame radiating a terrifying aura of absolute authority. "I am going to dismantle every single rat who ever thought they could bring filth into my house."
Just then, a faint, rustling sound came from the bed.
Victor spun around. Sadi’s good eye fluttered open. She blinked sluggishly against the soft lamplight, her gaze disoriented as she stared at the high-ceilinged luxury suite instead of the cold warehouse floor. She tried to move, letting out a sharp gasp as pain flared through her cracked ribs.
"Don't move," Victor said, stepping immediately to her side, his voice dropping into its gentlest, most controlled timbre. He poured a small cup of water, slipping a straw between her swollen lips. "Easy. Sip slowly."
Sadi drank a little, her breath catching as she finally recognized the man sitting beside her. The man who owned the city. The man whose men had reduced her to a broken doll in the dirt. Panic flared in her good eye, and she tried to push herself away from him, her breath hitching in a terrified sob.
"Please... please don't hurt me anymore," she whispered, her voice cracking painfully. "I don't have anything else. Take the drive, just... please let me go."
Victor felt as though a knife had been twisted straight into his chest. He held his hands up, palms open, stepping back to give her space, ensuring she knew he posed no threat.
"Sadi, look at me," Victor said, his voice thick with a raw, agonizing remorse. "I didn't order this. The men who did that to you are dead. Leyon is gone. I give you my word as a Hail—no one will ever touch you again while I draw breath."
Sadi stared at him, her chest heaving as she measured the stark, blazing intensity in his dark eyes. She saw no cruelty there anymore—only a profound, terrifying devotion forming in the wake of a shattered monster.
"Why?" she breathed out, tears spilling over her bruised cheekbones. "Why do you care?"
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Victor reached out, his warm, calloused fingers gently brushing a stray lock of dark hair away from her forehead, his touch lighter than a feather.
"Because," Victor murmured, his eyes locking onto hers with absolute, unyielding finality, "you are the only light left in this dark city. And I am going to burn the world to the ground to keep you safe."
