Damian Wolfe
I watched the door close behind her.
Didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
The room was silent, but inside my head, it was chaos.
She knew.
Not everything—but enough to set the whole house of cards on fire.
Monarch Syndicate.
I hadn't heard those words aloud in years. They weren't whispered in boardrooms or typed in documents. They existed like rot beneath foundation—unseen, but devastating once disturbed.
And Aria just took a sledgehammer to it.
I moved to the bar, poured a drink I didn't need, and let the silence bleed into my thoughts. Her eyes had been full of betrayal—and something worse. Conviction. She was no longer playing defense. She was starting to hunt.
And the worst part?
I admired the hell out of it.
She wanted answers. She deserved them. But if I gave her the full truth, she'd never forgive me.
---
I took a slow sip, watching the city lights flicker through the glass. The problem wasn't just that her father had dealings with Monarch—it was that so did mine. And unlike Alexander Vale, Jonathan Wolfe hadn't gotten out. He'd pulled me in by the collar, told me to shut my mouth, smile for the cameras, and pretend we were still in control.
We weren't.
Not then. Not now.
My phone buzzed. Jasper.
"She's starting to unravel it. You'll need to make a decision soon."
No shit.
But Jasper wasn't wrong. Aria wasn't just poking around anymore. She was inches away from the truth—and when she uncovered the full extent of her father's entanglement with Monarch, she'd see exactly who'd been trying to keep her blind.
And that would put her in real danger.
I downed the rest of the drink and grabbed my coat. If Monarch caught even a whiff that she was getting close, they'd silence her without hesitation. Elena Ward was already a risky connection—dangerous, messy, and not someone I could control.
But Aria?
She was mine to protect.
Even if she didn't want it.
Even if she hated me.
Because if she kept digging—if she found the file I buried deep in my father's archive, the one that linked Alexander Vale, Monarch, and Wolfe Enterprises—there'd be no going back.
Not for her.
Not for me.
I slipped into the elevator, mind already calculating my next move. I needed to keep her close—closer than ever. If she wouldn't let me shield her, I'd have to use the only leverage I had left:
Myself.
Because the game was shifting now.
And wolves?
We don't flinch when the fire comes. We walk straight into it.
---
Jasper
She was slipping.
And not just in the way Damian thought—no, Aria wasn't just emotionally compromised.
She was becoming dangerous.
I watched her apartment from across the street, a cigarette burning low between my fingers—not because I needed it, but because it gave me something to do with my hands. I hated standing still. Hated not pulling strings. But this... this wasn't a night for action.
It was a night for watching the storm gather.
She thought she could control it. The pain, the memories, him.
She was wrong.
I tossed the cigarette, crushed it under my boot, and turned back to the black SUV waiting in the alley. The driver didn't speak as I climbed in. I didn't pay him to think, just to drive. My phone buzzed once.
Blocked Number.
Of course.
I answered.
A voice filtered through—familiar, ice-cold.
"She's getting close. You told me you could keep her in line."
"I still can."
"If she finds out what her father did, the Syndicate won't just bury her. They'll bury anyone connected to her—including you."
I smiled. "That's why I'm ten steps ahead."
A pause. Then:
"And Wolfe?"
"He's compromised. Emotionally entangled. I'll handle him if I have to."
"Make sure you do."
The line went dead.
I stared at my reflection in the tinted glass, something cold curling in my gut.
Alexander Vale had made promises he couldn't keep.
And I'd been the one left cleaning up his mess—keeping Aria alive, protected, and blind. Until now.
She wanted answers. Damian wanted to protect her.
And me?
I just wanted to survive the fallout.
I had walked into this years ago thinking I could control them both. That I could puppet the heiress and the heir, use their damage to dig out the rot that Monarch had left behind.
But it was getting harder.
Because the girl I once saved in the ashes of her father's ruin wasn't the same girl anymore.
She was becoming something... harder. Sharper. Unstoppable.
And if she figured out I was still working with the Syndicate—even on the margins—she'd burn me to the ground.
And she'd be right to.
But not yet.
I took out my second phone—the one neither of them knew about—and typed a short message.
She's meeting with Elena Ward again tomorrow. If we're moving, it has to be now.
I hit send. Closed the burner. Pocketed the guilt like a weapon.
This wasn't about loyalty anymore.
It was about surviving the fire.
Even if I had to walk through it alone.