Sterling didn't speak.
He simply handed Kieran the tablet.
The screen lit up.
Jason was on his knees.
But it wasn't the blood that twisted Kieran's gut — it was the presentation.
Harsh, clinical LED panels flooded the screen, making the underground chamber look like a high-end studio.
And there, in the center, was Dante. He was wearing a grey Armani suit, looking as if he were headed to a gala, calmly adjusting a strand of his slicked-back hair while Jason's screams tore through the speakers.
"You didn't capture my smile," Dante's voice purred through the speakers
Kieran watched, his knuckles turning white as he saw his cousin—the man he'd shared blood with—treat the torture of Jason like a film set. But it was the conversation that broke him.
He heard Jason whisper: "She... she has a son. She's... married."
The camera zoomed in on Dante's face. The shift in his mismatched eyes—one darker than the other—was terrifying. The "Artist of Death" was gone, replaced by a possessive demon.
Jason begged. Jason cried. Jason bled.
And Dante… smiled.
When the knife went in, Sterling instinctively shifted his weight, ready to stop the video.
Kieran raised a hand.
"Leave it."
The blade plunged again.
And again.
And again.
The screen went black.
Just outside the heavy oak door, a shadow shifted. Lena, Adrien's caretaker, pressed her ear to the wood.
She had seen enough.
Heard enough.
So Aurielle is alive…
And Jason?
From what she'd just witnessed, there was no doubt about it.
Jason was dead.
This was bad.
Very bad.
Silence returned—but it wasn't empty.
It was heavy. Suffocating.
Kieran slowly exhaled through his nose.
Dante knew this video would be found. He knew it would reach Kieran.
"If Dante has Aurielle…" Kieran said quietly.
Sterling didn't interrupt.
"…then she's not a hostage."
He turned slowly.
"She's the prize."
Dante had always been unhinged. Brilliant. Artistic in his cruelty.
But obsession?
That was new.
And dangerous.
"If she's with him," Kieran continued, voice tightening just slightly, "every second she breathes is borrowed time."
He looked at Sterling sharply.
"She wouldn't survive Dante's attention."
Sterling hesitated. "Sir… Dante doesn't usually keep women long."
Kieran's eyes darkened.
"That's what terrifies me."
He knew he was no saint—he was a man of blood and shadows. But Dante? Dante was the devil's favorite son. If Aurielle was in his hands, she wasn't just in danger; she was in hell.
"Get the cars," Kieran said. The "Devil of the City" was gone. Something much colder had taken its place. "Bring the heavy artillery. I don't want a rescue mission. I want a massacre."
Minutes later, black vehicles sliced through the coastal road toward Dante's beach mansion—silent, deadly, inevitable.
The gates were already open.
That alone made Kieran's stomach drop.
Kieran barked. "I want the docks covered. If a single boat tries to leave, blow it out of the water."
"Listen carefully. "Two-man teams. Sweep wide. No heroics. Dante likes traps—if something looks easy, it's a lie."
"If you see Dante, do not engage—I want his heart for myself. But if you find my wife... you bring her to me unharmed, or you don't come back at all. Move!"
He turned to Sterling.
"You take the west wing. Thermal and sound. If you see anything move—"
"Neutralize," Sterling finished.
Kieran nodded.
"I'll take upstairs."
Kieran moved toward the grand staircase, his pulse thundering. He was terrified,
What if Dante hurt her?
I'm coming for you, Aurielle. Just hold on.
He cleared the rooms one by one. Room one: Empty. Room two: Empty.
"Sir," a voice crackled through comms. "Nothing on the ground floor."
"Same here," another added.
Kieran's steps slowed as he reached the last door on the upper level.
He kicked the door open, his finger on the trigger, but the sight inside made him freeze.
It was bathed in a deep, suffocating red. The "Red Room." Kieran didn't flinch at the restraints or the silk whips—he knew his cousin's depravity. His eyes went straight to the massive, velvet-draped bed.
The sheets were tangled. Ruined. The scent of Aurielle was heavy here.
"Aurielle?" he whispered, his voice cracking.
He stepped toward the bed. There, resting on the center of the pillow like a mocking trophy, was a small, glittering object.
He reached out, his fingers trembling as he picked it up.
It was her engagement ring.
She wasn't here. Dante hadn't just escaped; he had let Kieran get close enough to smell her, only to rip her away again. He'd known they were coming. The whole mansion was a stage, and Kieran had just walked into the final act.
"No," Kieran breathed. "No, no, no..."
"Sir!" Sterling shouted from the doorway. "The thermal scans are dead. They left by sea twenty minutes ago. We missed them."
"NO!"
The roar that ripped from Kieran's throat wasn't the sound of a King. It was the sound of a wounded animal.
His legs gave out. The man who ruled the city's underworld crashed to his knees in the center of the Red Room. He clutched the ring to his chest, his head bowing as a violent, uncontrollable shaking took over his body.
Sterling looked at his boss and felt a chill. He realized then that all the talk of "obsession" and "assets" had been a lie Kieran told himself.
This wasn't just an obsession.
This was a man who had finally realized he'd lost his heart, just as he realized he actually had one. Kieran didn't just want her back; he was dying without her.