"Hurt me," a woman's voice said coldly, "and you will never see her again."
A low chuckle answered her.
"And what makes you think you have the power to make that threat?" the man replied, his words clipped beneath a thick Russian accent. "Last I checked, you are as much of a fugitive as she is."
Silence followed for a beat.
"Don't test me," Camilla said.
The warning came out quieter this time, but far more dangerous.
"I'll come get her," he said, the determination in his voice unmistakable.
Alex.
A low groan escaped my throat before I could stop it. My head throbbed violently, every pulse of pain reminding me just how hard I had been knocked around. God, I wanted to speak to him. To see him. to know he was actually here.
For a moment, I wasn't sure if I had imagined it. If the voice had only been another fragment of a dream dragged up by my battered mind.
But then I felt it.
Their eyes on me.
Slowly, painfully, I forced my eyelids to open.
The world came back in fragments. The cold stone beneath my cheek, the metallic taste of blood lingering in my mouth, the dim overhead light that flickered against the walls of the cell.
I hadn't moved.
I was still lying exactly where I had collapsed.
Across the narrow space, Camilla stood just outside the bars, one hand holding a phone in front of her. The faint glow of the screen lit the sharp angles of her face, her expression tense but controlled. And on that screen—
Alex.
My gaze struggled to focus, but I knew it was him immediately. The dark hair, the hard set of his jaw, the familiar intensity in his eyes as he stared straight through the camera.
Straight at me.
His expression changed the moment he realized my eyes were open. Relief flashing there, before it hardened against into something colder. More dangerous.
"Princess," he said, his voice dropping lower, rougher than before. "I'm coming to get you."
"Don't."
Even through a phone screen, it felt like he was standing right beside me, close enough that I could almost feel the heat of him. The familiar weight of his presence that had always brought me a sense of safety.
His jaw tightened. "I don't give a shit," he bit out. "We're ending this. Once and for all."
"Alex, don't," I repeated, but the words dissolved as a violent fit of coughing tore through me.
My lungs burned. My vision blurred.
When I finally forced myself to look back at the screen, his expression had changed. The anger was still there, simmering just beneath the surface but now it was threaded with something deeper. Something that made my chest ache.
He was fearing for me.
"Please," I whispered hoarsely. "We've already come this far. Don't throw it away now."
My fingers curled weakly against the cold floor as I struggled to keep my eyes open.
"Finish the plan," I said, forcing the words out before the exhaustion dragged me under again. "From your side."
My gaze locked onto his through the small glowing screen.
"I can handle myself here," I murmured. "You know I can."
A faint, tired smile tugged at the corner of my lips.
"I'll find a way."
"Can I trust her?" Alex asked, his gaze shifting slightly as he referred to Camilla.
My eyes drifted toward my best friend. She stood rigid near the bars of the cell, the phone still in her hand. There was something apologetic in the way she looked at me now, as if the last few hours had forced her to confront truths she never wanted to believe.
I gave a small nod despite the ache radiating through my skull.
"I'll be fine," I said quietly. "I promise."
Alex studied me for another moment, as if he was trying to decide whether to believe me or not.
Finally, he nodded once.
"I'll send someone to keep an eye on things," he said. "Until then...I'd like to speak with Camilla."
My friend hesitated, then shifted the phone so the camera faced her instead.
"What?" she asked, guarded.
Alex leaned back slightly on the other end of the call, his expression sharpening into the cold, calculating look I knew all too well. The one he wore when he was thinking several moves ahead of everyone else.
"We already have enough to bury your father," he said evenly. "We've spread out the financial records, witness accounts, the siphoned funds. Many are angry, there's no way he can worm his way out now."
Camilla's jaw tightened. "I know."
"But that's not enough," Alex continued. "That only removes one piece from the board. Your father was just the front. The structure behind him is still intact."
My grandfather.
Camilla crossed her arms. "So what exactly are you asking me to do?"
"I want you to find out everything you can," Alex said. "Your father's dealings with him. Their partners. Shell companies. Offshore accounts. Anyone who's been helping them keep this empire running."
Her eyes narrowed. "That's not just a few names."
"I know."
"What you're talking about could take weeks."
Alex's voice turned colder.
"Not when they trust you."
Silence stretched between them for a moment.
"We're not just taking down Arturo," he continued. "I want the entire organization exposed. Every partner. Every business they've infected. By the time this ends, there won't be anyone left willing to stand beside them."
My grandfather had spent decades building that network, and Alex had intended to burn it all to the ground.
Camilla glanced at me again, the weight of that decision settling over her.
"What about Sol?" she asked quietly.
Alex's gaze shifted back to the screen, locking with mine. For a moment, the ruthless strategist disappeared, replaced by something far more personal.
"I'm getting my wife back," he said. "Whether she likes it or not."
Then his voice hardened again.
"And when I do...there won't be anything left for her grandfather to rule."