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148

Alex’s POV

I laid Scarlet on the bed, adjusting her limp body carefully. My jaw clenched as I brushed strands of hair from her face. She was too pale, her breathing shallow, her body too damn fragile.

"Scarlet," I muttered, gripping her wrist, feeling her pulse—weak but steady.

She scared the hell out of me.

I reached for a damp cloth, pressing it against her forehead. Her lips parted slightly, her face relaxed in unconsciousness, but the sight didn’t ease the weight pressing against my chest.

I wasn’t supposed to care this much.

I wasn't supposed to let her get to me.

And yet, here I was, sitting beside her, watching her like I couldn’t afford to lose her.

My mind drifted back to our fight, the fire in her eyes, the way she pushed back against me—always challenging, never backing down.

And now, here she was, vulnerable.

I ran a hand down my face, frustration coiling inside me.

She should have told me about my father.

Scarlet was reckless, but my father? He was dangerous.

A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts. My beta, Darren, stepped inside, face grim.

"I found out how your father got to her."

I turned to him, expression sharp. "Talk."

Darren handed me a small black device—a tracker. "He planted this on you the last time you visited."

I exhaled through my nose, gripping the damn thing so tightly it nearly cracked.

"He’s watching," Darren continued. "Knows every move you make."

My stomach twisted. Of course, the old bastard was still playing his games.

I glanced back at Scarlet. She didn’t even know what she was caught up in.

"I need to handle this," I muttered, standing up.

Darren nodded. "Be careful."

I didn’t answer. I just grabbed my jacket and stormed out.

The prison smelled like sweat, metal, and regret.

I hated this place. Hated the memories it dug up.

I walked through the cold corridors, my boots echoing against the concrete floor. The guards knew better than to stop me.

I reached the visitation room, and there he was—behind the glass, smirking like he still owned the damn world.

"Alex," my father drawled, leaning back in his chair, amused. "Did you miss me?"

I sat down, resting my forearms on the table. "Stay the hell away from Scarlet."

His smirk didn’t falter. "I was just curious about my future daughter-in-law. She’s… interesting."

My fists clenched. "You don’t go near her again."

He chuckled. "And what will you do if I don’t listen? You can’t control everything, son."

"I can control whether you keep breathing," I shot back, my voice low.

His amusement flickered, but it didn’t disappear. "Touchy, aren’t we?"

I leaned closer. "You’re tracking me. Why?"

He sighed dramatically. "Because you’re getting distracted."

"I’m handling it."

"Are you?" He tilted his head. "Because from where I’m sitting, you’re falling for the enemy."

My jaw locked.

He leaned forward. "I warned you, Alex. Revenge first, emotions later. But look at you—playing house with her. Sleeping beside her. Protecting her."

I stayed silent.

His lips curled into something cruel. "Tell me, have you even thought about your mother lately?"

A sharp pang hit my chest.

Of course, I thought about her. Every damn day.

My father saw it in my eyes, and he took the opening like I knew he would.

"She screamed for help, Alex," he murmured. "She begged."

I gritted my teeth.

"While they watched." His smirk faded. "While they did nothing."

Rage boiled beneath my skin, threatening to erupt.

I stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. "I’m handling it," I said again, voice deadly calm.

His eyes darkened. "Then stop digging into the case. Stop trying to rewrite history. Focus on the plan. Destroy them."

I turned without another word, walking away.

"Remember who you are, Alex!" he called after me. "You’re my son. Act like it!"

I didn’t stop.

I walked out of that prison feeling like my entire world had just cracked open.

For years, I followed his orders. I believed his words. I let him shape me into something I thought was necessary—a weapon, a force of vengeance. I spent my life hunting down the people he told me were responsible for my mother’s death.

But what if I had been wrong?

What if I had wasted my years hurting the very people who tried to save her?

My steps faltered as the weight of that realization hit me like a sledgehammer.

I felt sick.

I clenched my fists, trying to push the thought away. But it wouldn’t leave.

I turned around sharply, heading back into the prison. The guards hesitated when they saw me, but one look at my face had them stepping aside.

I slammed open the visiting room door.

My father was still sitting there, smirking like he had all the answers.

"Did you kill her?"

The words shot out of me before I could stop them.

His smirk disappeared.

For the first time, he looked… caught off guard. "What did you just say?"

I took a step closer, my body tense. "Did you kill Mom?"

His expression darkened. "Watch what you’re saying, boy."

I barely saw it coming.

One second, I was waiting for his answer, my whole world tilting on its damn axis. The next, his fist connected with my jaw, snapping my head to the side.

I stumbled back, the iron tang of blood flooding my mouth.

"You dare accuse me?" My father’s face twisted in fury, his chair scraping against the concrete as he stood. His entire body shook with rage. "After everything I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me? With doubt?"

I wiped the blood from my lip, breathing heavily. My heart pounded, but not from fear. Not anymore.

I saw him now. The man I had worshiped. The father I had followed without question. He wasn’t the god I once believed him to be. He was just a bitter, vengeful old man with too much blood on his hands.

"Answer me," I growled, forcing myself to meet his glare. "Did you kill her?"

His nostrils flared. "Your mother was weak, Alex. She let people walk over her. She let them ruin her. I tried to make her strong, but she—" He stopped, fists clenched.

I felt something in my chest crack wide open.

He wasn’t denying it. Not really.

"You killed her." My stomach churned, but I refused to break eye contact. "I spent my whole life hunting down people who tried to save her. You turned me into your personal weapon, and for what? A lie?"

He sneered, his lip curling. "You’re weak, just like her." His words were filled with venom, with disgust. "I wasted my years raising you. A pathetic excuse for a son."

His words should’ve hurt.

But they didn’t.

Not anymore.

I took a slow step back, my body trembling—not from fear, not even from rage. It was something else entirely.

Relief.

Because I wasn’t his anymore.

His grip on me had shattered the moment I realized the truth.

He saw it, too. His eyes darkened, knowing he had lost me. "You walk away from this, Alex, and you’re nothing." His voice was sharp, dangerous. "You let that girl ruin you, and I will make sure you regret it for the rest of your life."

Scarlet.

My father never said her name, but I knew exactly who he meant.

And I knew exactly what he was capable of.

"Stay away from her," I warned, turning for the door.

"Or what?" He let out a bitter laugh. "You’re nothing without me. You think you can take me down? You think those fools will follow you over me?"

I paused at the door, glancing over my shoulder. "I don’t need anyone to follow me." My grip tightened on the handle. "I just need you to fall."

I walked out before he could say another word.

The drive home felt longer than it should have. My hands gripped the wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. My entire body was tense, my mind running in circles.

How much damage had I done? How many lives had I destroyed because I trusted him?

And worse—could I ever fix it?

By the time I pulled up to my house, the weight of everything had settled deep in my chest. The lights were off except for the dim glow in Scarlet’s room. She was probably asleep.

I leaned my head against the steering wheel, exhaling sharply.

Scarlet.

I’d already put her through enough. She hated me. And she had every damn right to.

But my father? If he even thought of touching her…

No.

I couldn’t let that happen.

I pulled out my phone, scrolling through my contacts until I found the name I hadn’t called in years. My thumb hovered over it for a second before I finally pressed dial.

It rang twice before a deep voice answered.

"Alex."

I swallowed, my throat dry. "Uncle. I need to see you."

There was silence on the other end. Then a slow, knowing exhale. "You finally ready?"

"Yeah."

I clenched my jaw, looking up at Scarlet’s window.