Chapter 36: Chapter XXXVI

The fireplace in the east study crackled quietly as dusk began to crawl over the Guerrero estate. Shadows played across the shelves, spilling long and low onto the parquet floor. Callum stood by the window, his hand curled around a tumbler of whiskey, eyes wandering with thought. He didn’t flinch when the door opened behind him.

Alex stepped inside, closing the door with a quiet click. His sharp brown suit was immaculate, his tie loosened just slightly—just enough to remind Callum that his brother had spent the day smoothing over the family’s image with donors and board members.

“Nice of you to finally sign your name to something, little brother,” Alex said dryly, nodding toward Callum’s wedding band.

Callum turned, lips pressing into a line. “It was necessary.”

“Was it?” Alex crossed to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a drink. “Because Mother thinks you’ve fallen madly in love with a girl from nowhere, and the press is ready to name her the queen of your empire. That’s more than necessary. That’s a bit reckless if you ask me.”

Callum bristled, but Alex raised a hand before he could snap back.

“I’m not here to fight,” Alex continued. “I’m here because we need to talk—before this spirals any further.”

Callum arched a brow.

Alex stepped closer. “This arrangement… whatever deal you’ve made with Ariana… Mother cannot know the truth. She’s already asking questions. You think she won’t smell the lie eventually?”

“I’ve handled her before.”

“This isn’t a matter of handling,” Alex said firmly. “It’s about survival. If she finds out you staged a marriage to cover your tracks—when the family’s already under scrutiny—she’ll bury you. And she’ll drag Ariana through the mud doing it.”

A flicker of emotion passed through Callum’s face, too fast to catch. He drained the rest of his drink, placing the tumbler down with a quiet clink.

“She won’t find out.”

Alex sighed. “Then make sure of it. Keep Ariana close. Keep her out of headlines. And for God’s sake—don’t let her see how dark this is about to get.”

Callum looked over at him. “She’s stronger than you think.”

“She’d have to be,” Alex muttered, “to be with you.”

They let that hang between them for a beat, then Alex moved to the heavy oak desk and pulled out a folder. It was unmarked but thick—stuffed with photos, coordinates, a list of names.

“Now,” Alex said, flipping it open, “let’s talk about Mr. Prestley.”

Callum’s gaze sharpened. “Go on.”

Alex tapped a photograph. It showed a man in his early sixties, sharp features, slicked-back silver hair, and a mouth that never seemed to smile. “Milanna’s father. Controls the southern shipping routes and a decent piece of the gun-running into Tulum. He’s been expanding. Quietly. But we know he’s behind the interference in our East Coast lines. The last shipment was sabotaged by his crew.”

“He’s the one pulling Milanna’s strings,” Callum said, jaw tight. “She came crying to him after I shut her down.”

Alex nodded. “And now he’s playing a longer game. He’s not coming at you directly—not yet. But we’ve seen subtle shifts in his proxies—subsidized bribes, new faces in cartel corridors we once had peace with.”

“We can’t let him dig in,” Callum said. “If he establishes roots in California, we’ll be at war before the season’s out.”

Alex slid over a blueprint.

“This is his warehouse. Santa Rosa, about ten miles off grid. Armed guards rotate every four hours, satellite blind spots during the second shift. If we’re going to get intel, we do it now.”

Callum studied the schematic. “Are you suggesting an infiltration?”

Alex nodded. “Yes, in and out. Grab what we can. Documents. Hard drives. Anything that ties him to Milanna’s recent moves—or to the warehouse leak back home.”

A beat passed.

“You’re going in?” Callum asked.

“I’ll lead from the perimeter,” Alex said. “But I need you inside. You have the eyes for detail. The sense to find the pressure points.”

Callum was quiet for a moment. Then, he nodded. “I’ll go.”

“Good. We get the plans to the warehouse so we can strategize properly.”

Alex gathered the folder again, but as he moved toward the door, he paused.

“And Callum?” he said, not looking back.

“Yeah?”

“Whatever’s happening with you and Ariana… make sure she knows where you stand. This world has a way of chewing up the people we keep close.”

Callum’s hand tightened slightly around the edge of the desk.

“She’s not collateral,” he said softly. “Not to me.”

Alex said nothing. Then he left, the door shutting behind him with a soft but final thud.

Alone in the fading light, Callum stared down at the map—at the lines and corners of a war that had only just begun. Behind those walls, The Prestley’s were was waiting.

And so was whatever darkness Milanna had promised would come next.