Chapter 224
Devon's POV
I carried Aria's limp body into the suite, feeling her burning skin against my chest. Her face was pale, lips slightly parted as shallow breaths escaped them. Carefully, I laid her on the bed, my fingers lingering on her forehead longer than necessary.
"Her temperature's still rising," I said to Marcus, trying to keep my voice steady despite the rage threatening to consume me. "The bullet wound is infected. She needs antibiotics now."
Marcus nodded and left immediately. I remained beside her, watching the rise and fall of her chest. Seeing Aria like this—vulnerable, hurt because of her own recklessness—awakened something primal within me. The thought of what could have happened if I'd arrived minutes later made my blood run cold.
When the antibiotics arrived, I personally administered them, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. I sat beside her bed, occasionally touching her forehead to check her temperature, my eyes constantly scanning the room out of habit. Even here, in this secure suite, I couldn't let my guard down. Not when someone had dared to touch what was mine.
Hours passed. I remained vigilant, watching as the fever slowly released its grip on her. She stirred occasionally, her eyelids fluttering, but never fully waking. Better this way—she needed rest, and I needed time to contain my fury before facing her.
"Mr. Kane." Marcus's voice broke my reverie. "Mr. Santos has arrived."
I felt my jaw tighten. "Bring him in."
The man who entered was pathetic—sweating through his expensive suit, eyes darting nervously. Victor Santos, owner of the club where Scarlett worded. A man who should have known better than to cross me.
"Mr. Kane," Santos's voice quavered. "I came as soon as I heard. This terrible misunderstanding—"
"Misunderstanding?" I kept my voice deliberately soft, satisfaction coursing through me as I watched him flinch. "You allowed your establishment to be used to drug and abduct Ms. Harper."
Santos pulled out a blue velvet box, his hands trembling visibly. "A token of my deepest regrets. The necklace is worth three million. I had no idea—"
I took the box without looking at it. Trinkets meant nothing. "Where is she?"
"My men are bringing her up now. She was... reluctant."
When Scarlett Harper was pushed into the room, her leg bandaged and clothes disheveled, I felt nothing but cold contempt. She immediately fell to her knees before me, eyes wide with fear.
"Please, I can explain—" she began, before Marcus silenced her.
Santos's face twisted in anger. "This bitch told me she just wanted to teach her sister a lesson! I didn't know she planned to sell her overseas. I run a legitimate business, Mr. Kane. I would never—"
I silenced him with a look. "You can go now."
As Marcus escorted Santos out, I approached Scarlett, noting with satisfaction how she cowered before me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement from the bedroom—Aria was awake, watching. Good. Let her see what happens to those who betray her.
I turned away from Scarlett and walked back to the bedroom. Aria needed me more than this pathetic creature deserved my attention. Without a word, I began changing the dressing on her wounded shoulder, noticing how she instinctively tried to pull away.
"Stay still," I ordered, struggling to keep my voice even. "Unless you want to tear the wound open again."
She bit her lip as I carefully removed her blood-stained shirt, my movements clinical yet gentle. Her skin prickled under my touch despite the pain. My face remained impassive as I cleaned the injury, but my eyes betrayed my anger.
"You just escaped human traffickers and you're already trying to be difficult again?" My voice was glacial. "Is that how this works with you, Aria?"
She gripped the sheets, watching my focused profile as I worked. "I had to find out what Scarlett knew about Victoria."
My fingers stilled momentarily. "And if Ryan hadn't called me? If I hadn't gotten there in time? They were taking you to international waters, Aria."
"I know," she whispered, the reality of how close she'd come to disappearing forever finally hitting her.
"Do you?" My eyes locked with hers, searching. "Do you understand what would have happened?"
She met my gaze unflinchingly. "If they had succeeded in taking me away, I would have found a way to end my life rather than let them use me."
The glass of water I was holding shattered in my grip. She flinched as shards scattered across the marble floor. In an instant, I was looming over her, my face transformed by a fury I could no longer contain.
"You'll do what?" My voice was dangerously low.
Despite her shock at my reaction, she didn't back down. "I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of—"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence." I moved closer, my breath warm against her face. "Is that what you think your life is worth? Something to be thrown away?"
She stared at me, bewildered by my intensity. This wasn't the calculated anger of a business partner whose investment was threatened. This was something raw, something personal.
I abruptly turned away, stalking toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. My shoulders were rigid, hands clenched at my sides. In the reflection of the glass, I caught a glimpse of my own expression—not the cold mask of the ruthless businessman, but something vulnerable and exposed.
"You think your death wouldn't matter to me?" I asked, my voice barely audible.
The question hung in the space between us, weighted with implications neither of us was prepared to acknowledge. I stood there, silhouetted against the night, suddenly aware that Aria Harper had become more than a contract, more than a business arrangement. The realization left me feeling exposed in a way I hadn't experienced in years.