Chapter 194: Chapter Ninety-Nine: An Ending Unexpected.
Chapter Ninety-Nine: An Ending Unexpected.
“Remember—whatever you do, don’t let the suspect touch your bare skin,”
Edward snapped as they burst out of the jail.
“He’s carrying a lethal compound.”
“And don’t touch ‘anything’ until special forensics clears it,”
Walter added as they piled into the cruiser.
The engine roared to life, tires screaming as Edward shot them into the empty streets.
“My guess is Lancaster,”
Walter said, scanning the report in his hands.
“He acquired the property recently. That wasn’t random.”
Edward swerved around a corner.
“Yeah,”
Remy muttered, jaw tight.
“To mock us.”
The city blurred past as they closed the distance. Walter and Edward checked their weapons in practiced silence. Edward twisted in his seat and reached down.
“Remy—firearm’s under my seat. Take it.”
Remy didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the case, hands steady despite the adrenaline pounding through his veins, and loaded the weapon as the cruiser slowed.
They rolled to a stop just as the other units arrived.
Edward was already out, voice sharp and controlled.
“Suspect is armed and dangerous. We have a hostage. No sudden moves—no one fires unless I give the order.”
Nods rippled through the team as they moved inside, boots silent against concrete. The stairwell echoed faintly as they climbed—one floor, two, three.
“Fifth floor,”
Oliver whispered into the comms.
They reached the hallway.
“Unit 538,”
Edward said quietly.
Remy’s chest tightened. His pulse hammered so loudly he was sure the others could hear it.
‘Please be alive. Please be okay.’
Edward raised his hand.
“On the count of—”
CRASH!
A violent impact shook the floor. A woman screamed from inside the loft.
Remy’s blood ran cold.
“Ileana.”
BOOM!
The door exploded inward, tearing free from its hinges as the team surged forward with weapons raised.
Wyatt stood frozen in the center of the room.
A slow, sardonic smile spread across his face.
His arm was locked around Ileana’s throat, her back pressed hard against his chest.
“Well, well,”
Wyatt drawled.
“Look what we have here.”
He glanced down at her, mock affection dripping from his voice.
“Guess I was right. Those ‘were’ your friends, Ilie. I thought this was a private party.”
Ileana struggled, clawing at his arm. Wyatt tightened his grip. The room filled with the click of safeties disengaging.
“ILEANA!”
Remy shouted, already stepping forward.
“Aht—aht—ahh, loverboy,”
Wyatt crooned.
His free hand slipped behind his back and reemerged, dusted with a fine shimmer.
“One wrong move,”
he said softly,
“and I’ll smear my happy powder all over your little girlfriend.”
Remy froze.
His legs went weak, stomach dropping as terror flooded his chest.
“Please,”
he rasped.
“Veis… let her go.”
Wyatt stiffened. His eyes flicked down to Ileana.
“Well, now,”
he said lightly.
“We really need to work on trust. You told ‘everyone’ who I am.”
Edward stepped forward, gun steady.
“Come on, Veis. There’s no way out. Let her go.”
“She’s not who you’re after,”
Edward continued.
“You don’t want to hurt—”
“Shut up!”
Wyatt snapped, suddenly feral.
“You have no ‘idea’ what I want, General. Spare me the bullshit—I’m not one of your two-bit criminals.”
His grip tightened again as agitation crept into his voice.
“You think I came to this shithole Kingdom for the weather?”
he snarled.
“It was ‘always’ about her.”
Walter moved next, deliberately lowering his weapon.
“Okay, Wyatt,”
he said calmly.
“We hear you. Then tell us why.”
He took another step closer.
“Why Ileana? What did she do to you?”
The question hung in the air. It was the same one Ileana had asked him earlier regarding Wilbur—
the one he had never answered.
\--------
Thirty minutes prior to the cops arrival.
Ileana sat frozen, Wyatt’s words echoing relentlessly in her mind.
‘Murdered.’
Her grandfather—her anchor, her protector—had been killed. And not just killed but destroyed by the very drug he had dedicated his life to erasing from the world.
Her chest tightened. Tears welled, blurring her vision.
Wyatt watched her carefully. When her breath hitched and her shoulders trembled, satisfaction flickered across his face. He rose to his feet, straightening his coat, triumph etched into every sharp line of his expression.
As he turned toward the door, Ileana spoke.
“Why?”
He stopped.
Slowly, deliberately, Wyatt turned back.
“Why did you do it?”
Her voice cracked, but she forced the words out.
“Granddad… he loved you. Why would you do this to him?”
For a moment, Wyatt said nothing. His face was eerily calm—empty.
“Love?”
he repeated softly.
Then he laughed.
“You think he ‘loved’ me?”
His voice sharpened.
“The moment that man learned who I really was, his only goal became control. He wanted to own me—reshape me—‘ruin’ me, just like he ruined my father—”
“That’s not true!”
Ileana surged to her feet.
“He loved you! He loved you like a son—”
“Son?!”
Wyatt lunged forward, fist clutching her collar as he yanked her close.
“Listen carefully, ‘little owl’,”
he snarled.
“I had one father. His name was Marlow Veis. And your precious ‘grandfather’ murdered him.”
“He murdered himself,”
Ileana shot back, refusing to look away.
“Shut up!”
“He took his own life.”
“Shut. Up!”
“He abandoned you, Wyatt!”
“SHUT UP!”
Wyatt roared, eyes wild, breath ragged.
“You don’t know anything! My father loved me—”
“How do you know?”
Ileana asked quietly. The words cut through him. Wyatt froze. His grip loosened.
“What… did you just say?”
Her eyes burned with fury now.
“How do you know he loved you? You never even met him. He left you in that orphanage—”
“That wasn’t his fault! If they hadn’t—”
“He left you there a full year ‘before’ the medical board banned his compound.”
The color drained from Wyatt’s face. His hands began to shake.
“You’re lying,”
he whispered.
Ileana’s expression hardened into something cold and absolute.
“Am I?”
Wyatt shook his head violently.
“Yes! Wilbur showed me the records! My father didn’t abandon me—I was placed there after he died! Wilbur said—”
“He lied.”
Wyatt staggered back.
“You were born Wyatt Dylan Veis,”
Ileana continued, each word precise.
“November 3rd, 2032.”
The room felt suddenly too small.
“You were two years old when he left you. But you were underweight, so he falsified your age. Your kingdom’s laws were stricter for older children. That’s how desperate he was to get rid of you.”
Wyatt’s eyes were bloodshot now.
Barely breathing, he whispered,
“Why didn’t Wilbur tell me?”
“Because he loved you,”
Ileana said.
“And how do you tell a child that his father loved his ‘brilliance’ more than his own son? He wanted to protect you.”
Her voice broke.
“And you destroyed him anyway.”
Tears spilled down Wyatt’s face.
Memories flooded in—Wilbur’s warm smiles, his praise, his patience. The steady belief. The unconditional pride.
Wyatt had tried so hard to be the man Wilbur believed he could be before learning the truth about his father.
But he’d always known something inside him was wrong.
Dark. Twisted. Uncontrollable.
It wasn’t his fault. It was in his blood.
And then he looked at Ileana.
And hatred bloomed.
Why was she different?
Why did she get Wilbur’s name, his legacy, his love?
Her family was just as broken—her own father had tried to have her raped and killed. Rachel was rotten to the core. The brothers were fools.
So why was Ileana still pure?
Why did she get to become everything he never could?
Wyatt straightened. Something inside him settled.
As long as she lived, he would never truly surpass Wilbur’s shadow.
A slow, sardonic smile curled his lips.
“Well,”
he said lightly,
“I suppose all of that doesn’t matter anymore.”
Ileana’s heart sank. For a moment, she’d hoped—foolishly—that there was something human left in him.
Then the sirens began.
Wyatt rushed to the window. Police cars flooded the street below.
“Fuck!”
He spun around.
“Your boyfriend’s smarter than I thought.”
Hope surged through Ileana. Remy.
Before she could react, Wyatt yanked the chains from her waist. She stumbled, trying to fight him, but he was faster.
“Move again and I’ll kill you,”
he hissed.
“This is your fault. You brought them here.”
“Wyatt—you don’t even know if they’re here for you—”
“Don’t play stupid with me!”
She bolted.
He grabbed her by the collar, slamming her back; causing the vase to shatter.
“Get off me!”
The door exploded inward. Police flooded the room.
And then—
Remy.
He stormed in with them, eyes locking onto her instantly.
Ileana’s knees nearly gave out.
He’d found her.
\-------
Back to the present moment.
“Tell us, Wyatt,”
Edward said evenly.
“Tell us what she’s done. We’re listening.”
Wyatt sneered. He knew they weren’t. This was a stall—nothing more. The moment he let her go; they would end him. He leaned closer, his grip loosening just enough as he pressed his face near her hair.
Remy’s jaw clenched. His eyes darkened as he watched, powerless, every instinct screaming for him to move.
“Wyatt,”
Edward continued, his voice calm, controlled as he stepped closer.
“Let Ileana go. It’s over. We know everything. Everyone has turned on you. This ends now.”
Wyatt’s eyes flickered. Then he smiled.
A slow, crooked smile.
“You’re right, General,”
he said softly.
“I suppose I’m going away for a very long time.”
The room went deathly still.
“Well,”
he added lightly,
“if that’s the case… I might as well finish what I came here to do.”
Edward’s brows drew together.
“What do you mean—”
“Did you know,”
Wyatt interrupted,
“that I almost changed my mind?”
He glanced down at Ileana, his expression unreadable.
“She’s… captivating.”
Then he looked at Remy.
“I can see why you’re so attached.”
“No—”
Remy stepped forward.
Too late.
Wyatt lifted his hand and brushed his fingers against Ileana’s cheek.
“NO!”
Remy’s shout tore through the room.
Sound fractured. Ileana’s body went rigid all at once—like a switch had been flipped. Her muscles locked. Her breath caught. The floor rushed up as her knees gave out, and she would have fallen if Remy hadn’t caught her.
“Ileana—!”
She barely heard him. The world blurred at the edges.
“Now! Take him down!”
The officers surged forward, tackling Wyatt to the ground, wrenching his arms behind his back.
“Get the spray!”
“Call it in!”
“Move!”
“Ileana, stay with us!”
Voices overlapped, distorted, fading. The room felt distant—hollow—as if she were sinking underwater.
The last thing she saw, through the narrowing dark, was Wyatt’s face.
That manic smile. That broken, satisfied laughter.
Then everything went black.