Chapter 26: The Enemy’s Plot
Chapter 26: The Enemy’s Plot
The gentle purr of the car engine resonated softly in the night, merging with the rhythmic whispers of Dysis’s calm breathing. From the driver’s seat, Alexander glanced at her, noticing her head tilted slightly in his direction, with strands of her honey-brown hair cascading over her face. Her cheeks retained a rosy hue from the wine, and a serene look occupied her face, absent of the defensive defiance she usually exhibited.
As the Levi mansion appeared, Alexander's hold on the steering wheel grew firmer. The words she’d murmured before drifting off remained in his thoughts like a lingering tune. “Please don’t hit me, Dad… I’m sorry.” He couldn’t dispel the rage it provoked, an anger aimed not at her, but at the man who caused her suffering.
Pulling into the circular driveway, he brought the car to a halt. Exiting quietly, Alexander moved to her side and opened the door. Dysis didn’t stir as he reached down to lift her, her head naturally nestling against his shoulder. She felt light in his arms, her warmth almost unfamiliar against the cold exterior he’d built around himself.
As he carried her toward the mansion, her soft murmur reached his ears once more, almost inaudible. “Don’t hurt me… please…” A single tear rolled down her cheek, and Alexander paused briefly, his jaw tightening. He swore silently to himself that no one would ever lay a hand on her again.
The large oak doors swung open as he neared, a guard moving aside to allow him entry. The vast foyer was serene, the chandelier illuminating the marble floors with a soft light. The stillness was broken by the piercing sound of heels striking the ground.
Sofie Stone emerged at the bottom of the staircase, her arms folded over her chest, a measured smile playing on her lips. Wearing a sophisticated black dress that accentuated her shape, she appeared completely the self-assured, graceful woman she strove to become.
.
“Well,” she drawled, her green eyes narrowing on Dysis’s sleeping form in Alexander’s arms. “This is quite the sight. I didn’t know you’d started playing nursemaid, Alexander.”
He didn’t even spare her a glance as he continued toward the stairs. “Go to bed, Sofie,” he said curtly, his voice low and commanding.
Sofie’s smile faltered, but her irritation quickly masked it. “Funny,” she replied, stepping into his path. “You’re willing to carry her up the stairs, but you’ve never so much as looked at me like that. I know you don’t care about her, she just like the rest of us…you don’t care about anyone ”
Alexander stopped abruptly, his icy-blue eyes locking onto her. His glare was sharp enough to cut through steel. “Step aside.”
“Are you serious?” she snapped, stepping in front of him to block his way. “She’s nothing, Alexander. Why are you treating her like she’s…”
“Enough,” Alexander interrupted, his voice dangerously low. His icy-blue eyes met hers, his gaze cutting through her like a blade. “Move out of my way, Sofie. I won’t tell you again.”
Sofie paused, her assurance faltering beneath the intensity of his stare. She began to respond but thought better of it, taking a step back with a strained smile. "Certainly." "She must be drained after such a… spirited night."
Ignoring her, Alexander continued his climb. Upon arriving at Dysis's room, he opened the door using his shoulder and brought her in. The room was softly illuminated, with a gentle aroma of lavender permeating the atmosphere. He laid her softly on the bed, cautiously draping a blanket over her. For a brief moment, he remained there, observing her slumber, her serene expression awakening something strange inside him.
Alexander extended his hand, gently pushing a loose lock of hair away from her face. His hand hesitated for a moment before he stood tall, his face setting into a stern look again.
As he started to walk away, her hand reached out, weakly clutching his wrist. Her eyes blinked open, blurry and unfocused.
“Stay,” she whispered, her voice hardly heard.
Alexander froze. He wasn’t used to being asked, no, pleaded with for comfort. His instinct was to pull away, to leave her to sleep off her drunkenness. But something in her vulnerability made him pause.
He sat on the edge of the bed, his usual cold demeanor softening just enough to let his guard down. “You’re drunk, Dysis,” he said quietly.
She smiled faintly, her eyes slipping shut again. “Maybe. But it’s the first time I feel… safe.”
Her words hit him harder than he expected. Alexander leaned back slightly, studying her peaceful expression. How could someone who had endured so much still find room for trust? For hope?
—
Meanwhile, in Ravenhold
Max Carter lounged in the shaded nook of an elegant club, his fingers softly grasping a crystal tumbler of whiskey. The area echoed with understated elegance, the gentle murmur of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the persistent scent of cigars drifting in the atmosphere. The dim illumination cast harsh shadows across his face, highlighting the menacing glint in his eyes even more.
Across from him sat Victor, a wiry man with darting eyes that never settled. Victor’s nervous energy was palpable, like a rat trapped in a maze, but Max’s sharp gaze pinned him in place.
“What do you have for me?” Max’s voice was smooth, almost conversational, but the subtle steel in his tone demanded answers.
Victor swallowed hard, leaning forward as if the walls themselves had ears. “The girl,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. “The one Alexander Levi’s been keeping close. I’ve dug deeper.”
Max’s grip on the tumbler tightened slightly, though his face betrayed nothing but calm curiosity. He swirled the whiskey slowly, the amber liquid catching the dim light. “Go on,” he prompted, his tone deceptively patient.
Victor hesitated, casting a wary glance around the room before continuing. “She’s not just some woman Levi’s picked up. She’s connected to Thomas Salmon.”
The name hit like a thunderclap, and for a moment, Max froze. The air around him seemed to grow heavier, the edges of his calm exterior beginning to fray. “Thomas Salmon,” he repeated, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper.
Victor nodded quickly, his words tumbling out in his haste to fill the silence. “It’s not confirmed, but everything points to her being his daughter. The timing lines up, and she’s been spotted at Alexander’s estate more than once. Levi’s protecting her.”
Max leaned forward slightly, setting the tumbler down with a soft thud. His sharp features hardened, his expression unreadable, but his eyes burned with something dangerous. If the girl was truly Salmon’s daughter, it meant two things, Salmon had betrayed him, again and this girl was the leverage he needed to finish what Salmon had started.
“Are you certain?” Max asked, his voice cutting through Victor’s nervous energy like a blade.
Victor shifted in his seat, beads of sweat forming at his temple. “I’m still piecing everything together, but it fits. Why else would Levi go to such lengths to keep her hidden?”
Max leaned back, his lips curling into a slow, predatory smile. The weight of the revelation settled into his chest like a brewing storm, dark and full of promise. “Thomas,” he murmured, almost to himself, “you sly bastard. No wonder you’re running.”
His fingers drummed idly on the armrest of his chair as his mind worked quickly, piecing together the puzzle. If this girl was Salmon’s daughter, she wasn’t just valuable, she was the key to unlocking everything Salmon had kept hidden. And Alexander Levi, with all his power and cunning, had unwittingly delivered her straight into his sights.
Max’s smile widened, cold and calculating. “If she’s who I think she is, then Alexander’s playing a dangerous game. One he won’t win.”
Victor shifted uneasily under Max’s gaze, but Max didn’t spare him another glance. He picked up his tumbler, raising it in a silent toast to his newfound advantage.
“Find out everything you can,” Max said, his tone commanding. “I want to know her every move, every connection, and every weakness. If she truly belongs to Thomas, then she belongs to me now.”
Victor nodded hastily, rising to leave. But as he turned, Max’s voice stopped him cold.
“Oh, and Victor,” Max added, his smile vanishing, replaced by a look that could freeze blood. “If you fail me again, you’ll find out just how creative I can be.”
Victor's complexion became ashen, and he nodded once more before vanishing into the darkness.
Max reclined in his chair, his fingers clutching the glass firmly as he gazed into the golden recesses of his beverage. The girl's visage lingered in his thoughts, a visage he had not yet encountered but already loathed. If she truly was Thomas Salmon's daughter, she had unwittingly become the focal point of a conflict she couldn't comprehend.
And Max Carter always won his wars.
“So, the girl I saw with you that night at Nathaniel York’s party, the girl I tried to take away from him.” Max began, his voice low and venomous, a chilling smirk spreading across his lips. “She was mine all along.”
A cold, mocking laugh escaped him, sharp and sinister, like a predator circling its prey. He leaned back, savoring the moment, his gaze dark and unrelenting.
“Alexander,” Max drawled, his tone dripping with malice, “it seems you’re the thief here after all.”