Chapter 127: 127. FELIX YEATS (POV)

The party goes just as I planned. The conversations, the well-timed footsteps of Chicago’s elite, the fake smiles. I walk among them calmly, a glass in my hand, returning greetings with brief nods. But my focus isn’t here.

It’s on the earpiece—Isabelle’s voice is steady as she pushes back against Simon, who’s doing everything he can to manipulate her, bringing up things from the past. But she’s holding her ground, matching him word for word. I can hear the irony in her voice. She knows exactly what she’s doing—for now.

With every word he says, I grip my glass tighter. The crystal groans. The urge to head straight up there and smash his face in is right there, coiled in my fists. But I have to wait. She asked me to—said she wanted to do it her way, even though I still have some control over the situation.

I hate putting Isabelle in positions I can’t fully manage, but she insisted—after a lot of talks—on this plan to draw Simon out.

I stop walking as soon as I hear something off. Unusual movement. A different kind of breathing. Tense.

Her voice—low, barely holding on:

“Felix... please... listen to me...”

Then, nothing.

I set the glass down slowly on the nearest table. I look at Tony—he’s less than ten feet away, just like we planned. He looks back. I give the signal.

He doesn’t raise his voice.

“Fourth floor. East door. Signal dropped. Came back weak.”

My face doesn’t change. But inside, my grip on control is hanging by a thread.

“Internal isolation. Quietly. Lock all exits except the security one,” I mutter. “I want Simon contained—alive.”

Phill shows up, giving a subtle nod. Within seconds, he and Tony are on the move. Every man in a position starts shifting. The guests don’t notice. They don’t need to—and they absolutely shouldn’t. If they do, this could get worse real fast.

I adjust my jacket and slip out of the main area without drawing attention.

Simon is trying to take Isabelle, and the worst part is, the damn camera system on that floor suddenly stopped working—when it was working just fine not long ago. Coincidence? Not in my world.

I take the service stairs, step by step. I grab the gun from the back of my waist, check the ammo, and hold it tight in my hand. I start going two steps at a time, trying to reach her as fast as possible.

I spot the sign for the fourth floor. The hallway lights are cold as I push open the security door. My footsteps make no sound now—the echo is gone. The side doors are all closed—Phill followed the plan.

The pendant around Isabelle’s neck is giving off interference, because I can’t hear a thing from it anymore. I spent weeks making sure there were no gaps. But this? This is worse than the cameras going dark, because only hers stopped working. And of all floors, it had to be this one.

Something tells me he knew. Simon always knew how to slip past the rules, how to manipulate. The difference now is that he stepped into my territory. And he’s not walking out easily—unless he’s got someone guiding him who knows the layout.

The east door is slightly open. I start to hear Isabelle’s breathing—heavy, but no words. I grip my gun calmly, keeping it hidden under my jacket. I move slowly, hugging the wall. Nothing but the thump of my heartbeat. I can’t let Isabelle be in danger—I promised her that.

I get closer. The room comes into view.

He’s standing in front of her. His body is tense, his gun catching the cold gleam of the hallway lights. He backs up a little when he sees me, but he doesn’t let her go. Simon’s holding her tight against him, his hand gripping the necklace. That’s why I can’t hear anything—just her muffled breath.

He presses the barrel of the gun to the back of her neck. His hand’s shaking. So is his breathing.

“Don’t come closer, Yeats,” he says, failing to keep his voice steady. “Do what I say, and let us walk out of here.”

Time slows down in my head. He’s threatening—yeah, he’s threatening the most important woman in my life. But he’s also completely lost his balance. Rage starts to build, crawling through my muscles, pushing me to take a step forward.

The room’s small compared to the rest of the hotel. Isabelle stands still, but fear isn’t what’s driving her. As crazy as it sounds, she’s calm. Not saying a word.

My eyes lock on him. Time shifts in my mind. I need to find a way to get Isabelle out of his arms without her getting hurt. And that’s going to be hard—because I don’t know how far he’s willing to go. I don’t know if he plans to hurt her.

“You’re not walking out of this room,” I say, my voice low.

Simon lets out a dry, almost nervous laugh. His fingers tighten around Isabelle’s necklace, and I instinctively tilt my head at the sound it makes in my ear.

“You think that, Yeats?” He shifts slightly, trying to get a better view of me without letting go of Isabelle. “You always think you’ve got everything under control.”

I stay silent. He keeps going, voice sharper now:

“But you know there’s someone who knows exactly how you think? Nox.”

The name hits me hard. I knew Nox was with Martin and Matthew, but not with Simon.

Simon grins when he sees my eyebrows draw together.

“Yeah... he came to me. Did you know that? Your precious right-hand man—after Tony, of course. Mr. Unbreakable. More loyal than a hundred-dollar bill.”

My blood goes cold for a second. Simon doesn’t waste it.

“He said you were getting too distracted. And the worst part? He was right. You should’ve seen his face when he said he was going to take down everything you built—alongside your half-brother and a longtime enemy.”

Simon smiles—a filthy, smug smile, like the words themselves taste good coming out of his mouth.

I straighten up, and just then, I catch the signal in my earpiece—Phill and Tony are in position.

“I think you’re a little late with that crap,” I say, voice steady and low. “Martin and Matthew are already swimming with the sharks.”

Simon’s eyes go wide. He knows he hit a nerve—but he still underestimates how much the truth weighs.

A thick silence settles between us.

I move a little closer. Simon steps back, dragging Isabelle with him. The trigger on his gun isn’t active. That’s a good sign—he doesn’t intend to hurt her. But me? I’ve got every intention of hurting him.

Using the shadow from the overhead light, I slip my hand inside my jacket and grip my gun, fingers tight around it. I know Isabelle’s counting on me—and she knows I’m ready to give everything if that’s what it takes.

Simon stares at me, then slowly points his gun at me instead. A smile spreads across my lips. And then, the opening I’ve been waiting for flashes before my eyes.

I move first.

Adrenaline takes over—burning through my spine, powering every inch of me.

Two gunshots ring out through the room.

Isabelle’s eyes go wide in fear.

I don’t move.

I can’t.