Chapter 117 -
That evening, Christian returned. The shadows in the room seemed heavier, sharper, more defined. Leo was sitting up by then, pale but steadier than before. The machines hummed quietly, their beeps a steady reminder of how close he’d come.
Christian held a folder in one hand and approached the bed slowly, as if even the air around Leo demanded caution. “Victor’s handlers reached out. They want a meeting to exchange information for money.”
Leo took the folder, flipping it open and scanning the contents.
“Where?”
“At the abandoned factory on the east side. Tomorrow night.”
He closed the folder deliberately, his fingers tapping lightly against the covers. “Hmmm… We’ll be ready.”
Christian hesitated. “You sure you’re up for this?”
Leo’s unwavering gaze met his. “I don’t have a choice.”
Christian gave a subtle nod, eyes lingering a moment longer, then left the room quietly. The silence he left behind seemed to press in on them both, filling the corners of the small space.
Nia stepped closer immediately. “You’re not going.”
“Yes, I am.” His tone was flat, firm, and unyielding.
“I said you're not. You can barely walk!” Her chest rose and fell quickly, her hands clenching at her sides. “You’re still bandaged. You’re weak. Leo, this is insane!”
“I am not weak! I can sit in a car. I can give orders. I can pull a trigger if I have to.” His eyes hardened.
Her voice wavered unsteadily. “Leo, you’re… you’re not thinking about what could happen!”
“I am thinking,” he said softly, leaning back against the pillows. “And I’ve decided. I can’t sit here while someone else dies because I stayed behind.”
She wanted to argue. She wanted to scream at him, to lock the doors, hide the keys, anything to keep him there. But the truth settled hard in her chest, the man in front of her would go whether she argued or not.
“When do we leave?” she asked instead.
He frowned slightly. “We?”
“Yes, we. I’m coming, and there's nothing you can do to stop me.”
“Oh no, lioness… you're not.”
“Leo, I said I'm coming. Did you even—”
“If something goes wrong, I need someone here who knows what’s at stake.” He reached for her hand, taking it in his. “I need you safe.”
“And if something goes wrong, and you don’t come back?”
He was silent for a long moment, the question hanging like a threat in the air. Then he whispered, “Then you survive. You survive, and you make sure Gabriel does too.”
The weight of those words pressed down on her chest. She wanted to argue, to protest, to tear at the walls until she was sure he couldn’t leave. Instead, she whispered, “Do well to come back.”
“I’ll try.”
The next night, she stood at the window, body pressed against the cool glass, watching the convoy move out. She didn’t move until the taillights disappeared around the corner. The world outside seemed unnaturally still once they were gone.
Rosa appeared beside her, her footsteps soft against the floor. “He’ll come back.”
“You don’t know that,” Nia said, voice tight, barely above a whisper.
“No,” Rosa admitted, a thin smile touching her lips. “But I know that boy. He’s got reasons to live now. More than he’s had in years. You should know that too by now.”
Nia turned to meet her gaze.
“That’s you. That’s Gabriel. That’s the family he’s building.” Rosa’s words were soft but firm, like a tether in the storm. She laid a hand on Nia’s shoulder. “He’s not going anywhere without reasons to fight for.”
They stayed together in the dark, leaning against the cool wall, the only sound the faint hum of the city beyond the gates. Waiting. Time stretched, each second heavy with fear and anticipation.
Three hours later, the phone rang, shrill and urgent, slicing through the quiet. Nia jumped, snatching it off the side table before it could ring again.
Christian’s voice came first, clipped but relieved. “It’s done. Victor’s handlers are dead. We’re coming home.”
“And Leo?”
A pause, weighted. “Ask him yourself.”
Then the line shifted, and Leo’s voice replaced Christian’s. “I’m okay. We’re all okay.”
Relief hit her like a tidal wave. Her knees nearly gave out, and she sank back against the wall, clutching the phone to her chest.
“Don’t do that again,” she said shakily.
“Can’t promise,” he replied, the faintest chuckle in his voice.
“I know.”
Another pause. “I’ll see you soon.”
The line went dead. Nia pressed the phone to her chest again, heartbeat pounding like a drum.
Rosa touched her shoulder lightly. “See? Told you.”
Nia allowed herself a small, tight smile. Relief coiled and uncoiled in her stomach.
Then, without warning, the door burst open, slamming against the wall. Micheal stood there, pale, breath coming in fast, sharp pulls. “We have a problem. Santiago just sent a video. To everyone. Families. Media. Everyone.”
He thrust the phone forward, shaking slightly.
On the screen, Santiago stood in front of the Cimmera logo, smiling like nothing was wrong.
“Hello, cousins. Miss me?”
Nia felt the blood drain from her face.
“You’ve been hunting me,” Santiago continued, amusement dripping from his tone. “Chasing shadows, playing catch-up, while I’ve been watching…. learning… waiting patiently.”
He stepped aside, and the camera shifted.
Tied to a chair, blindfolded, was someone Nia recognized instantly. Her chest constricted, her breath catching immediately.
It was Isadora. Her best friend. Her closest thing to family.
Santiago leaned back into frame, arms loose, expression mocking. “Come get me, Leonardo. Bring the girl. Or I start sending her back… piece by piece.”
The video cut abruptly.
Nia’s chest tightened, her hands trembling. The room seemed impossibly large and empty despite the lights, the walls, and the machines.
“Mia—Nia!” Micheal’s voice sounded distant, almost underwater.
She looked at him slowly. “Leo’s on his way back,” he said. “He’ll know what to do.”
She shook her head, voice barely audible. “No.”
Her hands clenched into fists, knuckles white. The fear, the anger, the helplessness, it coiled inside her, burning like a live wire.
“This time…” she whispered, gnashing her teeth. “…I do.”