Chapter 42 A Death Wish
Thirty minutes earlier
Ravial sat perfectly still in the back seat of his Maybach, blindfolded, jacket open, one arm stretched across the seat, the other resting with his phone loosely against his thigh.
The day had been long.
And bloody, in ways that didn’t show on his clothes.
All he wanted was a shower, a drink strong enough to burn, and the warm body of his little wife curled against his chest while she rambled about her day. She was the only voice he could tolerate right now.
The phone vibrated once.
He answered without saying a word.
“Sir,” Rosa’s voice came through, tight with worry, “they’re here. Senator Hale, his wife and… and another woman. They’re in the main living room with the missus. Security didn’t stop them because….”
He ended the call.
No expression.
No sigh.
Not even a curse.
Just the soft click of the screen going dark.
A second later, his fingers moved, fast, precise.
He opened the private app linked to the villa’s cameras.
The feed he wanted loaded instantly.
Charles Hale paced the room like a hyena trapped in a too-small cage, sweat soaking the armpits of his five-thousand-dollar suit.
Alyssa sat stiff on the sofa.
And Avery… he recognized her immediately.
And there, on the opposite chair, small, straight-backed, wearing a simple yellow sundress, was Leitana.
His little lamb.
Charles’s voice crackled through the car speakers, loud and furious.
“…start packing your bags now. I want this settled and cleared up as soon as possible…”
Ravial’s face didn’t move.
Charles kept shouting, ranting about the marriage ending, about Avery being back, accusing Leitana of pretending and lying.
The phone creaked in Ravial’s grip.
Charles leaned forward, sneering.
“He must have spoiled you rotten… tell me, has he fucked you?”
Leitana flinched like she’d been struck.
The phone creaked again, louder this time.
Ravial’s thumb slid across the screen.
The feed zoomed in on Leitana’s face, her wide, frightened eyes, trembling lips, one small hand pressed unconsciously to her stomach.
His face stayed cold.
He closed the app.
Leaned forward.
“Turn around,” he told the driver, voice calm.
“Home. Now.”
The driver didn’t hesitate.
The Maybach swung across three lanes, tires screaming as it accelerated.
Ravial sat back, adjusted his cuffs, and stared ahead.
No anger.
No panic.
Just a chilling stillness.
The driver glanced at him, obviously having heard what happened and swallowed hard.
The lack of emotion was more terrifying than rage.
Minutes later
The villa doors opened.
Ravial walked inside.
Still cold.
Still controlled.
Still deadly.
He didn’t hurry.
He didn’t need to.
He stepped into the living room and spoke.
“You barge into my house uninvited, scream at my wife, and bark at my people.”
His voice was soft, almost bored.
“I don’t know if it’s stupidity you’re suffering from or a death wish,”
He checked his watch, casual as ever.
“And it’s not even six yet,” he added, dry as dust.
“Which means I’m in a very bad mood.”
Then, without looking directly at her, because he didn’t have to, he said,
“Come here, little lamb.”
Leitana turned to him, slowly standing on shaky legs. She took one step…
And Charles’s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist.
Leitana winced at the sudden grip, her heart slamming painfully against her chest.
Charles had no idea what he had just done.
Ravial’s eyes dropped to the hand wrapped around his wife’s arm.
His calm expression didn’t change, but something dark flickered behind his covered eyes.
He didn’t care that it was her father.
He wanted to rip that hand off.
A violent, consuming urge.
Charles laughed, shrill and oblivious. “Deeply sorry for the intrusion, but we’re both busy men. And this needed handling” he said, still smiling proudly, still holding her wrist.
Ravial didn’t even hear the apology.
His gaze was fixed on one thing:
The hand keeping his wife from coming to him.
Avery hadn’t moved an inch from the sofa, but every nerve in her body was screaming. She couldn’t see Ravial’s eyes, they were shuttered behind that beautiful, empty blindfold, yet she felt the violence radiating off him like heat from a furnace. And she understood one thing clearly, if Charles didn’t let go of Leitana, he would die right there. And as tempting as that felt to her… she couldn’t let it happen. If he was going to die, it would be by her hand, not his mistake.
Charles kept talking, drunk on his own stupidity.
“I know this is confusing, seeing another woman who looks exactly like the wife you married, but I have two daughters. One ran away like a coward; the other filled in. Now the real bride is back, so I’m here to hand her over.”
He grinned, triumphant, sweat shining on his upper lip.
He grinned, but Ravial didn’t spare him a glance. His stare stayed locked on Charles’ hand gripping Leitana. A few feet away, his men were already shifting, prepared for whatever happened next.
Lucius, standing closest to Ravial, turned to Damon with a sharp nod, one that clearly meant, Get the cleanup crew ready.
Ravial finally spoke, voice low and soft, eyes still glued to that hand.
“Take it off her,” he said, “or I’ll take it off you.”
Charles’s mouth opened…then froze.
Avery was already moving.
She rose in one fluid motion, crossed the space, and seized Leitana’s free hand. One sharp yank and Leitana stumbled forward, straight into Ravial’s waiting arms. He caught her instantly, pulling her hard against his chest, palm sliding possessively over the curve of her spine.
Avery stepped in front of them both, shielding her twin with her body, and flashed Charles the sweetest, deadliest smile in her arsenal.
“See, Dad?” she purred. “I told you there was no need to worry. I never wanted to take her place.”
Charles’s empty hand curled into a trembling fist.
Avery let the smile sharpen, relishing the way his teeth ground together.
“The decision’s been made,” she said lightly. “No swap. No trade.”
She turned to Leitana, who was crushed against Ravial’s broad chest.
“That plan of yours is pointless,” she said simply.
Charles understood. Perfectly.
His lips twisted into something that wanted to be a smile and failed miserably.
“Then… so be it,” he forced out between clenched teeth.