Chapter 72 Familiar Enemy

Chapter 72 Familiar Enemy
Drazen POV

The acoustic earpiece hummed faintly with the background noise of the First National Bank lobby.

"He just walked through the main entrance." Sable’s voice fed into my right ear, crisp and purely professional. "He is favoring his left side.
Checking his watch every ten seconds. He looks like he hasn't slept in a week."

"Understood," I murmured, standing in the shadows of the frosted glass outside
the advisory suites. "Maintain your lane. If you spot anyone following him, say the word and we abort."

"Copy that. I have eyes on the exits."

I tapped the comm device to mute my microphone.

Freezing the Undercourt’s primary surface accounts had been a calculated risk. Carvek controlled the physical foundation of Ashfall, but he possessed zero understanding of human financial infrastructure. That I made sure of so when the liquid capital stopped
flowing, he had no choice but to send the only lieutenant who understood the banking protocols to fix the blockage in person.

Footsteps echoed softly on the marble tile.

Theron rounded the corner, holding a sleek leather briefcase. He kept his head down, scanning the frosted office numbers, completely unaware of my presence until I stepped directly in font of him.

As he stopped short, the briefcase nearly slipped from his fingers.

He simply stared at me, the deep, bruised
bags under his eyes making him look sick. The last time we spoke, I had dismissed him in the kitchen after discovering his self-inflicted wound. The animosity between us was deep to the point I never spoke to him until I left. Today, he just looked worn out.

"The frozen accounts," he said flatly, his voice lacking its usual sharp edge as he came to the realization. "It was bait."

"It was the only way to get you above ground without Carvek knowing." I gestured toward an empty conference room to our left.

He hesitated, glancing back toward the bustling main lobby. He knew the risk he was taking. If Carvek found out we spoke, he would be branded a traitor to the new regime. But the centuries of ingrained loyalty eventually won out over his fear as he eventually followed me into the dark room.

"Carvek is rationing the heat," I stated, getting straight to the point. "He has locked the Hatchery and is threatening a surface breach. You know as well as I do that his leadership will end in the slaughter of our people. I need to get
back inside."

He let out a harsh, bitter laugh. "You want my help? You brought a human into our home, you shattered the hierarchy of the court, you exiled yourself for her, and now you want me to hand you the keys to the castle?"

"I am asking you to protect the commoners you swore to serve."

"Don't preach about duty to me, Drazen." he dropped his briefcase onto the conference table before stepping forward, closing the distance between us.

The professional distance he had maintained for so long finally crumbled, exposing the raw, festering wound beneath.

"I stood by your right side for eight centuries," he whispered, his voice shaking with a devastating mix of grief and rage. "I managed your politics. I hid your secrets. I built this corporate empire from the dirt up just to give
you a place to rule. And you threw it all away in a month for a paramedic."

I didn't defend my choices. I stood perfectly still, letting him unleash the resentment I had willingly ignored for far too long.

"Why wasn't I enough?" The question cracked in the middle. Tears welled in his eyes, spilling over his lower lashes that he didn't bother wiping them away. "I would have given you everything. I did give you everything."

He took another step forward, this time looking up at my mouth with a terrible, desperate hunger that was currently overriding his pride.

"Just once," he pleaded, his voice breaking into a ragged sob. He lifted a trembling hand, stopping an inch from my chest. "Just close your eyes and lie to me for one second. Give me something."

The desperation in the request felt like all my responsibilities pressing down on my shoulders. It would be incredibly easy to give him what he asked for. A single, transactional kiss. A momentary illusion to secure the survival of my court.

Yet I didn't pull away in disgust. Instead, I reached out, sliding my palm around the back of his neck and gripped him firmly in a traditional, deep gesture of pureblood respect. Then pulled him forward until my forehead pressed against his.

He gasped, his hands flying up to grip my forearms.

"I respect you too much to give you a lie," I said softly, keeping my eyes wide open, locked directly onto his. "You deserve a mate who does not have to close his eyes to want you. I will not insult eight centuries of your loyalty by using your grief as a bargaining chip."

A ragged, agonizing sound tore out of his throat as he squeezed his eyes shut, his tears soaking into the collar of my shirt. I held him there, offering no false promises, simply acknowledging the immense value of the man standing in front of me.

Slowly, the grip on my arms loosened.

He stepped back, swiped the back of his hand roughly across his face,. clearing the moisture from his cheeks. He took a long breath,
pulling the fragmented pieces of his composure back together. The heartbreak was
still written across his features, but the resentment was finally gone. At least I hope it was.

He picked up his briefcase.

"The maintenance gate," he said, his voice entirely professional, devoid of the earlier tremor. "Tomorrow night, exactly at midnight. I will wipe the biometric registry and kill the security cameras in that sector. You will have exactly sixty seconds before the system runs an automated diagnostic and the heavy bolts reset."

"Sixty seconds," I confirmed, committing the timetable to memory. "Thank you, Theron."

He walked to the door and placed his hand on the handle then stopped, looking back over his shoulder.

"Do not underestimate Carvek," he warned, the shadows of the room obscuring his expression. "You assume he is acting out of foolish ambition. He isn't. He has backing."

A cold spike of dread hit my stomach. "What kind of backing?"

"He didn't just lock the gates to keep you out," Theron said grimly. "He locked them to keep his new ally in. Kassia is downstairs, Drazen. The Scoria faction has officially occupied the Undercourt."