Chapter 203 His Last Move

Chapter 203 His Last Move


Draco’s POV

By the time I reach her, something is already wrong.
Not the kind of wrong you can hear over a comm or read in a report. This is quieter. Sharper. The kind that settles in your gut before your mind can catch up.
Bella doesn’t look at me right away.
That alone is enough to put me on edge.
She’s standing near the desk, shoulders tight, chin lifted just enough to hold something back. Her eyes are glassed over, that sheen sitting there like it’s waiting for permission to fall but it doesn’t. It never does. Not with her.
Nothing ever shakes her. That’s what makes this worse.
Her head moves slightly when I step into the room. A small shake. Almost like she’s already telling me no before I even ask the question.
Too late for that.
I close the distance without slowing and pull her straight into me, my hand coming up to the back of her head, pressing her in firmly like I can anchor whatever the hell this is before it spreads any further.
“What’s wrong, cara mia?” I murmur against her hair, my voice low, controlled. “What has you so upset?”
She doesn’t answer immediately.
I feel the tension in her before I see it. I see the way her body holds, not leaning into me the way she usually does. Not relaxing. Not settling.
That’s when I know this isn’t small.
She pulls back just enough to look up at me, her hands still braced against my chest, like she needs the contact but can’t quite decide what to do with it.
“Draco, this is bad.” There’s no dramatics in her tone. No exaggeration.
Just fact.
My grip tightens slightly, thumb brushing along her jaw as I study her face.
“The Reaper.”
“He’s dead, cara mia,” I cut in softly, steadying her before she can spiral into something that doesn’t exist anymore. “He can’t bother you. He can’t touch you. That’s finished.”
Her expression shifts.
Not relief. But frustration. 
“It’s not that simple,” she snaps, the words slipping out harsher than she probably intended. “It’s not that damn easy, Draco.”
Ah. There it is.
I don’t react to the tone. Not outwardly. But something in my chest tightens just a fraction.
Because she’s right. If she’s this shaken, then it isn’t about a dead man.
“Draco,” Gino cuts in from across the room, voice threaded with something between disbelief and irritation. “Come take a look.”
Of course. No one says what it is. No one ever just says it.
“They’re all afraid of you,” I mutter dryly under my breath, glancing back toward him before looking down at her again. “Or they’re afraid of telling me something I won’t like.”
Bella exhales quietly, like she already knows exactly which one it is.
I don’t let go of her as I move. My arm stays around her, guiding her with me, keeping her close enough that I can feel every shift in her posture, every breath that doesn’t quite land right.
When I sit, I pull her onto my lap without asking. She doesn’t argue. That’s another red flag.
Gino turns the screen toward me.
And then I see it. For a second, I don’t say anything. Not because I don’t understand. Because I understand it too well.
The Reaper’s last move.
A leak.
A name.
Echo.
Her name.
Every feed, every corner of the network we monitor. The threads, reposts, speculation spiraling out of control like gasoline caught fire before anyone could smother it.
It’s everywhere.
“Fuck,” I say, the word leaving me sharper than intended, louder than I usually allow.
Bella’s fingers tighten slightly against my shirt at the sound.
I drag my gaze across the screen, watching it spread in real time, analyzing the pattern, the speed, the reach.
“Can you shut it down?” I ask, voice lower now but no less dangerous.
Gino nods quickly. “We already did. The original post’s gone. Wiped clean. No trace, no backups, nothing that can be pulled.”
I flick my eyes to him. Then back to the screen. “Then what exactly am I looking at?” I ask, the edge in my tone unmistakable now. “Because if it was handled, this wouldn’t still be breathing.”
He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “It’s the fallout. People saw it before we got there. Screenshots, word of mouth, speculation. It spread before we could choke it.”
Of course it did. Information doesn’t die. It mutates.
I lean back slightly in the chair, my arm tightening around Bella instinctively as I think, my gaze still locked on the chaos unfolding across the screen.
This isn’t about truth anymore. It’s about perception. And perception can be controlled.
I glance down at her. She’s watching the screen too, but not the way I am. Not calculating. Not detached.
This hits her differently.
“Cara mia,” I murmur, my tone shifting just enough to pull her attention back to me. “Look at me.”
She does. Reluctantly.
“Can we turn this?” I ask, voice quieter now, measured. “Make it look like a lie. Like he was reaching for anything he could use against me.”
There’s a flicker in her eyes. Before she can answer, Gino leans forward, something clicking into place for him.
“You know what?” he says, a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth despite the situation. “You’re onto something, boss.”
I don’t look at him. “Good,” I reply flatly. “Because that’s the direction we’re going.”
Gino’s already moving, fingers flying across the keyboard with renewed purpose.
“The Reaper was targeting you,” he continues, half-talking to himself, half to me. “We spin it like he dragged her name in to get a reaction. Make it look desperate. Unhinged. Like he was throwing whatever he could at the wall.”
“Make him look sloppy,” I add calmly. “Not strategic.”
“Easy,” Gino mutters. “Guy’s dead. Can’t defend himself anyway.”
Bella shifts slightly on my lap, her attention finally pulling away from the screen. “You really think that’ll work?” she asks quietly.
I look at her. Really look at her. “This world doesn’t run on truth,” I tell her, my voice steady, certain. “It runs on what people believe long enough to stop asking questions.”
She studies me for a moment, searching for something.
Reassurance. Certainty.
Maybe both.
“And you can control that?” she presses.
A faint smirk tugs at my mouth. “I already do.”
Gino snorts softly from the desk. “God, I hate when you get like that.”
“You mean right?” I shoot back without looking at him.
“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”
I shift my attention back to the screen as the first changes begin to take hold. A new narratives slipping in, doubt being planted, threads redirecting.
It’s subtle. But it’s working. It always does.
My hand moves absently along Bella’s back, grounding her, steadying her without making a show of it.
“They won’t touch you,” I say quietly, more to her than anyone else in the room. “Not from this. Not from him.”
The Reaper got his last move. It just won’t land the way he intended.
Not while I’m here.