Chapter Seven

Kyle’s POV

“Where is he?” I asked Rio as I walked into the dimly lit room with Theo.

“Right here, boss,” he said, stepping aside.

The man looked barely alive. Bloodied. Beaten. Knees pressed against the cold concrete.

“Has he confessed?”

“He spat in my eye and refused to say a word,” Rio replied.

I didn’t raise my voice. I never needed to.

The man in front of me was already shaking. Fear clung to him like a second skin.

“You are the Black King,” he trembled.

Of course he knew.

I never showed my face unless I needed to clean up an ugly mess or send a message. Even my buyers had never seen me. I ran a tight system.

Blackcrest was impenetrable.

And this fool thought he could infiltrate me.

I stared at him. Blood stained the corner of his lips. Theo stood behind him, silent as ever, a gun resting casually in his hand.

I adjusted my cufflinks slowly.

“Who sent you?”

The man hesitated. That was his first mistake.

Theo’s fist connected with his jaw, snapping his head to the side. A strangled groan tore from his throat.

I exhaled softly, already bored. This was not how I planned to spend my Wednesday afternoon.

“I don’t repeat myself.”

“I… I don’t know his name,” the man stammered. “They just… they wanted to know how you move your shipments. The routes. The suppliers…”

My lips curved slightly.

“Curious,” I murmured. “People who ask too many questions tend to forget how valuable silence is.”

I stepped closer. Slowly. Measured.

His breathing became erratic.

“I wasn’t going to expose anything,” he rushed out, blood trickling down his mouth. “I swear. I just needed information. That’s all…”

I crouched in front of him. Now we were eye level.

“That’s all?” I repeated.

He nodded desperately.

I tilted my head slightly, studying him like I was deciding if he was worth anything at all.

Then I smiled. That was the worst part.

“You’ve already exposed something,” I said.

The man froze.

I leaned in, my voice dropping to a whisper.

“You proved my system isn’t feared enough.”

His face drained of color.

I straightened. “Theo.”

The single word was enough. The gun lifted.

“Wait… please… I can work for you… I can—”

The gunshot cut him off. Clean. Precise. Final.

Silence followed. I didn’t look at the body.

“Clean this up,” I said, turning away. Theo followed me out.

We got into the car.

“Find out who sent him,” I said calmly, pulling my phone from my pocket. “And send a message.”

Theo nodded.

My attention shifted to the message on my screen.

Aisha.

The stakeholders had been waiting for over an hour. She couldn’t hold them any longer.

“What kind of message, sir?” Theo asked.

I checked the time. One PM.

My expression remained blank.

“Make sure they understand something.”

A beat.

“No one traces my supply chain and lives to talk about it.”

Blackcrest was the armory I built before my father’s death. I turned it into the most feared network in the underground.

I didn’t beg for business. They came to me.

Mafia families. Private militias. Corrupt elites. Name them.

The car pulled up in front of Apex Holdings. I was Black King of Blackcrest by night. Kyle Leicester, CEO of Apex Holdings by day.

Logistics. Imports. Shipping. Technology.

This right here was how weapons moved legally on paper.

I had never been caught.

I walked into the building over two hours late.

Still, I entered the boardroom like I wasn’t.

Then I paused.

Aisha was handling the meeting.

“Be rest assured that this expansion into new markets will be of significant value to the company and to you, our investors and clients,” she said confidently. “In the next meeting with the CEO, he will address market growth and provide updates on shipping operations. Is that acceptable?”

They nodded.

As they began to leave, they saw me.

“Apologies for the delay,” I said.

“You have one hell of an assistant,” one of them added. “You should be thankful to her.”

That was the problem. I didn’t like being thankful to anyone.

I gave a curt nod. They left.

Serena stepped forward quickly. “I tried to stop her, sir, but she wouldn’t listen. The investors were starting to leave and…”

“Leave. Now.”

I didn’t look at her.

My eyes were fixed on Aisha.

Serena left immediately, shutting the door behind her.

Silence settled between us.

“Who told you you could address the stakeholders on my behalf?” I asked, walking toward her.

She took a step back.

“Don’t blame me for your actions,” she fired back. “If you hadn’t been late, I wouldn’t have stepped in.”

“Late or absent, it’s none of your concern,” I said coldly. “I will have no one jeopardize my company. You’re lucky you did well.”

I closed the distance between us.

She stumbled slightly, gripping the desk for support.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” Her breath hitched.

“Your sharp tongue will get you in trouble,” I murmured, lifting her chin. “It’s time you put that mouth to better use.”

I kissed her. Hard. Possessive. Her lips were soft, warm, and dangerous.

I tasted her like I had been starved of it. She resisted at first. Then she melted.

Despite the fact I believed this was her punishment, the pleasure I derived from this called me a blatant liar.

And that… irritated me.

Because I wasn’t supposed to want this.

I lifted her onto the desk. Her hands wrapped around my shoulders as she gave in completely.

My lips trailed down her neck. Lower.

She wore a skirt today. A smirk tugged at my lips.

My fingers slid along her thigh, finding heat.

She gasped, her body arching. A soft moan escaped her and my control slipped.

I wanted more. Needed more.

But then…

The accident. The screeching tires. Cara’s body hitting the ground. Blood. Hospitals. Machines. Flashed through my mind.

I pulled away abruptly.

There were better ways to make her suffer.

“Get up,” I said coldly. “We have somewhere to be.”

I walked out.

Ignoring the dissatisfaction in her eyes.

We arrived at the hospital.

“Why are we here?” she asked.

I ignored her.

I grabbed her hand and led her inside.

The moment we reached Cara’s door, everything in me hardened.

I pushed the door open. Cara lay still. Fragile. Unmoving. Four years. Four years of silence.

I pulled Aisha forward.

“This is why we’re here,” I said.

She started shaking.

“You ruined her,” I continued. “My only family.”

Tears filled her eyes. She looked away.

I grabbed her face and forced her to look again.

“Look at her.”

Her breath broke.

“You took life from an innocent girl,” I said, my voice low and deadly. “You deserve to suffer, Aisha. You deserve hell. Unhappiness. I hope the guilt of what you’ve done eats you alive.”

I pushed her away.

She fell to the floor, sobbing.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, clutching her chest. “I shouldn’t have taken you out that night… I’m sorry…”

For a brief moment,  she almost moved me.

But then I remembered. The Manchesters were liars.

Manipulators.

And she was one of them.