Chapter 7

Dawn came. Thin blue smoke still rose from the steel barrel in the yard.

The morning wind blew the burnt scraps everywhere.

The encrypted comm buzzed in her pocket. Aurelia swiped the screen. The broker's code was dead short:

[Title deed reached neutral zone. Extraction boat ready tomorrow dawn.]

She wiped the log. Downstairs, Lucian's ride sat waiting right outside the portico.

The car door popped open. Lucian smelled of stale booze and faint antiseptic. His collar sat crooked, his face washed with heavy exhaustion. No guessing where he spent the night.

"Get in," he muttered against the wheel, his voice hard. "Mandatory pre-wedding blood draw and scar check. Syndicate rules."

They drove to the family's private underground clinic.

The thick stench of bleach hit her nose.

The nurse drew the curtain. Two glass vials sat on the metal tray.

Aurelia sat down on the cold steel chair. Her expression was blank. She unbuttoned her cuff and showed the faded white scar on her forearm. Two years old, from catching shrapnel for him.

Sitting beside her, Lucian caught sight of that faded mark.

A flash of fake tenderness softened his eyes. He covered her hand, fingers closing tight. His palm felt warm, almost tender. "You've been through hell for me all these years. After the check, I'll take you for that lemon pie you love."

His voice sounded deep and caring, the picture-perfect fiancé.

Three years. Every time he crossed the line, every time he cheated, he tossed her this cheap pity to keep her quiet.

Aurelia let him hold her hand. Not a single ripple in her dark eyes. She laid her arm flat on the foam pad.

The nurse swabbed her skin. The needle slid straight into the vein.

Dark red blood flowed slowly down the plastic line.

Right then, the comm inside Lucian's suit jacket screamed.

He frowned, pulling it out. Not an encrypted Syndicate tag, but a bold caller ID: Bianca.

The second he hit answer, frantic wails exploded through the tiny speaker: "...Lucian! It hurts so bad... stomach pump hurts... pills everywhere... am I gonna die... please come stay with me..."

In a split second, Lucian lost every shred of his cool.

He shot up out of his chair, slamming his hip into the rolling metal cart.

"Bianca?! Where are you? Stay awake! Do you hear me!"

He didn't even try to hide it. He broke into a dead run for the door, tearing his hand away from Aurelia.

The plastic line snapped taut. The needle ripped sideways under her skin, slicing straight through the vein wall!

A brutal tearing burn ripped across her arm. Blood instantly welled up around the puncture, spilling over the pad.

Lucian didn't even look back.

"Hostile sweep on the Westside. I gotta handle it."

A pathetic, filthy lie. His boots pounded frantically down the hallway outside.

Down the corridor came his desperate roars, cursing his men to fire up the engine.

Dead silence fell over the small room.

The cart lay overturned. Steel instruments littered the tile.

The nurse froze in pure terror. "Miss! The vein's torn... press it down, quick!"

Aurelia looked down at the blood dripping from her elbow. She didn't flinch. Not once.

She crawled through the dirt for years. She took blades and slugs without making a sound. A torn vein didn't even count as a scratch.

The only thing bleeding was his three years of fake devotion.

"Pull it out," Aurelia said, her tone dead flat.

The nurse jerked the needle out. She pressed a cotton swab hard against the swelling skin.

Pain flared through her forearm.

A faint, cold smirk pulled at the corner of Aurelia's lips.

Once the bleeding stopped, Aurelia pushed through the clinic's heavy glass door. The biting wind cut straight into her coat.

A vicious purple bruise spread over her inner arm.

She ignored it, pulling out her phone.

A new post had just dropped onto the private feed.

Location: VIP penthouse recovery suite downtown.

Bianca leaned back against the headboard, tears still wet on her cheeks, but a smug smirk curling her mouth.

Beside her sat Lucian—the Underboss supposedly busy with a "hostile sweep."

His coat still on, his face tense with worry, he held a bowl of hot soup. He blew on the spoon carefully, feeding it to Bianca sip by sip.

The caption under the photo read:

[Swallowing a whole bottle of pills is worth it, as long as you drop the world and run to me.]

Aurelia stood in the freezing wind. Her face was completely expressionless as she shut off the screen.

She shoved the burner into her coat pocket. She walked down the concrete steps into the icy wind.

Twelve hours left until dawn extraction.