Chapter seven

The sound of gunfire echoed through the pier.

Loud. Sharp.

Too close.

Zayden pulled me lower behind the crate. My heart was pounding so hard it drowned out everything else.

“Don’t move,” he hissed.

Bullets hit the wood again, splintering it into tiny shards that stung my skin. I flinched, pressing my head against his chest. His body was tense, his heartbeat steady , like he’d been through this a thousand times before.

“Who are they?” I gasped.

He didn’t answer. Just reached for his gun, leaned out, and fired twice. Two quick shots. Someone screamed in the distance. Then silence.

My ears rang. The smell of gunpowder burned in the air.

Zayden turned to me. “We have to move.”

I nodded, though my legs didn’t seem to understand. He grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. We ran , between stacks of old cargo, through puddles of rainwater, past the flickering lights that painted everything in ghostly silver.

When we reached his bike, he shoved a helmet at me. “Get on.”

“I....what about...”

“Vivienne, now!”

I didn’t argue. I climbed on behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist just as he kicked the engine to life. The bike roared, cutting through the night like thunder.

Wind whipped through my hair. My heart raced. My mind was chaos.

I glanced back once and saw shadows still moving at the pier. Men. Armed.

Who were they?

Why were they after him? Or was it… us?

The road blurred under the speed. Zayden didn’t slow down until we were far from the docks, deep into the outskirts where the city lights faded into black. He finally pulled into a narrow dirt path that led to a small cabin surrounded by trees.

He stopped the bike, killed the engine, and for a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence pressed heavy.

He took off his helmet, tossed it aside, and ran a hand through his hair. His jaw was tight, his eyes darker than ever.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he snapped.

I flinched. “You’re the one who told me to come!”

“Yeah, and I didn’t expect you to drive straight into a damn ambush!”

“Ambush?” My voice trembled. “Who were they, Zayden?”

He looked away, breathing hard. “People your father used to do business with. People who don’t forgive easily.”

My stomach twisted. “So it’s true. He’s involved in something.....”

“Something?” Zayden’s laugh was short, bitter. “Your father built half his empire on blood money, Vivienne. He’s just good at cleaning up the mess afterward.”

I stared at him, shaking my head. “No. You’re lying. He’s he’s strict, yes, but he’s not a criminal.”

He met my eyes. “Then why do you think they were shooting at you too?”

The words hit me like a punch.

I turned away, my throat tight. The night air was cold against my skin, but it wasn’t enough to cool the storm in my chest.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” I asked quietly.

“Because you wouldn’t have believed me,” he said, softer now. “And because once you see what he’s done, there’s no going back.”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

He walked past me, into the cabin, leaving the door open. I followed slowly.

Inside was dim and quiet. A single lamp lit the small room .A worn couch, a wooden table, a few scattered tools. It smelled like oil and rain.

Zayden sat down, pulled the folded photo from his pocket, and slid it across the table toward me.

The same one I hadn’t been able to look at fully before.

My hand trembled as I opened it.

My father.

Derek’s father.

Standing side by side with a younger Zayden in the background.

My heart thudded painfully. “Why are you in this picture?”

He didn’t look up. “Because I used to work for them.”

The room went silent.

I blinked. “What?”

He leaned back, his eyes distant. “Before I started the crew. Before I got smart. I was one of their guys .The one they sent to do the dirty jobs no one wanted to talk about.”

I stared at him, trying to piece the image together the man who’d saved me, the one who’d kissed me, standing shoulder to shoulder with my father in another lifetime.

“What kind of jobs?” I asked.

He looked at me, and for the first time, I saw something like guilt flicker in his eyes. “Deliveries. Protection. Collections. You name it. Until I realized what they were really trafficking.”

I felt my stomach drop. “You mean…”

“People, Vivienne.” His voice cracked a little. “Your father’s company hid behind fake contracts. And Langston funded it. They ran shipments through the port. I found out too late.”

I pressed my hand to my mouth. “No.”

“I tried to get out. They went after me. After my crew. Some didn’t make it.” He swallowed hard. “I swore I’d never go near that world again. Until I saw your name on one of their new files.”

I froze. “My name?”

He nodded. “You were next. They were setting up a new deal through you ; a way to merge both families and keep the operation clean.”

The room spun around me. “That’s why my father wanted me to marry Derek.”

Zayden didn’t reply. He didn’t have to.

I backed away, shaking my head. “This can’t be real.”

“It is,” he said quietly. “And now that they know you’ve seen me, they’ll come for you too.”

My voice cracked. “So what do I do?”

He stood up, came closer. “You stay hidden. Let me handle it.”

“No.” I met his gaze, fire rising in my chest. “I’m done hiding. I deserve to know everything.”

He stared at me for a long moment, his jaw tightening. Then, finally, he nodded once.

“Alright,” he said. “But if we do this, there’s no going back.”

“I already crossed that line,” I whispered.

He reached out, brushed a strand of hair from my face. His touch was soft, almost careful. “You really don’t know what you’re getting into, do you?”

“Maybe not,” I said, meeting his eyes. “But I trust you.”

Something flickered in his gaze . something unspoken, dangerous, real.

He leaned in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Then we move at dawn.”

A sound outside made him freeze.

Footsteps. Crunching gravel.

He turned off the lamp instantly. The cabin sank into darkness.

“Zayden?” I whispered.

“Shh.”

We both listened. The footsteps came closer. Slow. Heavy.

He reached for his gun. I held my breath.

Then ,a faint knock at the door. Three slow taps.

Zayden’s grip on the gun tightened.

“Who is it?” I whispered.

He didn’t answer. Just raised the weapon slightly.

Another knock. Louder this time.

Then a voice ;calm, deep, chillingly familiar.

“Open up, Zayden. We need to talk.”

My heart stopped.

It was my father.