Chapter two

Aziel POV

“Take him to the basement,” my father ordered.

I took a long drag at my cigarette before tossing it aside. Two of his men rushed forward, dragging the man away amid protests, the door closing behind them. The slam echoed in the hallway, sharp enough to make my teeth clench.

“You had one task,” he growled, his gaze fixated on me. “Do you want to declare war?”

“That wouldn’t be so bad. It’s been long, and I need new enemies to bicker with,” I said flatly, folding my arms.

His eyes twitched, a flicker of anger before he gulped down.

“You need to follow the agreement signed and—”

“I will not babysit and I don’t care what I signed either,” I snapped.

“We wouldn’t have been in this mess if you had just followed my instructions.”

“We don’t need their help. I told you I would have everything under control,” I gritted my teeth.

“Really? How are you gonna handle the feds on your neck, kill the entire fucking army?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. They were a nuisance, a bunch of rats that were now everywhere I stepped.

“You have one hour to get him in this estate, and pray he is unharmed, because you will face the consequences,” he hissed, his index finger pointing at me.

“Is that a threat, Father?” I asked, getting up from my desk.

“Yes, if you don’t get that prince here you lose the East Coast.”

My jaw tightened in one shot as I hit the desk, the edge peeling from the force. My knuckles throbbed from the impact.

“You wouldn’t dare,” I growled.

“We'll find out in an hour, and I promise you, son, you will lose more if he’s not found,” he warned, his voice heavy, and I could tell he meant every bit of it.

“You are the heir to the Vareli empire,” he spat, his eyes boring into mine. “Don’t ruin everything with your own fucking hands.”

I clenched my jaw, feeling the weight of the words press against my chest. The empire. My problem, apparently. And yet, all I could think was how much I hated being told what to do. “Yeah, well… maybe I like a little chaos,” I muttered under my breath, smirking despite the sting.

“Clock is ticking.”

He walked out, slamming the door right behind him.

“Fuck,” I muttered, running my hands through my hair.

“Don, what is—” Luciano my right hand man asked from the doorway.

“Get the trackers. We are leaving,” I said, walking out.

“I thought you said the king can find his silver spoon baby,” he taunted, his lips curling into a smirk.

“Put that mouth into good use, because when I lose the East Coast, you lose your head.”

“Sorry, Don, I’ll get the men ready,” he rushed off, disappearing down the stairs.

It had been twenty minutes, and everything was laid out, the trackers working on their laptops, Luciano taking out the firearms. I paced back and forth, my hands tucked behind my back, waiting.

“Don,” Fuego called, his eyes darting from the laptop to me.

“Speak.”

“There is no sign of him in the city. Do we check the borders?”

“Do the needful. All warehouses, secret hideouts, make calls if necessary,” I ordered.

The laptops flickered with red dots, each one blinking briefly before vanishing. Fuego’s fingers flew over the keys as he rerouted signals, muttering under his breath. Every ping or glitch made my pulse spike, one missed update could cost me everything.

I walked to the cellar, taking out the whiskey and pouring it into a glass, then sat down. The hot liquid burned in my throat, but the sensation was not enough to quench this anger.

It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours, and he was already costing me more than my time.

“Anything?” Luciano asked, tossing the gun to my side. The thud as it hit the floor made the room feel heavier, the tension almost tactile.

“The person who took him must have planned this ahead of us,” I answered vaguely.

“That’s strange.”

“More like a mole in the castle. There were no mistakes made.”

“Doesn’t he have a tracker on him like his brother?”

I took in a deep breath, a full ache forming in my chest, but I had to mask it first. Shifting uncomfortably in my chair, I gulped down the remaining whiskey at a go. If I didn’t bring him back, that meant failing a debt I could never ignore. I'd be letting someone down who had once counted on me and losing loyalty was far worse than territory itself.

My palms itched against the table edge as I gripped it, restless.

“Make the call,” I ordered.

“That man hates your guts, and when he gets the news, he’ll probably strangle you through the call.”

My lips tugged to a smirk, my expression cold. Even if he was right, he knew I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

The phone rang twice before it got answered. Luciano then put it on speaker.

“Royal household. This is the butler speaking. How may I be of help?”

“I need to speak directly to the king.”

“And who is this?”

“Don Aziel.”

“A moment please.”

The line went mute for five minutes before someone finally spoke.

“Hello,” finally the king said, his voice unmistakably irritated.

“We have a problem.”

“If this is about Zarek being stubborn, rest assured I’ve had enough for today. Tell him I’ll cut his allowance.”

“He’s been kidnapped,” I said, not having the time to mince my words.

“How did that happen? I thought you—”

“I need the coordinates for his tracker as we speak.”

“Get Hillary this instant!” he barked at the other end. “Aziel, if anything happens to my son, you—”

I cut the call, tossing the phone aside. Another lecture would give me migraines at this point.

Luciano’s laughter rumbled through the room, and everyone turned to look at him as he leaned casually against the wall.

“Remind me why you are still my right-hand man?”

“I’m the best. That’s no way to speak to your king, Don.”

I glanced at my watch. We were forty minutes down. My impatience clawed at me, but I forced it down. I poured another glass of whiskey, toying with it in my hands. This better not be one of my enemies, because I was in a mood to rip someone apart.

“We got him,” Fuego announced.

I got up just as Luciano swung the door open. “Get moving,” he ordered, and the clicking of arms as the men jogged out made the air tense.

I strode out, four men following directly behind as we got into the cars.

The cars moved at a swift speed, and soon we arrived at the south border secret hideout. My palms itched against the gun, the leather grip slick with sweat.

The first team moved with me, Luciano’s following behind.

I strode toward the back exit, scanning the ground. “Split into two teams. Front covers. I take the back,” I ordered.

Every man snapped into position, rifles at the ready, moving with precision. No hesitation.

I spotted the trail, subtle but deliberate, leading straight toward the rear gate.

“This way,” I barked, already moving.

Something didn’t sit right. Whoever did this wanted to be followed.

“Surround the entire area,” I ordered. “The prince comes out unharmed. Anyone else, rip there hurts out."

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