Chapter 27: Collateral

Morning arrived, sly and bright.

Sunlight swept across the penthouse, golden and smooth, as if the city had decided to be kind for once. Ares stood at the counter, sleeves pushed up, scrolling through reports on his tablet. He looked calm too calm, Isla thought.

That stillness. It always surfaced before something happened.

She poured coffee, the hush between them pretending to be peaceful. It didn’t quite succeed.

“Did you sleep?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

He waited a moment. Softer, “You?”

He shook his head. “Work.”

That word felt different now. Not meetings. No deals. Just work the kind that devoured sleep and left nothing gentle behind.

They stood there for a while, sharing the kitchen but not quite the air. A ceasefire, fragile as glass.

Then her phone buzzed.

Once.

Twice.

Again.

Isla’s frown deepened. She set her mug down, and saw Maya’s name flash on the screen.

She answered just before the fourth ring.

“Isla?” Maya’s voice was thin, tight. “I—I didn’t know who else to call.”

Isla’s stomach dropped. “What happened?”

“There were people here this morning. Reporters. They said they were ‘verifying background details.’ They asked about you. Your foster care. Stuff I can’t believe they knew.”

Isla closed her eyes.

That cold, crawling feeling not quite panic, but close enough to sting.

“Did you talk to them?” she asked, voice low.

“No. I told them to go. But Isla… they already knew too much.”

Isla let out a slow breath. “I’m sorry.”

Maya gave a weak laugh. “Don’t be. This isn’t your fault. I'm just okay?”

Isla glanced at Ares. He’d gone completely still, watching her.

“I will be,” she said. “Promise.”

When the call ended, silence crashed in, heavy and sudden.

“They went after her,” Isla said, steady but shaking inside. “Not me.”

Ares’ jaw tightened. “I’ll take care of it.”

“No,” Isla shot back.

He looked up, sharp.

“I won’t let this spill onto people who never signed up for it,” she said. “Maya’s not part of this. She doesn’t deserve to be in the crossfire.”

His eyes darkened. “That wasn’t my call.”

“But what you do next is.”

The words landed no blame, just truth.

Ares turned away, running a hand through his hair. “Seraphina crossed a line.”

“She drew it herself,” Isla said.

He grabbed his phone, thumb hesitating.

“Wait,” Isla said. “Listen to me first.”

He stopped.

She came closer. “You don’t get to protect me by hurting everyone else. If that’s the cost, I’d rather face it head-on.”

He studied her, as if seeing something new and unyielding.

“You don’t know how she works,” he said.

“I know enough,” Isla replied. “She doesn’t have to break me. She just needs to make everyone afraid to stand near me.”

That struck home.

Ares’ expression shifted icy and focused now.

“You told me not to shut you out,” he said. “This is what that means.”

He moved deliberately, sure. He made the call.

“Pull everything Sharpe touched in the last six months,” he said into the phone. “Quietly. Patterns only. No noise.”

He hung up before anyone could reply.

Isla watched him, her heart finding its rhythm again. This wasn’t anger.

This was the purpose.

By afternoon, the aftermath was already moving quietly, efficiently, almost surgical.

An article vanished before it could trend. A rumor fizzled. A request for comment, gone.

But you can’t erase damage.

Isla curled on the couch, knees drawn up, scrolling past messages she didn’t want to answer. Old friends, numbers she barely remembered, all pretending to care.

Ares sat across from her, watching. Waiting. Tension wound tight.

“She wanted you scared,” he said. “Wanted you to hide. To break.”

“And?” Isla said.

“And you didn’t.”

She met his eyes. “Neither did you.”

The truth settled between them thin, but real.

That night, as dusk dissolved into black, Ares stood at the window, phone to his ear.

“Yes,” he said, voice low. “I’m sure.”

A pause.

“No, not public. Not yet.”

Another pause.

“Make her feel the pressure where she can’t hold on, not her reputation.”

He hung up and turned.

Isla didn’t ask what he’d set in motion.

She already knew this wasn’t about defense anymore.

Across the city, Seraphina Sharpe smiled for the cameras at some charity dinner, perfect as ever, glass in hand.

She had no idea.

The board had shifted.

This war wasn’t quiet now.