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Chapter Twenty-Two - The Meeting and the Siren
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2025-12-16 11:40:19I didn’t bother unchaining her for the meeting.
That alone made my men uneasy.
Aria stood at my side in the strategy room, wrists still cuffed, the chain clipped to a heavy ring bolted into the floor beneath the table. She didn’t look restrained. She looked coiled—eyes sharp, posture relaxed, like she was daring someone to underestimate her.
The table was already covered in maps, photos, and timelines. Marco, Rocco, and two of my lieutenants stood waiting. Conversation died the second they noticed her.
Good.
“Sit,” I ordered.
They did.
I gestured to the maps. “The Sage twins have pushed into Fifth Avenue. We know that. What we don’t know is how they’re staying three steps ahead of us.”
Rocco pointed to a marked route. “We think they’re moving product through rotating fronts. Art galleries, pop-up events—”
“No,” Aria said calmly.
Every head snapped toward her.
Marco stiffened. “Boss—”
“Let her talk,” I said.
She leaned forward as far as the chain allowed, studying the map like it belonged to her.
“They’re not rotating,” she said. “They’re staging.”
“Explain,” I said.
She tapped one of the locations. “This isn’t a distribution point. It’s a distraction. Same with this one. Too visible. Too loud.”
Her finger slid to a quieter side street. “This is where the real movement is. Low foot traffic. High security cameras. Clean exits.”
Silence.
Rocco frowned. “How do you know?”
She looked up at him. “Because that’s how my father operates.”
That landed.
I watched my men recalibrate in real time.
I nodded once. “She’s right. Adjust surveillance. Quiet routes only.”
Marco hesitated. “Boss… are we really trusting her?”
I met his eyes. “We’re trusting results.”
Aria didn’t smile. She didn’t need to.
I was about to ask her another question when the room changed.
Not gradually.
Instantly.
The alarm screamed.
Red lights strobed overhead. Radios crackled to life all at once.
“CONTACT—MULTIPLE CONTACTS—”
“WEST HALL BREACHED—”
“WE’RE LOSING MEN—”
I was already moving.
“Lock the doors,” I barked. “Arm everyone.”
Aria went still.
Not panicked.
Focused.
Like she knew what was coming before the words finished spilling from the radios.
Rocco’s voice came through again, strained. “Boss—whoever this is, they’re not slowing down. They’re executing.”
Executing.
Not a raid.
Not intimidation.
A purge.
I turned toward the live feed monitor just as a camera flickered back online.
One man.
Moving through my compound like he owned it.
Older. Calm. Methodical.
He didn’t rush. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t miss.
My stomach dropped.
Aria inhaled sharply.
“No,” she whispered.
I looked at her. “You know him.”
Her face had gone pale—not with fear, but with something colder.
“He’s my father’s oldest friend,” she said. “Since childhood.”
The man on-screen snapped a guard’s neck with horrifying efficiency and kept walking.
“He’s not a soldier,” she continued. “He’s not a captain. He’s not a messenger.”
“What is he?” Marco asked.
Her voice barely wavered.
“He’s employed to kill traitors.”
The room went dead silent.
Understanding hit like a blade between my ribs.
I looked at her slowly.
“If Vincenzo sent him here…”
Her eyes lifted to mine.
“…then he thinks I’ve betrayed him,” she finished. “Because I haven’t killed you yet.”
The alarm wailed on.
My men were dying in the halls.
And suddenly, Aria Moretti wasn’t just an asset.
She was a marked woman.
I grabbed my gun and turned toward the door.
“Then your father just made his biggest mistake.”
She straightened beside me, chain rattling softly.
“Which is?” she asked.
I met her gaze.
“He brought his executioner into my house.”
And for the first time since I’d met her—
I saw fear in her eyes.
Not for me.
For what came next.
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The King’s Wrong Captive Chapter Twenty-Four - The Choice
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The King’s Wrong Captive Chapter Twenty-Three - Outlawed
The cameras flickered across the screen in front of me, one feed after another lighting up the darkened strategy room.I wasn’t breathing.I watched Dante move through the compound with lethal calm, weapon in hand, body loose and ready. He didn’t rush. He didn’t hesitate. He went straight toward the west corridor.Straight toward Dale.My father’s favorite.My father’s oldest friend.Dale never failed. He’d always said the job mattered more than the cost. That if it killed him, so be it — the mission would still be finished.That was what made him dangerous.That was what made my father sending him here feel wrong.Until it didn’t.Because there was only one reason Dale would be inside this house.Not for territory.Not for Dante.For me.My father hadn’t just abandoned me.He’d outlawed me.The feed switched just as Dante stepped into the corridor.Dale was already there.Older now. Grayer. But his posture was exactly the same as I remembered — relaxed, patient, like violence was jus
The King’s Wrong Captive Chapter Twenty-Two - The Meeting and the Siren
I didn’t bother unchaining her for the meeting.That alone made my men uneasy.Aria stood at my side in the strategy room, wrists still cuffed, the chain clipped to a heavy ring bolted into the floor beneath the table. She didn’t look restrained. She looked coiled—eyes sharp, posture relaxed, like she was daring someone to underestimate her.The table was already covered in maps, photos, and timelines. Marco, Rocco, and two of my lieutenants stood waiting. Conversation died the second they noticed her.Good.“Sit,” I ordered.They did.I gestured to the maps. “The Sage twins have pushed into Fifth Avenue. We know that. What we don’t know is how they’re staying three steps ahead of us.”Rocco pointed to a marked route. “We think they’re moving product through rotating fronts. Art galleries, pop-up events—”“No,” Aria said calmly.Every head snapped toward her.Marco stiffened. “Boss—”“Let her talk,” I said.She leaned forward as far as the chain allowed, studying the map like it belon
The King’s Wrong Captive Chapter Twenty-One - Photos, Food, and Assets
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The King’s Wrong Captive Chapter Twenty - Pancakes and New Blood
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