Semua Bab His Enemy, His Obsession: Bab 31 - Bab 40

ON“THIS IS A GODDAMN SUICIDE MISSION.”I can feel the vein in my temple throbbing against the onset of a migraine as I pace the length of the Hudson Valley kitchen. Zli just stands there, adjusting a pair of heavy, dark sunglasses and pulling a charcoal-grey baseball cap low over his brow.“We have to keep Callum in the loop, Ron,” Zli says, his voice flat and analytical, the way he sounds when he’s staring at a balance sheet of blood money. “He’s my field lead. He has a right to know that the Crimson Dragons are currently hunting him as the primary suspect in the Club Ombra hit.”I grunt, my dissatisfaction radiating in waves. Everything about this meeting with his ex-partner—and whatever history they have that Zli refuses to label—feels like we’re hand-delivering our heads to the Matriarch. But Zli insisted. He has this code, this rigid Agency loyalty that I haven't been able to fuck or reason out of him yet.It’s late afternoon when we reach the neutral ground: a busy stretch of t

RON“THIS ISN'T JUST A HEADACHE, IS IT?”Zli’s voice is a soft anchor in the drowning sea of my own agony. I’m sprawled on the leather sofa of the Hudson Valley estate, the room dimmed to a graveyard's hush. Every time my heart beats, it feels like a serrated blade is twisting behind my right eye. It’s an old friend, this pain—a familiar demon that has shared my skull for twenty years.Zli is kneeling beside me, his hands remarkably steady for a man who just witnessed a murder. He’s already worked off my boots and is now peeling back the blood-soaked towel I’d pressed to my temple. I hiss, my body jerking in a reflexive attempt to pull away from the sting.“Stay with me, Ron,” he murmurs, his tone shifting from tactical analyst to something terrifyingly tender. “You’re losing a lot of blood, and your pupils are different sizes. Talk to me. Don’t you dare drift off.”“Kitchen cabinet,” I grunt, the words vibrating like tectonic plates in my jaw. “Second shelf. The amber bottle. It’s he

ZLI“You trusted me to stay in the brownstone, Ron,” I mutter to the empty living room. “And I’m sitting here keeping secrets from you before the ink on our truce is even dry.”The silence of the Hudson Valley estate is heavy, almost suffocating. Ron had to head into the city for a mandatory Crimson Dragons summit—something about keeping up appearances with the Castellano family and managing the fallout from our little "disagreement" at the docks. It was the perfect window for Lydia "LIL" Moretti to slip in and deliver her warnings, but now that she’s gone, I’m left with a head full of noise and a mysterious videotape sitting on the TV console like a live grenade.The estate doesn't have a VCR. In this temple of glass and high-end tech, a magnetic tape is a fossil. I consider driving into the city to find an electronics shop in the Village, but my gut tells me to stay put. My presence in New York is already a blinking red light on every radar.To distract myself, I flip open Ron's lap

RON“Ronan, I hope you aren’t trying to slither out of here like a snake before the final toast.”I stop dead at the sound of my mother addressing me. It’s the first time we’ve been alone all night, away from the prying eyes of the Castellano capos. Theresa "Tess" Nalila is draped in a crimson gown that looks like dried blood, her gold watch catching the light as she crosses her arms. Despite the celebratory music drifting from the ballroom, her face is a mask of stone.We’ve wound up near the entrance of The Vesuvius Room. The rest of the syndicate is on the opposite side of the gold-leafed hall, laughing and drinking to a merger built on corpses.“I have a migraine, Mother. I need to go,” I say, the lie tasting like ash.“Stop lying. I know you’ve been up to no good lately. Those nights in Brooklyn weren't spent at a poker table.” She steps closer, the scent of her expensive perfume clashing with the sterile smell of the hotel. “If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’ll let you suf

RON“My mother’s discovered Zli is with the Financial Crimes Unit, and everything went to hell from there.”“Crazy shit!” Julian exclaims. While I’m vibrating with a fury so hot it’s turning into a cold, focused burn, Julian looks like he’s on the most thrilling ride of his life. He twists in the passenger seat of the Porsche to address the man sitting in the back. “Wow, Ledger. You’re one relentless guy! I’d never want to get on your bad side. Infiltrating a Vesuvius Room gala at the Bellgrave? What a night!”Zli doesn’t respond. He’s staring out the window as the sleek skyscrapers of Manhattan zip by, the city lights blurring into long, neon streaks. Even in the dim light of the cabin, I can see the heavy, hollow look in his eyes.Callum Hart is dead, and I know exactly what’s going through Zli’s analytical mind. He’s calculating the blame, and the decimal point is landing squarely on himself.Callum died trying to protect him. He died because Zli wouldn't let the mission go. I know