The oak doors closed behind Rodey with a heavy thud. The scent of wine and smoke lingered in the great dining hall, where Dylan sat like a king at the head of the long table.
Across from him sat Alikae. Her arms were free, but her eyes were sharp, red from both rage and sleeplessness. She wasn't glaring at Dylan. She wasn't glaring at the guards.
She was glaring at him.
At Rodey.
Her lips curled into a half-smile, half-snarl. "So," she said, voice dripping with a mocking sweetness, "Mr. Flash finally decided he likes cages. Guess I should congratulate you. Not every man gets to trade his freedom for a shiny collar and call it victory."
The words stabbed sharper than any blade. Rodey's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "I thought you were different. I thought you'd spit in Dylan's face and say no, even if it meant watching me die. But nooo—here you are, playing the noble idiot. Guess what, Rodey? You didn't save me. You just dragged yourself down with me."
Her voice cracked, but she covered it with a mocking laugh. "What a pair we make. A pseudo-wife and her dumbass hero. Bravo."
Rodey's chest burned, but the chains around his wrists in his mind felt heavier than iron. He wanted to shout, to tell her he had no choice, but the words wouldn't come.
Dylan sipped his wine, watching them like a proud spectator at a play. Then he chuckled, slow and deep.
"How lovely you lovebirds are," Dylan said, his eyes glinting. "Fighting, mocking, bleeding for each other. A bond forged not in silk, but in fire and iron." He raised his glass. "To loyalty. To family. And to the wedding that binds you both in two weeks' time."
Alikae's laughter was bitter, raw, but it filled the hall like shattered glass. Rodey stayed silent, his fists clenched beneath the table.
The trap was sealed. And Dylan, the smiling King of Cards, had just crowned his pawns.
Rodey's fists curled so tight his knuckles ached. His voice cut through Dylan's laughter, low and steady.
"Leave us alone. You've had your show. Now go."
For a moment, the dining hall froze in silence. Dylan tilted his head back and let out a sharp bark of laughter.
"Ha! Bold. Just like your father." He rose, adjusting his cuffs with deliberate calm. "Very well. I'll grant the lovebirds their privacy. But remember…" His eyes glinted as he leaned close to Rodey, voice a whisper sharp as a blade. "…Every second I leave you breathing is a gift. Don't waste it."
He straightened, smirk lingering, and strode out with his guards. The doors boomed shut behind him.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Alikae was trembling—not with fear, but with fury. Her chair screeched back as she rose and stormed toward Rodey. Her fists clenched, her lips quivering between a snarl and a sob.
Then she broke.
Her fists crashed against his chest. Once. Twice. Again and again.
"Why?!" she cried, her voice shattering. "Why, why, why, WHY, WHY!" Each word was a hammer of grief and rage. She punched him until her knuckles reddened, until her breath tore itself ragged, until her eyes spilled over with tears that burned like fire.
Rodey didn't move. He didn't block her. He let every strike land, his jaw tight, his eyes heavy with guilt he couldn't voice.
"You were supposed to be free!" Alikae screamed, pounding against him until her strength gave out. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed against his chest, shaking. "You were supposed to run… even if it meant losing me. I was ready for it. I wanted it. Because at least one of us would've been free."
Her words sank like knives, and for the first time since it all began, Rodey's breath faltered.
His arms moved, slow, hesitant, wrapping around her trembling frame. "Alikae…" His voice was barely more than a whisper. "I couldn't. I couldn't watch you die. Not again. Not like my sister. Not like my mother. I—" His throat closed before he could finish.
Alikae's fists weakened against him. She pressed her forehead to his chest, tears spilling freely now. "You idiot," she whispered, voice breaking. "You damn, stupid, noble idiot…"
The weight of silence pressed down, but this time it was different. Not Dylan's silence. Not the silence of chains.
It was the silence of two broken hearts, bound tighter than either had wanted.
And somewhere beyond the doors, Dylan Dicosta was smiling—because he knew love was the cruelest leash of all.
Rodey held her tighter, his chest rising and falling like he was forcing breath into lungs that didn't want it. He could feel her trembling fists still pressed weakly against him. For a long moment, he was silent—then the words slipped out, almost too soft to be heard.
"I love you, Alikae."
Her whole body went rigid. Slowly, she tilted her head up, eyes still wet, strands of hair sticking to her cheeks.
"What… did you just say?"
Rodey swallowed hard. This time, his voice didn't falter. "I love you. I always have. And I was too much of a coward to say it before. But now—" His voice cracked, but he pushed through, "…if I'm chained, if I'm dying, if I'm forced to marry into this hell—I want you to at least know the truth."
Silence.
Then her fist slammed into his chest again—harder this time.
"You IDIOT!" she yelled, her tears mixing with a crooked, furious grin. "You absolute, dumb, selfish bastard! You choose NOW to confess?! When we're about to be married off like cattle?!" She punched him again, not pulling back, her voice climbing higher with each strike.
"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! You could've told me years ago!" Wham. "Do you have any idea how much you made me suffer?!" Wham. "And now you dump it on me—like this—like some tragic love ballad?!"
Her words tumbled out in a storm of fury and laughter, her cheeks flushed crimson. She cursed under her breath, half sobbing, half laughing. "Damn you, Rodey. Damn you for making me happy at the worst possible time."
Rodey winced with each blow but didn't stop her. Instead, he caught one of her fists mid-swing. His grip was firm but trembling. His eyes locked onto hers—burning, unflinching.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "But I'd rather you hate me for saying it too late… than regret never saying it at all."
Alikae's lips trembled. She tried to glare, but her face betrayed her—shy, angry, and achingly happy all at once. Finally, she let out a strangled laugh, shoving his chest with her free hand.
"You're the worst, Rodey." She sniffled, wiping her tears messily. "The absolute worst… and I hate how much I love that about you."
Her words hung between them, sharp and tender.
And for the first time since Dylan's shadow fell over them, something fragile but real sparked in the air—hope twisted into chaos, love blooming in chains.
Alikae's chest heaved, her fists still balled against Rodey's chest. Her lips trembled between a scowl and a shaky laugh.
"You're the worst… the absolute worst," she muttered again, her face flushed redder than blood.
Rodey didn't answer. He just looked at her—truly looked, like he was memorizing her every tear, every wrinkle of her stubborn frown.
That silence stretched too long. Too heavy. Too dangerous.
So Alikae snapped, growling through clenched teeth, "Don't you dare look at me like that right now! Don't you dare—"
She didn't finish.
Because Rodey leaned down, crushing his lips against hers.
It wasn't soft. It wasn't gentle. It was desperate, reckless, and rough—like two people who had been drowning for years and finally found air in each other.
Alikae gasped, her body tensing—but then her hands, once fists of fury, tangled into his shirt, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away. Her eyes shut tight, her trembling easing as her lips parted to meet his.
The French kiss deepened, messy and fierce, her breath mingling with his as though the whole world was collapsing and this was the only thing worth saving.
When they finally broke apart, Alikae's forehead rested against his, her lips still trembling.
"You're insane…" she whispered, her voice shaking. "…absolutely insane."
Rodey managed a faint, breathless smile. "Maybe. But I'm insane for you."
Her cheeks burned, but instead of answering, she punched his chest one last time—softly this time, almost tender. Then she buried her face against him, hiding the small, crooked smile that betrayed her.
And in the shadow of Dylan's empire, bound by chains and choices they couldn't yet escape… Rodey and Alikae sealed their truth, not with words, but with a kiss that defied everything around them.
Deniz
Alikae was still pressed against Rodey's chest, her fists weakly hitting him though her body refused to pull away. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips trembling as if words and emotions both tangled inside her. Rodey cupped her face with both hands, forcing her to look at him.
"I mean it," Rodey whispered, his forehead pressing against hers. "You're the one I—"
Before he could finish, Alikae's lips brushed against his in another desperate kiss. It wasn't gentle; it was wild, unsteady, filled with the fear that any second could take one away from the other. Rodey's arms slid around her waist, drawing her closer, and Alikae responded instinctively, fingers gripping the back of his shirt as though letting go would kill her.
The kiss deepened, breaths grew shorter, and her trembling body melted against his. For a brief moment, the world outside ceased to exist—just two broken souls finding fire in each other's wounds.
Then—
Clap. Clap.
A slow, mocking sound broke the heat in the air.
"Well, well…" Deniz leaned against the doorframe, smirking, eyes glinting with amusement. "You two really know how to load my gun with bullets."
The words carried a sharp, double meaning that made Alikae instantly push herself away, cheeks burning red. "That wasn't funny at all, Deniz!" she snapped, hugging her arms around herself.
Deniz only chuckled, strolling in casually as if nothing sacred had just been interrupted.
In a separate room, away from the tension, Dylan poured himself a drink. The glass trembled slightly in his hand, though his smirk never wavered.
"Hussain, you stupid…" he muttered to himself, swirling the liquid. "How will I ever tell Rodey that he's my son—not yours?"
For a moment, the words hung heavy in the empty room, almost as if they might echo back to him. Then, Dylan's smirk widened into a laugh—low, bitter, and self-mocking.
"I gave him to you," he whispered, staring into the amber liquid, "to keep him away from the crime world. To keep him safe from… me."
He downed the drink in one swift motion, his face shadowed by thoughts too heavy for words. Yet even as he set the glass down, his eyes burned with questions that clawed at the walls of his mind.