The Betrayal in the Dark
Cold.
That was the first thing I felt.
Cold concrete under my knees.
Cold metal biting into my wrists.
Cold air scraping my lungs with every shallow breath.
A soft groan escaped me, muffled by the cloth stuffed into my mouth.
My head throbbed — sharp pulsing pain behind my eyes — like someone slammed my skull against something hard.
I winced, blinking against the darkness.
Where… am I?
I tried to move.
Chains clinked.
My heartbeat spiked.
My wrists were bound behind my back.
My ankles shackled to a rusted hook drilled deep into the floor.
A gag tied so tight I could barely swallow.
Panic crawled up my spine.
This wasn't a shed or a basement.
It looked older.
Dirt on the ground.
Cobwebs in the corners.
A broken window high above letting in a thin sliver of moonlight.
An old storage room?
I tugged on the chains again.
They didn't budge.
My breath came quicker, too loud in the quiet.
Then—
Footsteps.
Slow.
Unhurried.
Purposeful.
My stomach dropped.
I froze completely, every muscle locking tight.
The footsteps stopped just a few feet away.
I lifted my head.
And my entire world shattered.
Jason.
Standing in front of me, smiling like he was seeing an old friend.
Jason.
My Jason.
My best friend.
My safe place.
My protector.
Except he wasn't any of those things now.
He looked different.
Sharper.
Colder.
Eyes too calm for the situation.
His hands were in his pockets.
His posture relaxed.
Too relaxed.
Like he was happy to be here.
My mind screamed.
Why?
I tried to speak, but the gag turned everything into panicked, muffled sounds.
Jason crouched down, face inches from mine.
"Auri," he said softly, like we were having coffee. "You're awake."
My breathing hitched.
"I was worried they hit you too hard," he continued. His smile widened a fraction. "But you always were strong."
My eyes burned with confusion… betrayal… fear.
Jason reached out and brushed a strand of hair from my face.
I jerked away instinctively.
He stopped, hand hanging in the air.
Then he chuckled — low, quiet — and it didn't sound like him at all.
"You're wondering why I'm here," he murmured. "Why I did this."
Tears stung my eyes.
Jason leaned closer, close enough for me to feel his breath.
"You shouldn't have married him."
My blood went cold.
He kept smiling.
"You shouldn't have chosen him over me."
My heart twisted so hard I thought I might black out.
He reached behind my head and pulled the gag loose. It dropped to the floor, wet with spit.
My throat burned as I forced out a whisper:
"Jason… why?"
His smile vanished.
Just vanished — like a mask slipping.
"Because," he said, voice low and venomous,
"you were supposed to be mine."
A tear slid down my cheek.
"And now," he added, brushing his knuckles along my jaw,
"I'm finally taking you back."
I flinched away, tears spilling faster.
"Don't cry," he whispered. "I hate when you cry for him."
"Jason, listen to me," I rasped. "When Kieran finds out? He'll end you. Let me go before it's too late."
He stood abruptly. He knew Kieran would stop at nothing to find me.
He knew he couldn't hide me for long.
But then he said something that drained the life out of me.
"Kieran can't rescue you if you're dead, right?"
———————
The Moment the Monster Wakes
The room was silent.
Silent… except for the endless flicker of security feeds covering the walls.
Street corners. Alleys. Highway entrances. Back-road checkpoints.
Dozens of screens glowing in the dim light.
Kieran stood in the center of them all.
White shirt on, sleeves rolled to his elbows.
Buttons undone just enough for the muscle and tattoo across his chest to show — the mark of his family, his legacy, his rage.
His jaw was clenched so tight the veins in his neck were visible.
He hadn't slept.
He hadn't sat.
He hadn't breathed properly since she disappeared.
And the camera on West Briar Road…the last camera she appeared on…had been tampered with.
Someone had cut the feed.
Someone bold.
Someone stupid.
Someone dead.
Kieran's fist slammed against the edge of the control table, making two monitors rattle.
"Find who touched that camera," he snapped.
"Yes, sir—"
"And if you come back empty-handed," Kieran growled without looking at the man,
"don't bother coming back at all."
The man fled.
Kieran ran a hand through his hair, chest rising and falling too fast.
He tried to focus, but all he saw…
All he kept seeing…
Was Aurielle.
Her smile.
Her soft voice.
The way she said his name.
And now she was gone.
Because he failed to protect her.
His phone rang.
He answered immediately.
"Tell me you found something."
But it wasn't his men.
It was the German Mafia.
The room grew colder.
"Kieran."
The voice was calm, almost bored.
"We heard you're looking for your wife."
"My wife is missing," Kieran said, each word gritted. "If this is your doing—"
"It isn't," the man cut in. "We have no interest in your woman. Or your country's business."
Kieran didn't believe him.
But something in the man's voice… told him the Germans weren't lying.
"Then don't waste my time," he snapped and ended the call so violently the phone nearly cracked.
He wanted to break something.
Break someone.
Preferably the man who dared touch Aurielle.
A memory flashed:
Kendella.
Her face turning purple under his hand as he slammed her against her own wall.
"Where is she?"
His voice had shaken the whole house.
"I—I don't know!" she sobbed, clawing at his wrist. "Kieran, please!"
Her mother threw herself between them.
"Kieran!! Let her go."
That was the only reason he didn't snap Kendella's neck right there.
He pushed away from her, shaking with enough fury to crack bone.
That was hours ago.
Now he was worse.
A knock.
His right-hand man rushed into the tracking room.
"Boss… we found something."
Kieran lifted his head slowly — dangerously.
The man swallowed and handed him a tablet.
Jason Crowe.
A face appeared.
A face Kieran recognized.
Not personally…
But from somewhere important.
Aurielle's friend.
Her best friend.
The man she trusted.
But the file said:
Former low-grade criminal.
Kidnapping charge.
Petty theft.
Drug trafficking.
Worked under a cartel before 'going clean.'
Kieran's hand tightened around the tablet until the plastic creaked.
"Jason…" he repeated softly.
Pieces clicked.
Not enough for a picture —
but enough to sharpen his rage to a blade.
"That's not everything, sir," his man whispered.
Kieran looked up.
"There's… something else."
A hesitant breath.
"It's about your wife's child."
Kieran went still.
"The doctor says the kid's condition is worsening. They need a blood donor immediately."
He blinked once. Slowly.
"How bad?" His voice was low enough to crack the air.
"Sir… the child is a blue baby. Born with a hole in his heart."
Everything in Kieran froze.
A blue baby.
The same condition he nearly died from as an infant.
The same defect carried through the D'Angelo bloodline.
His jaw clenched hard.
"Find a match," he said roughly. "If mine works… we do it. No questions."
"Yes, sir."
"Call the hospital," he ordered. "Tell them I'm on my way."
"Yes, Boss."
Then he walked out of the tracking room — unaware that the truth waiting for him at the hospital was about to change everything.