The heavy armored door of the Maybach slammed shut. The chaotic noise of the city vanished instantly, replaced by a suffocating, soundproof silence.
Aria pressed herself tightly against the cold leather door panel. She kept her eyes locked on the man sitting casually on the opposite side of the spacious back seat.
Kieran Cross.
The ambient street lights strobed across his sharp features as the heavy vehicle sped away from the Syndicate auction house. He loosened his silk tie slowly, his movements deliberate and entirely unbothered by the tense atmosphere.
"You are remarkably quiet," Kieran observed, pouring a glass of amber liquid from the crystal decanter resting on the center console. "Most acquisitions spend their first hour weeping or begging for their miserable lives."
"I am not an acquisition," Aria stated, her voice trembling slightly before hardening into solid steel. "And I have absolutely nothing to say to the man who ordered my father executed."
Kieran took a slow sip of his drink. His piercing blue eyes never left her face.
"Your father was a very complicated man, Aria," Kieran said smoothly. "He built the infrastructure for every major crime family in this city. The Architect. A brilliant moniker for a man who designed the perfect hiding spots for billions of dollars of illicit Syndicate funds."
"He was a good man," Aria shot back, her chest tightening with fresh, agonizing grief. "He wanted out of your dark world. That is exactly why you killed him."
"He was a thief," Kieran corrected her calmly, swirling the liquor in his glass. "He stole a very specific encrypted drive before he died. A drive that belongs exclusively to me. And now, you are going to tell me exactly where he hid it."
"I do not know anything about a drive," Aria gritted her teeth. She subtly slipped her trembling fingers into the deep pocket of her oversized coat. Her fingertips brushed against the cold metal of a tactical pen. She had swiped it from the tactical vest of the enforcer who shoved her into the elevator ten minutes ago.
"Do not lie to me," Kieran warned, setting his glass down with a heavy thud. "You are worth fifty million dollars to me alive. Do not make me question that massive investment."
"Or what?" Aria challenged, leaning forward slightly, letting the pure rage replace her paralyzing fear. "You will sell me back to Vargas? Let the cartel have me for their twisted games?"
Kieran laughed softly. The sound was utterly devoid of warmth.
"Hector Vargas is a dying dog," Kieran replied, looking out the tinted window at the glowing city skyline. "The Syndicate is fracturing from the inside. The old bosses are getting sloppy and greedy. Vargas thought he could use you to access your father's hidden accounts and buy his way into a higher seat at the ruling table. I simply removed you from his board. You belong to me now. You are under my absolute jurisdiction."
"I belong to no one," Aria spat fiercely. "I am not property."
"Your father thought the exact same thing," Kieran said, his gaze snapping back to her with lethal intensity. "He thought he could outsmart the entire underworld. He believed he could secure his grand legacy and keep you completely isolated from his countless sins. But look where you are right now. Wearing filthy rags, sold to the highest bidder like cheap cattle, and sitting trapped in my car."
"He tried to protect me!" Aria yelled, her voice echoing loudly in the enclosed space.
"And he failed miserably," Kieran countered without missing a single beat. "His protection was an illusion. The Syndicate has eyes everywhere. He left you completely blind to the real dangers of this city. The drive he stole contains the identities of every corrupt politician on our payroll. If that information leaks to the public, the entire power structure of the city collapses."
"Good," Aria sneered, her eyes burning with unshed tears. "I hope it all burns to the ground. I hope you all destroy each other."
"If the Syndicate burns, you burn with it," Kieran stated coldly, leaning much closer to her. "You are holding the match, Aria. You just do not realize it yet. He died because he was weak. He hesitated when he should have struck. In my world, hesitation is an automatic death sentence."
That was the absolute breaking point.
The overwhelming grief mutated instantly into pure, blinding fury. The thought of this monster mocking her father's sacrifice shattered her remaining restraint.
Aria gripped the stolen tactical pen tightly, her knuckles turning completely white. She did not hesitate for a single second.
She lunged violently across the wide leather seat, driving the heavy metal point directly toward the vulnerable carotid artery on the left side of his neck. It was a flawless, lethal strike. A desperate, calculated move taught to her during secret training sessions in their old basement.
She expected the satisfying sink of metal into warm flesh.
Instead, her wrist slammed into a literal wall of solid muscle.
Kieran moved with terrifying, unnatural speed. His large hand clamped down around her forearm like an unyielding steel vice, halting the deadly pen mere millimeters from his skin. The sheer crushing force of his grip sent a sickening shockwave of numb pain radiating all the way up to her shoulder.
Aria gasped loudly, trying to pull back her arm, but she was completely trapped. His grip was impossible to break.
"Let go of me!" Aria screamed, her free hand clawing desperately at his chest.
"You are fast," Kieran noted, his voice entirely devoid of panic.
With a fluid, effortless motion, Kieran twisted her arm sharply. The agonizing pressure forced her fingers to open. The tactical pen clattered harmlessly onto the plush floor mats below.
Before Aria could even process the disarmament, Kieran shifted his massive weight. He shoved her backward forcefully, pinning her shoulders hard against the soft leather seats. His large body hovered directly over hers, completely caging her in without fully resting his weight on her.
The sudden, intimate proximity was incredibly overwhelming. She could smell the expensive bergamot cologne mixed with the sharp metallic scent of pure danger radiating from him. She thrashed wildly, kicking her legs in a desperate bid for freedom, but he casually trapped her knees with his own, rendering her completely immobilized.
"I said let me go!" Aria yelled, turning her face away from his intense, burning stare.
Kieran did not move an inch. He simply reached up slowly with his free hand and touched his sharp jawline.
The very tip of the pen had managed to graze him just a fraction of a second before he stopped her hand. A single, bright bead of crimson blood swelled on his pale skin. He stared at the fresh blood on his fingertips for a long, agonizingly silent moment.
Aria stopped struggling immediately, her heart hammering violently against her ribs. She braced herself for the inevitable retaliation. A brutal strike. A terrifying threat. A dark promise of endless torture.
But when Kieran finally looked back down at her, the cold, dead expression in his eyes had completely vanished.
He did not look angry at all.
He looked utterly fascinated.
A dark, incredibly dangerous smile slowly curved his lips, transforming his terrifying presence into something even more captivating and lethal.
"Your father taught you well," Kieran whispered softly, his deep, rumbling voice vibrating in the quiet cabin. "Let us see what else you are hiding."