Maddox’s POV:
I’d spent weeks trying to track this ghost—paying Jayden under the table, slipping him my phone’s logs, chasing shadows through burner numbers and encrypted calls.
And now here he was, sitting across from like we’d scheduled a coffee date.
"You," I breathed, straining against the ropes. "What did you do? How did you..."
The auto-tune laughed, cutting off in a recognized echoing sound that always crawled under my skin.
"Since you were looking for ... I decided to co and see you instead." the voice muttered, then took in a deep breath before continuing.
"Don’t waste your ti tracking , Maddox. Everything you do, I know."
I glanced at Jayden, his head lolling to the side, blood trickling from a gash on his temple like a zombie.
They’d beaten him bad—probably to make a point.
"You didn’t have to do this," I said, voice low but trying to sound tough.
"We’re on the sa side and our plan is working successfully. I just wanted to et you and at least thank you, I didn’t an any harm. I even have a gift to...."
"Stick to the plan," the voice cut in, sharp as a blade. "And shouldn’t dare to outsmart . I didn’t co to do anything—just a friendly warning."
The guards shifted, a subtle reminder of the firepower in the room. My mouth went dry, words were refusing to form again. This wasn’t the shadowy ally I’d imagined.
For God sake this was a mother fucking predator, and I was the mouse who’d wandered too close to the trap.
He stood slowly, the hoodie casting his masked face in deeper shadow. The room felt smaller as the wind dramatically began blowing from nowhere.
He walked toward slowly, with each step asured deliberately. Then leaned in so close I could sll the faint tallic tang of the auto-tune device under his mask.
"I have a gift for you ...waiting inside your house," he whispered, the voice modulator making it sound like a robot’s threat. "Sothing you’ve been dying for. Take it as my way of apologizing for approaching you this way."
I swallowed hard as his fingers brushed mine unconsciously. "What gift?" I breathed out.
Even though I couldn’t see his face, I still felt like my question got him smirking. He stood still for a while, shook his head then straightened.
Whilst he was turning away he declared:
"Your father is waiting desperately at ho. I just saved you from beatings today. You can thank later."
The words landed like a punch to the gut. Dad is at ho by this ti? I an he wasn’t at ho when I left.
And sohow the boss knew? Knew about the beatings, the bruises I’d hidden since I was a kid and the way Dad’s "discipline" left marks that faded but never really went away?
But how? No one knew that, not even my close friends or even Kianna.
"How did you know?" I voiced it out before I could even think of it. But he ignored , letting my question hang in the air.
Then he walked past without another word with his guards falling in step like silent wraiths.
The door slamd shut behind them, the echo ringing in my ears. One guard lingered, his eyes stared at coldly as he pulled a knife from his belt.
I tensed a bit, thinking he might have been asked to stab us, but he just cut the ropes—first mine, then Jayden’s...with quick, precise slices.
"Don’t follow," he grunted, then vanished through the door.
I rubbed my wrists, there were red faint wounds in the area where the robe was tired, then knelt beside Jayden.
"Jay? Wake up, man." I shook him gently. He groaned, eyes fluttering open, but he was weak—beaten to shit, ribs probably cracked. "What happened?"
"They... jumped ," he rasped, wincing. "He knew I was tracking him... he intruded into this room under a pizza delivery pretense."
"Damnit." I uttered through clenched teeth. " I’m so sorry for this man. I never saw this coming."
He just nodded weakly, from his beaten face you could see he had thousands of questions to ask about him. But I can’t answer any of them because I don’t know anything about him..not even his na.
I helped Jayden to his bed in the next room, the apartnt looked wrecked: computers smashed with it wires yanked out like guts.
But Jayden has told , those computers were spoilt ones.
I called a nurse from Dad’s private list—the kind who didn’t ask questions for the right price.
She arrived twenty minutes later, bag in hand, and got to work without a word, injecting painkillers and wrapping bandages.
While she worked, I paced the living room, mind racing. That psycho was more dangerous than Mordred could ever dream, he’s a headache and pain in the ass.
He’d known about my tracking attempt before I’d even started. Knew about Dad’s temper and even the beatings that left cowering in closets as a kid.
He knew things no one should know. And the guards? The setup? This wasn’t the work of a random sadist. This was organized and powerful, the kind of influence that could crush families like mine without breaking a sweat.
And I have a feeling this isn’t just a normal fight, it goes much deeper than it seems.
My phone buzzed inside my pocket mid pace. It’s a text from the boss with an attached photo of Dad in a hotel balcony, tangled intimately with his secretary, mid-act, the city skyline glittering behind them.
The text says, "You’ll need this to defend yourself soday."
I stared at it, bile rising in my throat. How? When? The tistamp was from last week—Dad’s "business trip" to New York.
The boss had eyes everywhere. Inside hotels and even inside lives. What the hell was I dealing with?
Fear crept in, but I brushed it off imdiately, fear isn’t allowed in the body of soone like . I’m Maddox Bianchi. I would do just fine.
At first I thought I was in control and was using his plan to get Kianna back and also ruin Mordred. But now? I was a pawn.
Things were escalating, and I wasn’t holding the strings anymore. One wrong move, and this psycho could end my entire family—expose Dad’s affair, tank the business, or worse.
"Ahh Damnit! Fuck you Whoever you are!" I yelled in frustration. I feel like going insane right now.
Throw my phone against the wall? I did, watching it crack and skitter across the floor.
I ran a hand through my hair, pulling hard enough to hurt. I needed to plan carefully, before shit got dirtier than I could handle.
I grabbed a bottle of water from Jayden’s kitchen, sipped a bit and used the rest to wash my face.
The nurse finished with Jayden and left without a backward glance.
One of our mutual friends showed up minutes later—I’d texted him on the way, told him what happened and asked him to watch over Jay.
"Keep him safe," I said. "And quiet."
I drove back ho in a haze of anger, fear, and frustration, the sports car eating up the miles like it was running from the sa demons.
Who was this boss? How did he know about Dad’s affair? What does he really want from Kianna or Mordred? Revenge? Or sothing worse.
These questions continued to swim through my thoughts as I drove. I needed answers, but how? I’m dealing with soone who has more power than I do.
The kind that could buy silver cards for Pearl Street, orchestrate setups like the one that broke Kianna and Mordred’s relation and even know when my old man was flying back ho.
After driving for a few minutes which felt like an hour, I finally got ho.
The garage door rumbled open as I pulled in, and there it was: Dad’s sleek rcedes, parked like a sentinel.
Just as the boss had said. My heart raced, that old trauma kicking in—the way my stomach would drop as a kid when I heard his car in the drive, knowing the belt or the fist was coming if I’d "disappointed" him again.
I stepped inside, the house quiet except for the low murmur of voices from the study.
Dad was there, his silver hair perfectly combed, suit impeccable, sitting with his "associates"—n in dark suits who looked like they could snap necks without spilling their scotch.
He paused mid-sentence when I entered, his cold eyes locking on . That stare, the one that always made feel small and pathetic. My pulse spiked, bracing for the explosion.
But then his expression changed surprisingly. A rare, most delightful smile spread across his face.
"Maddox," he said, standing and clapping on the shoulder. "Good job, son. Connecting with your friend’s father? Smart move. The deal’s already in motion."
I blinked, confusion crashing over . "What friend?"
He waved it off, turning back to his n. "Doesn’t matter. Keep it up." He said and laughed awkwardly with his n.
No beating. No lecture. Just... approval? How? I’m I not the pathetic failure he always regretted having? And at this mont he’s even praising in front of his co-business partners, people he always compared their children to .
This felt like a dream, the type I’ve been working my ass off to achieve, my sole goal in life as a child.
And he just handed it over to on a silver platter within a few minutes?
Without pushing further, I retreated to my room. And after the door clicked shut behind , I began processing everything again.
What the hell? Which "friend"? What deal? Did the boss orchestrate this too? Saved from a beating, like he’d whispered?
My phone buzzed again, it’s a text from him saying.
" Hope you enjoyed my surprise, stick to the plan...and we’ll both achieve our dreams. You’re in it more than you realize."
I sank onto my bed, the weight of it all crushing down. The boss wasn’t just helping , he was pulling strings I didn’t even know existed, and playing gas with too.
This scars more than Mordred ever could. How far could he go?
One wrong move, and everything I’m struggling to have: Kianna, my family and my life—would crumble.
But for the first ti, I wondered if the boss was the real enemy all along. And can I trust him by playing along with his risky gas?
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