AUTHOR'S POV

Elitestone Hospital,
07:47 a.m.

Zoe bumped into the door as she rushed into Evan's cabin, her heart racing at the sight of Dash. The moment felt electric, stirring a whirlwind of emotions inside her. It's been super awkward between them ever since that kiss.

Evan glanced up, noticing her panting heavily, a hint of concern etched on his face. "Him again?" he asked, setting his pen down and watching her lean against the wall, trying to catch her breath. "How long are you gonna avoid him?" His voice was calm as he sighed.

"I don't know. I just... I never know," she sighed, frustration bubbling to the surface. Her heart felt heavy, torn between her feelings for Dash and the darker reality of his life.

"Give him a chance," Evan urged, his tone shifting to one of encouragement. His eyes searched hers, as if trying to pull her back from the edge of her doubts. "I know it's not easy, but that guy... he won't let anyone get near you as long as he's around." He continued, "I can tell he's genuine despite-

"Despite the fact that he kills people, drugs them, works for a mafia, is a gangster," she interrupted, her voice rising with indignation. The weight of his choices pressed down on her, making her chest tighten. "How can you even suggest that?"

"Say less. Despite all that, you kissed him back." He cut her off, then sighed at her reaction, his expression softening. "He cares about you."

"I never denied, He cares about me, ONLY ME, but not the innocents he murders." Her voice trembled, a mix of anger and sorrow spilling out. The thought of Dash's violent world clashed violently with the tenderness she felt for him.

" Don't you see him visiting the hospital every day for King?" Evan pressed, trying to bridge the gap between her heart and mind.

"Exactly, for King. The monsters." Her voice was laced with bitterness, the name leaving a sour taste in her mouth.

"We all have different circles; he gets to have his, and he's loyal." Evan's words were steady, but Zoe felt a storm brewing inside her.

"No, he chose to." She shook her head vehemently, her emotions swirling. "You say he cares, but he does until he has to choose between me and King."

"Then don't make it complicated for yourself and him. One second you're hating him, the next you're-"

"That was just the flow of the moment." She broke eye contact, looking away, her heart racing with uncertainty. The kiss had been a moment of weakness, a fleeting escape from the chaos around them.

"I dare you to say that kiss was a mistake?" he challenged, watching her struggle for the right words, his gaze unwavering.

The door suddenly slammed opened. "King isn't breathing." Dash came rushing breathlessly.

Evan rushed towards the ICU followed by them both, and burst into it, his heart racing as he approached King, who lay motionless on the bed. The sterile smell of antiseptic filled the air, but all he could focus on was the lifeless body before him. With urgency, he assessed the situation. There was no time to waste; he had to act quickly.

Without hesitation, Evan tore open King's shirt, exposing his chest. The sight of the still body filled him with a sense of dread, but he pushed that aside. He placed his hands firmly on King's chest, positioning them correctly for CPR. With every thrust, he felt the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He pushed down hard, the rhythm becoming a desperate plea for life. He could hear the faint beeping of the monitors, each sound a reminder of the urgency of the situation.

After several cycles of compressions, he looked at the ventilator display. "Zoe!" He called out. "Hand over the defibrillator." He said making her reached out to it and plugged it with shaky hands.

He attached the pads to King's bare chest, ensuring they were placed correctly. "Clear!" he shouted, stepping back as he pressed the button to deliver the shock. The jolt surged through King's body, but there was no response. He continued with CPR, pushing harder, fueled by a mix of determination and desperation.

"Come on, fight!" Zoe looked at Dash who muttered with defending voice, she had never seen his eyes holding any greater pain.

Evan worked tirelessly, the weight of the situation bore down on him. He could feel the sweat trickling down his forehead, his muscles aching from the exertion, but he pressed on, refusing to let fatigue overcome him. Each compression was a testament to his will, a silent vow that he would do everything in his power to bring King back. But as the minutes passed, the reality began to sink in.

He looked up at Dash, his chest raising and falling out of exhaustion. "I'm sorry," he panted, the words heavy with the weight of his failure.

Dash ran his fingers through his hair messing the perfect locks. To him, Hunter's father had been more than just a figure; he had been treated like family, someone who had offered warmth and support.

All the men stood in a tight circle, their heads bowed, the silence so thick it was suffocating. It was a silence that spoke of loss, a silence that made his stomach twist with dread.

They began to move making space, Dash looked at the door to see Hunter.

As he entered the ward, the sight that greeted him dropped his heart. Doctors and nurses surrounded the bed, their faces pale and drawn. The machines that once beeped with life were silent now, the IV lines disconnected, leaving his father lying motionless.

Hunter's heart began to race as the pain turned into rage, he slammed Evan against the wall with a force that echoed through the room. "WAKE HIM UP!" he roared, his voice booming like thunder.

Nurses gasped stepping back, non of them had courage to stop him or even speak.

"Let him go!" Dash shouted from behind, his hands gripping Hunter's arms, trying to pull him away. But Hunter was consumed by a whirlwind of anger, his continued to punch his face until his knuckle was bleeding as well as Evan's mouth.

"Do whatever it takes to save him! I'll pay any price!" His voice rang out, filled with raw desperation, as he looked around at the stunned faces of the staff. Each word dripped with the weight of his anguish, echoing off the cold, sterile walls.

"Hunter, you can't save someone who's already dead," Dash said what no other has courage to say.

Hunter turned to Dash grabbing his coller and raised his hand to strike but stopped midway. His burning eyes met Dash's glittering ones that were holding unshed tears, that's when the truth in those words hit Hunter like a wave, crashing over him and pulling him under. Slowly, his grip on him loosened, the fight draining from him as the reality of the situation settled in.

He stepped back, his heart sinking as he looked at his father's lifeless body. The room felt colder, the silence more oppressive. Hunter's breath hitched in his throat, and he felt the tears welling up, the weight of his loss crashing over him like a dark storm. He had fought so hard, but now all that was left was the painful truth that he could not escape.

"He's no more," Dash whispered, his voice trembling as tears filled his eyes.

Hunter's gaze shifted to his father's lifeless body lying still before him. The absence of beeping machines was deafening; there was no breath, no rise and fall of his chest. Those simple signs had been the flickering hope that he would pull through, and now, with their absence, that hope was extinguished.

Standing there, Hunter reached out to grasp his father's hand, still connected to the IV drops that had once sustained him. He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of the wrinkled palm, the skin that had once held strength now lifeless in his grasp. Bowing his head, he rested his forehead against that familiar hand, feeling the weight of finality settle over him.

A lone tear escaped his eye, trailing down his cheek as he took in the worst view he could imagine-a world without his father, a reality he never wanted to face. The moment felt surreal, as if time had paused, allowing the gravity of his loss to fully sink in.

The door slammed open with a force that echoed through the dimly lit room, revealing a tense Alaric and his mother, their faces marked by grief and determination. Alaric's gaze immediately fell on Hunter, who stood motionless, his eyes flickering momentarily to the ventilator that had once provided life to his father.

As Alaric stepped further inside, he moved closer to the bed where his father lay, his heart heavy with sorrow. Hunter had always been fiercely protective of his father, never allowing anyone to come too close. But now, with the king's life extinguished, the unspoken rules seemed to dissolve in the face of their shared loss.

The funeral helt private as Hunter wanted on keeping it within the confines of family and a select few of his father's closest friends. The world outside continued to turn, oblivious to the gravity of their loss, while inside the small gathering, the air was thick with unspoken words and lingering memories.

As the last of the guests departed, the atmosphere shifted. Only Hunter and Alaric remained, standing side by side in the dim light, their hearts heavy with the weight of their father's absence. The king lay on a bed of stone, stripped of his crown and his home, yet the legacy he left behind loomed large-a complex tapestry of fear, power, and the undeniable bond between his sons when it's needed.

Hunter's eyes, usually filled with a fierce intensity, now glinted with a different kind of fire. The beast of vengeance lurked beneath the surface, threatening to consume him whole. "He died, and we still couldn't find the person who attacked him. What a loser we are," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper as he fixed his gaze on the coffin.

Alaric felt a surge of determination. "I'm pretty close," he replied, his voice steady as he met Hunter's intense stare.

Hunter's expression shifted, a blend of anger and resolve. "We are one until we win. My men are yours to command." He turned away, his mind already racing with plans, and Dash shadowed him closely. "Arrange any force, any army required. He's good at stalking," Hunter commanded, the weight of their mission settling heavily upon them.

In that moment, Alaric understood that their journey had only just begun. The loss of their father would not be in vain; it would ignite a fire within them, driving them to uncover the truth and seek justice. Together, they would navigate the treacherous path ahead, bound by blood and a shared purpose-to honor their father's memory and ensure that his legacy lived on, not through fear, but through strength and unity.

They fights like dogs but unties the moment someone else's gets against any of them.

He put head to toe efforts and within a week stalked the some of the very deep secrets about the underworld and the girl he thought was just a pole dancer but turned out to be one of the most skilled assassin of Italian Mafias.

"Get underground. East or west both are now after you." Movros's man's commanding voice that had a hint of gentleness warned Lia through mobile.

"There's one last thing I need to take care of before I'm off to Italy forever." She responded walking downtown but as it was midnight the streets were dark and empty, once in s while a car would pass by her. But she care less with her hands in her black hoodie pockets and wired earphones on.

Ending the call, she turned the corner, the air felt heavier, the shadows deeper. The streetlights flickered ominously, casting a dim glow that barely illuminated her path. Just as she was about to step into a more open area, a figure emerged from the darkness, leaning casually against the brick wall of a nearby building. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized her rival she had hoped never to encounter again.

"Should have listened to your boss," he said, his voice smooth yet laced with an unsettling edge. The way he spoke was almost mocking, as if he relished the fear that flickered across her face. "Because this place is insanely unsafe for you."

She instinctively took a step back, but she sensed the presence of tall fingers around her who were molded into the shadow without a fur dropping noises.

In an instant, Alaric lunged at her, his movements swift and predatory. She barely had time to react before he grabbed the wired earphones that hung around her neck, the cords tightening around her throat like a vice.

"You are going to speak the truth and get Sybil out of this." he hissed into her ear, tightening his grip making her back hit his hard chest.

Her hands flew to her neck, desperately clawing at the wires, but his grip was unyielding. Panic surged through her as she felt the pressure increase, cutting off her breath.

The world around her began to fade, the sounds of the city muffled as her vision blurred.

Just as she felt herself beginning to slip away, he suddenly released his hold, letting her take a few stumbling steps. Gasping for air, she coughed and struggled to regain her composure.

"Come on," he growled, dragging her away from the street and into the darkness. The cold night air felt sharp against her skin as he pulled her deeper into the alley, away from the faint glow of the streetlights. Fear coursed through her veins as she realized the gravity of her predicament. She was being taken-far away from the safety she had once felt.

"You're going to regret crossing kings," he said, his voice low and threatening. The darkness enveloped them, swallowing any hope she had of escape.

She struggled against his grip, but it was of no use.

• Death is a cruel artist, painting our hearts with the darkness of absence, leaving only echoes of what once was.

Chapter Published On: 26 January 2025.

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