Vengeance in His Bed

The vehicle rumbled over a deep pothole as it descended further into the dark, labyrinthine industrial sectors of the lower wards, the low mechanical hum of the engine filling the tense, suffocating silence inside the cabin.

Damian kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, his jaw locked tight as he processed the chilling weight of his father’s previous words. The revelation of an ancient, unresolved failure hanging over the Boren name felt like a shroud, choking the air between them.

Bellero slowly reached into his silk suit pocket, drawing out a sleek, silver cutter to slice the tip of his unlit cigar, his eyes reflecting the dull orange glow of the distant factory smokestacks outside. "You think you are walking a path of your own making, Damian," the old Mafia boss resumed, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly timbre. "But you are merely chasing ghosts. I have just received confirmation from our eyes inside the high-district medical rings. Old man Duro—Jannah’s grandfather—has been moved. He was transferred to a secure, heavily guarded private facility under the direct authorization of Guron Grefo."

Damian’s head snapped over, his eyes narrowing into sharp slits. "Guron’s facility? Why would the former patriarch of Gammar Tech interfere with a senile old man from the slums? Duro has been suffering from severe, advanced amnesia for years. He can barely remember his own name half the time, let alone anything of value to the corporate high-houses."

Bellero let out a sharp, mocking hiss through his teeth, a dark, cynical smile twisting the corners of his mouth as he finally struck a platinum lighter, the small flame illuminating the deep, menacing lines of his face. "Senile? Amnesia? You are as naive as the rest of the sheep in this city, my boy. That old man is not losing his mind. Duro is just frightened. He is terrified of the past catching up to his doorstep, and he is absolutely not ready to explain the truth of their lineage to his precious little grandchild. He is feigning it, Damian. The amnesia is nothing more than a convenient, pathetic facade he has been using to stay invisible in this entire game."

Damian leaned forward, his hands gripping his knees as the puzzle pieces began to violently collide in his mind. "If that’s the truth... then that’s why she went to them. Jannah would never willingly subject herself to an arrogant bastard like Dorrent Grefo. She must have accepted the contract to work at the Grefo estate because they promised to provide top-tier medical facilities and S-class neurological stabilization for Duro. She thinks she’s saving her grandfather’s mind."

"That might very well be the exact reason she surrendered her freedom to them," Bellero murmured, blowing a thick, gray cloud of aromatic smoke toward the front partition. "Or... it might have been Duro’s calculated plan all along. Think about it, Damian. Look at the timing. Now that Jannah is fully grown, now that her biology has matured and she has become undeniably beautiful, Duro knows exactly what is coming. He knows that powerful Alphas from every sector will start flooding into the slums, hunting for her hand in marriage, desperate to claim the genetic frequency running through her veins. He is terrified. He doesn’t want history to repeat itself, so he ran straight into the arms of the strongest shield he could find—the Grefo empire."

The mention of history repeating itself made the air inside the vehicle drop by several degrees. Damian felt his own Alpha pheromones flaring defensively against the suffocating weight of his father’s presence. "You keep talking about history, Father. You keep comparing my pursuit of Jannah to your own past. What exactly happened between you and her family?"

Bellero’s eyes flared with a sudden, dangerous crimson light, the ancient, volatile energy of a seasoned warlord rippling through the small space. His fingers tightened around his cigar with enough force to crush the leaves. "Her mother," Bellero rasped, his voice dropping into a dark, bleeding whisper that sent a chill straight down Damian’s spine. "Frost. She possessed that exact same stubborn, untouchable pride that you see in Jannah today. Years ago, I offered her everything. I offered her the entire underworld on a silver platter. I begged her to be my mate, to sit beside me on the Boren throne. But she refused me. She looked down on my blood, treated me like a common butcher, and turned her back on my dominance."

The old man took a long, ragged breath, his chest heaving under his silk vest as decades of buried humiliation boiled to the surface. "And Duro... that old coward just stood by and watched. He never bothered to support me. He never used his authority as her father to help me get her. He allowed her to reject the Boren name, thinking they could escape the reality of who they are. But no one escapes me, Damian. Frost eventually met the exact, brutal end she deserved for refusing an Alpha of my stature. Her tragic fate was a direct consequence of her own defiance."

Damian’s stomach turned over, a sickening realization washing over him as he stared at the remorseless, cold expression on his father’s face. He knew the criminal underworld was paved with blood, but hearing the dark truth of Jannah’s mother sent a wave of protective fury through his veins. He forced his voice to remain steady, his hands clenching into tight fists. "And what about Duro? What are you planning on doing now that you know where Guron is keeping him?"

Bellero slowly turned his head, his golden eyes locking onto his son with a terrifying, predatory intensity that brooked absolutely no argument. He tapped the ash from his cigar, a slow, lethal grin spreading across his features as the car slowed down, approaching the heavy iron gates of the Boren compound.

"I think it is time for me to pay the old man a private visit at that high-district facility," Bellero whispered darkly, the words dripping with a chilling, vengeful malice that cut through the silence of the night. "Guron’s guards cannot keep me out forever. I want to look directly into his eyes, Damian. I want to see the absolute, shattering terror on his face when he wakes up from his fake amnesia and realizes he is staring at his long-time nightmare."