★★Mariella's POV★★



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A lie can turn someone against you, but betrayal? Betrayal cuts deeper than any wound. It's not just the act—it's the trust you gave, believing they wouldn't hurt you. And the worst part? It never comes from those who want to see you fall. It comes from the ones you thought would never let you down.

Everything is dark. It feels like I'm drowning, trapped in this abyss forever. Distantly, I hear my name being called.

"Mariella!" A voice, desperate. "Mariella! Baby, open your eyes!"

The ringing in my ears drowns out everything else. My body aches like it's been torn apart, a searing pain pulsing through every nerve. I groan, my fingers twitching against the rubble beneath me. Then, finally, I force my eyes open, and the world slams back into focus.

Leon.

He's staring down at me, his face smeared with blood and dust, bruises forming along his jaw. His hands cup my face, his touch frantic yet gentle, stroking my cheek as if he's afraid I'll disappear. His voice is raw when he speaks.

"Mariella, can you hear me?"

I blink, trying to adjust to the destruction around us. Smoke chokes the air. The casino is nothing but crumbling ruins, flames licking at the shattered remains of walls. Bodies are everywhere—some lifeless, some groaning in pain, others helping the wounded.

Then, my eyes catch something beside me.

A single playing card. An ace. Luck? Or a cruel joke?

Leon's voice pulls me back. "Can you move?" His tone is urgent, but there's something else beneath it—guilt.

I want to scream at him, hit him, demand answers. What did Niko mean? But I'm too weak. My body betrays me just as much as he has.

"I think," I mutter.

Leon immediately slips an arm around my waist, steadying me as he lifts me to my feet. A sharp groan rips from my throat at the pain. Every movement feels like fire licking through my veins.

Then, I look around. My stomach drops.

No. No, no, no.

He's gone.

His body—Niko's body—it's not here.

My chest tightens, rage bubbling beneath my pain. "Where is he?" I rasp, my head snapping toward Leon.

His jaw clenches. "He's not there." His voice is rough, dripping with frustration. "The bomb was a distraction. He fucking escaped."

My fists tremble. The bastard ran. Again.

Damien and Antonio appear behind us, covered in dust and blood. Antonio's eyes widen when he sees me, and he rushes over. "Mariella! Are you okay?" He's already checking my body for wounds.

I let out a sharp scoff, smirking through the pain. "Oh, just splendid." My voice drips with sarcasm.

Antonio smirks, shaking his head, but he grips my arm, helping me stay upright.

But I barely notice. My mind is spinning, my chest heaving.

Niko's gone.

But worse than that? His last words haunt me.

"Ask Leon. He knows everything."

I glance at Leon. He's avoiding my gaze, his grip on me just a little too tight. His face too unreadable.

He knows something.

And I'll be damned if I don't find out what.

Damien's voice cuts through the haze of pain and confusion. "We gotta move. The feds will be here soon." There's an urgency in his tone that snaps us all into motion, the weight of everything crashing down around us.

Leon nods sharply, his eyes scanning the chaos as he barks out orders to the remaining men. "Il faut qu'on bouge ! (We need to move!)" His voice carries over the noise, commanding, unyielding. The men respond immediately, snapping to attention as they start moving, their training taking over.

Leon's gaze softens when he looks at me, concern etched into every line of his face. "Can you walk?" he asks gently, a stark contrast to the authority he wielded just moments ago.

I grit my teeth and try to move, but my legs buckle beneath me, weakness flooding my body. Before I can hit the ground, Leon catches me, his arms strong and steady around my waist. The contact sends a jolt through me, and I hate how much I need his strength right now.

"I got you, darling," he murmurs, his voice a balm to my frayed nerves.

Without hesitation, he lifts me up, cradling me against his chest in one swift motion. His arm wraps securely around my lower back, his other under my knees. I can feel the tension in his muscles, the tight control he's maintaining to keep us both moving forward.

My hands rest against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath my fingertips. I force myself to meet his gaze, those stormy eyes locked onto mine, searching for something I can't name.

Stop it, Mariella.

I try to shove down the warmth blossoming in my chest. He lied. He kept something from me. But my body betrays me, leaning into his strength, craving his touch even as my mind rebels.

Leon starts moving, his steps quick and purposeful, Damien and Antonio flanking us, their eyes sharp and weapons ready. Every corner we turn, every shadow we pass feels like it could spring to life, another attack waiting to happen. The adrenaline keeps me conscious, but my eyelids feel like lead, exhaustion dragging me down.

Leon looks down at me, his gaze softening for a heartbeat. "Keep your eyes open for me, baby." His voice is gentle, coaxing me back from the brink of unconsciousness.

I nod, swallowing hard as I force myself to comply, fighting the darkness tugging at the edges of my vision.

We weave through the debris, past the broken bodies and shattered glass, the acrid smell of smoke and blood clinging to the air. My breaths come in ragged gasps, every inhale a battle.

Finally, the cool night air hits my face as we burst through the back exit of the building. The Black SUVs are parked and waiting, engines running, a beacon of safety in this hellish night.

Leon carries me straight to one of them, his grip never faltering. Antonio yanks the door open, and Leon slides in with me still in his arms, settling me gently onto the seat.

Damien and Antonio pile in, slamming the doors shut as the driver peels out, tires screeching against the asphalt. The sirens are distant but growing closer, a reminder of how close we came to losing everything.

Leon's hand finds mine, squeezing tight, as if he's afraid to let go.

I stare at him, the questions burning on my tongue, the betrayal simmering beneath my skin. But right now, I'm too tired to fight. The adrenaline is fading, leaving me hollowed out and numb.

But this isn't over.

Niko escaped, and whatever secrets Leon's hiding—they're going to come to light. One way or another.

And when they do, God help anyone standing in my way.

The ride back to headquarters was filled with tense conversation between Leon, Damien, and Antonio, their voices low but urgent as they dissected Niko's escape.

"There's no way he vanished without a trace," Damien muttered, his frustration evident. "Someone had to help him—no one gets out that fast alone."

Leon, phone pressed to his ear, was spewing orders in rapid French, his jaw tight, eyes burning with fury. Every now and then, he ran a hand through his hair, the sign of a man barely keeping it together.

And me?

I sat there in silence, arms wrapped tightly around myself, staring at nothing. My mind spiraled, drowning in thoughts I couldn't piece together fast enough.

Leon knows something.

Something about my mother. About my past. About Niko.

And that fucker kept it from me.

I steal a glance at him, watching the frustration etched into his face. Then my gaze flicks to Damien and Antonio—do they know too? Does everyone know except me?

The thought makes my stomach churn.

Lies. It's all fucking lies.

The car finally rolls to a stop outside headquarters. The night sky stretches above us, littered with stars that seem almost mocking, like they know a secret I don't.

The doors open, the men stepping out first. I stay seated, gripping my arms tighter, trying to suppress the tremble in my fingers. My mind is numb, but my body remembers—the pain, the exhaustion, the betrayal.

Leon appears at my side, his face softer now, the sharp edges of his anger dulled as he crouches slightly to meet my eyes. "Mariella?" His voice is low, careful, as if I might break.

I flinch when he reaches up, his thumb brushing away something on my cheek. A tear. Shit.

I didn't even realize I was crying.

I never cry.

His brows pull together in concern. "What's wrong? Does something hurt?"

Yeah, Leon. My fucking trust.

I swallow back the lump in my throat, straightening my spine. "I'm fine," I snap, my voice sharp like a blade, cutting through whatever concern he thinks he has the right to feel.

His eyes narrow at my tone, but I don't give him the chance to press further. I try to step out of the car, but the second my weight shifts, pain shoots up my leg. I barely suppress a groan, my body faltering.

Leon is there in an instant, catching me before I can fall. "I got you," he murmurs, hands firm but careful as they grip mine.

The warmth of his touch sears into my skin, and I stare down at our hands, at the way mine trembles in his grasp. My chest tightens, rage and hurt battling for control inside me.

Fuck him. Fuck all of them.

"Let go," I grind out, my voice venomous. "I can fucking walk."

I yank myself away, biting back the pain that claws at my body, and push past him. My limp is evident, but I don't care.

I will not be weak. Not in front of him.

As I move forward, Damien and Antonio watch me, confusion flickering across their faces. I can feel their eyes on me, but I don't stop, don't acknowledge the unspoken questions hanging in the air.

I wipe another stray tear away, furious at myself for showing anything, and make my way toward the stairs.

My body protests with every step, my limbs heavy, my breathing uneven. I don't know if it's the exhaustion or the weight of the betrayal that makes climbing these damn stairs feel impossible.

Antonio steps beside me, his hand on my back before I can push him away. I snap my head toward him, ready to tell him to fuck off, but he just gives me a small, knowing smile.

"You can yell at me later," he says softly, his voice void of the usual teasing. "Just let me help you."

I hesitate. My pride screams at me to refuse, but my body is weak, and right now, I need to pick my battles.

I give him a slight nod. It's all he needs before he steadies me, helping me up the stairs and through the entrance of the building.

As we make our way inside, I glance back.

Leon is gone.

Good. He's the last person I want to see.

Antonio leads me to a room, guiding me toward the bed. The second my body touches the mattress, exhaustion threatens to pull me under.

"You're good to sleep," Antonio says, stepping back toward the door. "I'll wake you when it's time to change."

I nod, staring at the ceiling, my mind racing even as my body begs for rest. But something gnaws at me, an itch beneath my skin that won't go away.

Just before he leaves, I call out, my voice quieter now. "You guys would tell me if there was something I didn't know... right?"

Antonio stops.

For a second, the air stills between us. Then, slowly, he turns around, his expression unreadable. There's hesitation—just a flicker—but I catch it.

"Of course," he says smoothly. Too smoothly.

I don't blink. I don't react. I just watch him as he nods once and steps out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Liar.

They're all fucking liars.

****

"Mariella?"

A soft voice pulls me from the restless void of sleep, followed by a light touch on my shoulder. Instinct takes over before I'm even fully awake—I grab the hand, twisting it in a tight grip, my body tensed for a fight.

"Jesus—fuck!"

The voice hisses in pain, and my vision sharpens as I snap back to reality. Iyanna.

I release her wrist immediately, breathing hard, my pulse hammering against my ribs.

"Shit, I'm sorry," I murmur, my throat dry and rough. My gaze flicks to her wrist, where faint red marks bloom from my grip.

She rubs it with a smirk, shaking her head. "That's on me for scaring you. Guess your reflexes are still sharp."

She sits on the edge of the bed, and I push myself up, resting my back against the headboard with a heavy sigh. Everything still aches—dull, throbbing pain beneath my skin, a cruel reminder that I survived.

Iyanna's expression softens as she reaches for my hand, squeezing it gently. "I heard what happened. The second I found out you were nearly blown to pieces, I got here as fast as I could."

I exhale a quiet laugh, shaking my head. "Yeah, well... it hurt like a bitch, but I guess I was lucky." The sarcasm rolls off my tongue effortlessly.

She smiles, but there's a shadow behind her eyes, worry she doesn't voice. Instead, she shifts, glancing at me fully now—at the shredded remains of my dress, the dried blood staining my skin. "I brought you some of my clothes. You should clean up."

I follow her gaze down to my tattered dress, the once-elegant fabric reduced to rags. It clings to me like a second skin, stiff with blood and grime. I nod, forcing a small smile. "Thanks."

Iyanna stands and helps me up, her hands steadying me when my body protests. The pain has dulled, but my right knee still throbs, sending sharp jolts up my leg with every movement.

"You need help?" she asks, watching me carefully.

I shake my head, rolling my shoulders as if I can shake off the weakness. "Don't worry about me."

Her eyes linger, skeptical, but she lets it go. I grab the neatly folded clothes from the bed and limp toward the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.

The second I'm alone, I exhale sharply, pressing my palms against the cool sink.

Then I look up.

The mirror reflects a wreckage of a woman.

Scratches mar my face, thin trails of dried blood still smeared along my skin. My eyes, usually sharp and filled with fire, look haunted. Like they know something my brain hasn't caught up to yet. My dress—if you could still call it that—is shredded, the fabric dark with blood. My blood. Niko's blood. Strangers' blood.

I swallow hard and strip off the ruined fabric, letting it fall to the floor in a heap.

The shower hisses to life, steam curling around me as I step under the scorching water. The heat stings, but I don't care—I welcome the burn. I need to feel something else, something that isn't betrayal twisting like a blade in my gut.

I brace my hands against the tile, tilting my head under the stream, letting it wash away the dirt, the sweat, the blood.

But it doesn't wash away the bruises.

I glance down at my stomach, at the dark purple and blue patches decorating my ribs like a sick work of art. A bitter scoff escapes me.

Fuck you, Niko.

The memories flash—the fight, his hands around my throat, the sickening whisper of his words. "Ask Leon. He knows everything."

My jaw tightens. I shove the thoughts away, scrubbing my skin until it's raw, until all that lingers is the heat of the water.

When I step out, the mirror is fogged over, my reflection a hazy shadow. I grab a towel, drying off before slipping into the oversized T-shirt and shorts Iyanna brought me. The fabric is soft, clean—a stark contrast to the filth I'd just washed away.

I brush my hair, then my teeth, methodically, mechanically.

Then I look back at the fogged-up mirror, my own blurred outline staring back at me.

I nod to myself.

Okay, Mariella. Let's go.

I step out of the bathroom, and Iyanna is waiting for me patiently. The second she sees me, she offers a soft smile. "You hungry?"

But I don't answer.

I need to see Leon. Now.

The weight of betrayal sits heavy in my chest, pressing against my ribs like a dull blade. He knew something—something about my mother.

And he lied. Fucking lied.

I limp toward Iyanna, my jaw tight, my fists curled at my sides. "Where's Leon?" My voice is sharp, cutting through the air between us.

Iyanna hesitates, her smile faltering as she studies my face. "You should—"

"Iyanna, please," I snap, my voice raw. "Just fucking tell me."

She exhales, nodding. "Oh-...Follow me."

She turns, leading the way through the dimly lit hallway. I force myself to keep up, ignoring the sharp pang in my knee with every step. Leon's men linger in the halls, watching me with wary curiosity, but I don't meet their eyes. I don't care about them.

Only him.

Iyanna glances back as we approach a door. "Leon's in a meeting—"

I don't wait.

I shove past her, pushing the door open with all my strength. The room falls silent.

Leon is seated at the head of the table, mid-sentence, his sharp gaze snapping to me as Damien, Antonio, and two unfamiliar men all turn, caught off guard.

I barely register their expressions. My eyes are locked on him.

Leon leans back in his chair, exhaling through his nose. His jaw clenches before he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Mariella." His voice is low, a warning.

My whole body burns with rage.

"You lying piece of shit."

His brow furrows in annoyance, his jaw ticking as he studies me. "What?"

He glances at the others and sighs. "Leave."

The men rise in unison, eyes darting between us, but I don't look at them. My focus never leaves Leon.

As soon as the door closes behind them, the tension in the room tightens like a noose.

Leon leans back in his chair again, arms crossed, voice laced with irritation. "How am I a fucking liar?"

I scoff. A bitter, humorless laugh rips from my throat. "Wow. We're playing dumb now?"

His glare sharpens.

I take slow, deliberate steps toward him, my body trembling with fury. "You're a manipulative, backstabbing, fucking cunt."

His expression darkens instantly. He stands.

Fast.

The chair screeches back as he towers over me, his fists curling at his sides. Good. I want him angry. I want him to feel even a fraction of what I feel.

I step forward and shove him. "How could you lie to me?"

He doesn't budge.

I shove him again. Harder. "Why, Leon?" My voice cracks as I push him repeatedly, my hands slamming against his chest. "Fucking tell me why!"

He just stands there. Watching me. Silent.

The way he looks at me—like he's holding back, like he's carrying the weight of something unbearable—it makes me want to scream.

My breath comes in sharp gasps. My vision blurs, but I refuse to cry.

"Fucking TALK!"

Leon finally moves. His hands reach for me, but I react first—my palm collides with his face, hard.

A sharp crack echoes through the room.

His head snaps to the side. He doesn't flinch, doesn't retaliate. Slowly, he turns back to me, his eyes burning with something unreadable.

And then I break.

The words spill from my lips, raw and choked. "You knew Niko's father was the one behind my mother's death."

His face shifts—something flickers behind his eyes. Regret. Guilt. Pain.

It's true.

The room feels suffocating, my own breath hitching in my throat. "You knew, and you never told me."

He closes his eyes for a fraction of a second, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, almost hesitant.

"Mariella... I never lied to you." His throat bobs as he swallows. "I just—didn't tell you."

No. No, he doesn't get to say that.

My breath leaves me in a sharp exhale, something raw and burning clawing up my chest. "That's the same fucking thing, Leon."

He stays silent, watching me with that unreadable expression that used to make me feel safe. Now, it makes me sick.

I shake my head, trying to swallow the lump in my throat, but it's useless. The weight of it, of this, presses down on me like I can't breathe. "You let me believe my entire life that my mother's death was just—wrong place, wrong time. That it was random. Meaningless." My voice cracks, and I hate it. I hate how broken I sound. "And you knew. The whole time, you fucking knew."

Leon exhales sharply, his jaw tightening. His hands flex at his sides, like he wants to reach for me but knows he can't. Won't. "I wanted to tell you—"

"But you didn't," I snap.

A single tear slips down my cheek before I can stop it. I swipe at it angrily.

"You let me chase ghosts, Leon. You let me run in circles, desperate for answers, while you just—watched." My breath stutters, fury and heartbreak tangling in my throat. "You let me grieve something that wasn't an accident. You let me trust you."

His silence is damning.

"I didn't tell you because I didn't want to see you like this." His voice is hoarse, something dark and desperate woven between the words. "Mariella, when you found out Niko was connected, you—" He shakes his head, exhaling sharply. "I knew if you learned the truth, it would fucking destroy you. And I couldn't stand to be the one who did that to you."

A bitter laugh spills from my lips, sharp and cutting. "So you thought what? That lying—hiding—was better? That keeping me in the dark would somehow protect me?"

Leon's eyes darken with something unreadable. His jaw tenses like he's about to argue, but he doesn't. He just watches me, like he's trying to find the right words and coming up empty.

I slam my finger against his chest, anger sparking under my skin. "That was not your decision to make, Leon." My voice is shaking, my hands trembling. "Do you have any fucking idea what it's like to live in the dark? To piece together fragments of a truth that was never supposed to be hidden from you?"

Tears slip down my cheeks, burning like acid. "You were the only person I trusted—the only one who never made me feel like I was losing my mind." My breath hitches. "And you knew." My voice cracks, but I force the words out. "You knew, and you still let me suffer alone."

Leon takes a slow step forward, his hands flexing like he wants to touch me, but he doesn't. His voice is raw, heavy with guilt. "I should have told you the second I found out." His throat bobs, eyes flickering with something tortured. "But I didn't keep it from you to hurt you. I kept it from you because I wanted to protect you. Because I knew the second you learned the truth, you wouldn't stop until you burned everything down." He exhales, shaking his head. "And I didn't want to watch you burn with it."

I squeeze my eyes shut, my nails biting into my palms. "That's not your choice." My voice is barely a whisper.

Silence. Thick. Suffocating.

When I open my eyes, Leon is watching me like I'm something fragile—like I'll shatter if he so much as breathes wrong.

I hate him for it.

"You should've told me," I whisper, voice hoarse with grief.

"I know," he says, and it's the only thing he doesn't try to justify.

I turn away because I have to. Because if I keep looking at him, I might break completely.

But he doesn't let me go.

His fingers skim my wrist, hesitant. "Mariella." His voice is low, almost broken. "If you hate me for this, I'll take it. If you never forgive me, I won't blame you." A slow, sharp inhale. "But don't ever think I did this to hurt you."

I don't turn around. I don't speak.

Because right now, I don't know if I hate him more for keeping the truth from me—

Or for making me wish I could believe him.

His hand slides to my waist, firm yet careful, guiding me to face him. But I refuse to meet his eyes. I can't. I won't.

Because if I do, he'll see me like this—raw, exposed, breaking apart at the seams. And I can't let him.

Not when I feel this—weak. Fragile. Helpless.

His fingers tilt my chin up, his grip firm yet gentle. "Baby," he whispers. "Look at me."

I shake my head, biting my lip, trying to swallow down the wreckage of emotions threatening to drown me.

Then, softer, more desperate— "Mariella, please."

His voice is raw, aching, pleading.

So I look.

And God, the way he's looking at me—it's not fair.

His eyes, dark and tired, drink me in like I'm something precious, something fragile. Like I'm everything.

The air between us is thick, electric, the weight of unspoken words pressing against my chest.

Then, his gaze drops—to my lips. And his voice is barely a whisper when he says—

"Princess... you don't realize how deeply you consume me. You are in every thought, every breath, every moment. You don't know how you unravel me with just a look, how you own me without even trying."

I stop breathing.

His words crash into me, shaking something deep, something buried. My pulse hammers against my ribs, a frantic rhythm that belongs to him now.

I hate him. I hate him for knowing exactly what to say—for saying it in a way that makes me want to melt into him instead of push him away.

A shiver runs down my spine, and I clutch onto his shirt, barely realizing I'm doing it. His hand slides to my waist, fingers pressing into my skin just enough to keep me grounded.

My lips part, but I don't know what to say. I don't know how to fight this.

And when his forehead lowers to mine, our breaths mingling, our hearts beating out of sync—

I realize I don't want to.

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DID HE CONFESS???

AHHH

I wonder what the next chapter will be....? hehehe

Bye, lovies! (っ◔◡◔)っ

Maddie♡