Chapter 4

Rhys was seated inside the classroom. When his gaze shifted and caught sight of us in the doorway, his pupils contracted sharply.

"What are you doing in this sector?"

The sheer bewilderment in his voice made my blood run cold. My son had been bleeding for his approval in this brutal academy for six months, and Rhys didn't even know which cohort his heir belonged to.

Leo didn't catch the coldness. His face lit up. "Dad, you—"

Rhys's jaw locked. "What did you just call me?"

The bright, desperate joy on my son's face shattered. "My apologies, Sir," Leo corrected, his voice hollowing out. "I meant to say you're in the wrong row. My commendation seat is up front."

He looked at Rhys with a lingering hope. This was the first time Rhys had ever shown up, the first time he had kept his word.

But Rhys averted his eyes. "I'm not in the wrong row. This is my seat."

Leo blinked, confusion clouding his features. Before he could speak, a blonde boy barreled past, shoving Leo's shoulder to claim the space at Rhys's side.

"Move out of the way! This is my Dad!"

I lunged forward, snatching Leo into my arms.

Rhys sprang to his feet, his lethal reflexes kicking in as he reached out—but then he froze. I followed his gaze to see Elara standing in the aisle, her hands covering her mouth in surprise.

Rhys immediately retracted his hand from us. Instead, he stepped in front of the blonde boy, shielding him like a prized asset. "Jax is just spirited. I apologize on his behalf."

Leo and I stared at the man who was legally bound to us. That fierce, undeniable protection... it was something my son had never once experienced from him.

"Who is he?" I asked.

Rhys stiffened, a flicker of genuine guilt bleeding through his ruthless facade when he met my eyes. "The child of a close associate."

I swallowed the bitter ash coating my throat. I knew exactly who this boy was. This was the boy from Elara's photo. The boy Rhys willingly played on the floor with.

"Aide Veyra?" Elara approached. "You're here for the ceremony too? Where is the boy's father? Shouldn't he be escorting you in this territory?"

I looked directly at Rhys. His eyes darted away, his posture rigid with a silent, suffocating panic. He was terrified I would violate Omertà and declare my rank as his wife in front of the woman he actually loved.

A cruel, vivid memory slammed into my mind. The night Elara returned from Europe, Rhys had come to my wing dead drunk. When Leo had called him 'Dad', Rhys had actually smiled—a devastatingly tender smile. We had been so foolish to think he was finally thawing. Now I realized the sickening truth: in his drunken haze, Rhys had thought he was looking at Elara and Jax.

I tightened my grip on Leo's hand, ready to fall on my sword and walk away, but my son spoke first.

"My father is deployed overseas," Leo stated , squaring his small shoulders. "He's a very busy Capo. I don't want to be a burden to him."

Both Rhys and Elara stared at him in stunned silence.

I looked down, my heart violently tearing at the seams. I saw the aggressive red rimming my son's eyes as he forced a smile.

"Sir. Mother and I will take our leave now," Leo bowed his head slightly.

As we turned away, Rhys shot forward and clamped a bruising grip around my wrist.

"What did he just say?" Rhys demanded, staring at the back of Leo's head. Was it the shock of the boy who used to blindly beg for his attention finally learning to treat him like a stranger?

I yanked my arm from his grasp, a mocking smile on my lips. "Nothing of importance, Don Calloway. The ceremony is starting."

I guided Leo to the front rows. I could feel Rhys's scorching stare burning a hole between my shoulder blades the entire time, but it didn't matter. No matter how intense the fire, it could never warm the ice left in our veins.

The commendation began. I pulled my son close, praying the Headmaster's booming voice over the microphone would drown out the quiet, sickeningly domestic chatter of the "family of three" sitting a few rows back.

When the Headmaster announced Leo as the new Squad Leader of his youth cohort and called him to the podium, Leo refused. He didn't want the badge. He didn't want to stand under the spotlight and look out into the audience, only to see his father playing guardian to another man's bloodline.

As soon as the applause died down, I led Leo straight into the Headmaster's office and signed the withdrawal papers.

When we emerged into the biting night air, Rhys was standing by his armored SUV. He looked as though he had been pacing the concrete for an eternity. In his hand was a stick of vendor's spun sugar.

"What took you so long? Come on. My convoy is waiting to take us back to the estate."

Rhys stepped forward and handed the sugar to Leo.

Once, those words would have been the answer to every prayer I had ever whispered in the dark. Now, they were just insulting.

Leo reached out, his small, trembling fingers accepting the treat. For a fleeting second, the heavy, miserable shadow lifted from his face, replaced by a genuine, childish gratitude.

Seeing that spark of hero-worship return to Leo's eyes, I felt my resolve waver. Maybe I could wait until morning. But then, the Devil spoke.

"Jax is a transfer to your sector," Rhys said. "He missed the combat trials for the leadership ranks. Tell your instructors you're stepping down. Give Jax the Squad Leader pin."

The command was light, effortless, and entirely lethal.

Every gift in the underworld came with a price. Even a pathetic stick of spun sugar had to be bought with my son's dignity.

"Understood, Sir," Leo replied. He took a bite of the sugar, his eyes red, swallowing the sweetness like rusted glass.

Rhys's gaze softened. He reached out to finally pat Leo's shoulder, but his encrypted phone buzzed.

Elara.

"Rhys? Jax is having a panic attack, can you come to his room now?" her voice bled through the speaker.

Rhys's posture instantly shifted into combat readiness. He turned on his heel and grabbed the handle of the SUV.

As the door swung open, Leo took a step forward.

"Dad!" he screamed.

Rhys froze. He looked back over his shoulder, meeting his son's tear-filled, glassy eyes.

A heavy, suffocating silence stretched between them before Rhys finally spoke. "Stay alert."

He didn't order Leo to correct the title. But it didn't matter. It was the very last time Leo would ever say the word.

That night, we packed our Go-bags and secured seats on a midnight flight out of the country.

At the terminal, I sent Rhys one final, encrypted text.

[I wish you a merciful life.]

A second later, our silent chat interface exploded into a frenzy of incoming alerts.