Chapter 6 — Blood and Betrayal

Liam

He watches her carefully, his gaze tracing every flicker of emotion across her face. The moment he reveals his name, she freezes—eyes widening, breath quickening. It’s more than surprise. It’s fear.

And that fear makes his gut twist.

What is she hiding?

He’s seen every type of reaction in his twelve years running this place—defiance, arrogance, tears—but never this. This is something else. A secret buried so deep it’s choking her. And now, he needs to know why.

He leans back slightly, masking the instinct to press her further. Not yet. Not until he knows what he’s dealing with.

She’s fighting to keep her composure, but he can read her too easily now. Whatever name she just heard—it meant something.

You’re hiding something, kitten.

The words stay silent behind his teeth.

He waits until she leaves, her footsteps fading into the echoing corridor. The door clicks shut, leaving him alone with the questions clawing at his mind. The silence stretches, heavy and suffocating. He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to shake the tension that won’t let go.

This isn’t like him. He doesn’t lose focus over a woman—especially not an inmate.

But Amara isn’t like anyone else.

He turns toward the window, eyes narrowing as the memories creep in—the ones that never really leave. Haunted by those who have fallen before, death hung in the air like a sweet song.

Flashback.............................................................................

The smell of smoke. The echo of gunfire. The roar of flames devouring everything they built.

His boots crunch against shattered glass as he pushes through the wreckage, heart pounding in his chest. His men are gone—either dead or scattered. He can hear shouting in the distance, the crackle of fire eating through steel.

And then he sees him.

Gregory.

The man who raised him from the streets, who taught him every rule this city was built on. Lying on the floor, blood seeping from a hole in his head, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

For a heartbeat, Liam can’t move. The world narrows to a single point—his mentor’s body, the red pooling beneath him.

“No…” His voice breaks as he kneels beside him. He presses a hand to Gregory’s chest, knowing it’s useless. The warmth is already fading.

A sharp pain stabs through his chest, a weight pressing down until it’s hard to breathe. He was supposed to be here. He was supposed to protect him.

But Gregory insisted he take the men—burn Harrison’s warehouses, end his supply lines. Cripple him where it hurts, son. Make sure he can’t breathe without paying for it.

And Liam obeyed.

He took everything Harrison owned—burned it to ash, tore down his empire brick by brick. Every move planned, every strike precise. It was working. Harrison’s men were defecting, scrambling to pledge loyalty to someone who could actually lead.

But while Liam fought that war, Gregory fought his own—and lost.

He clutches his mentor’s hand, knuckles white. “I should have been here,” he whispers, voice breaking into a growl. “They’ll pay for this. Every last one of them.”

The firelight flickers across Gregory’s face, shadows carving deep lines into his skin. The man who’d given him everything—gone. And with him, the last bit of softness Liam ever had.

That day, something inside him broke.

And he never fixed it.

Back in the present, Liam grips the edge of his desk, jaw tight. The ghosts of that night never left him. They sit behind his eyes, whispering in the dark.

Gregory’s death taught him one thing: never trust anyone completely. Everyone hides something. Everyone lies.

And Amara Black—she’s no exception.

He pulls open her file again, flipping through the redacted pages. Whole sections blacked out. Names erased. Reports sealed. Even the judge’s notes—missing.

“Who the hell are you?” he mutters under his breath.

He leans back, staring at the ceiling, the wheels in his head turning. She’s more than just a case. More than another inmate. And that reaction she gave him… that wasn’t about fear of him. That was fear of something bigger. Something outside these walls.

Something—or someone—waiting.

He drums his fingers against the desk, mind racing. Whoever she’s hiding from, they’ve got power. Enough to bury her records, to keep even him from seeing the truth.

And that alone makes his blood run cold.

Because in his world, power like that doesn’t move quietly.

He closes the file slowly, his reflection staring back at him from the glossy cover. He’s not sure what she’s tangled in, but he knows one thing for certain—whatever secret she’s carrying, it’s going to tear through his world before it’s done.

He exhales, low and steady, forcing the thoughts back into the shadows.

Not yet. She’ll talk when she’s ready.

And when she does, he’ll be there to listen.

Even if the truth burns everything down again.