Bloodlines of the Fallen

Chapter Three – Wolves in the Dark

The man’s words hung in the cold alley, sharp as broken glass.

Darius’s grip didn’t loosen. Rain streamed down his face, but he barely noticed. His focus was locked on the trembling man pinned beneath his hand, heart racing like prey caught in the jaws of a predator.

“It wasn’t Marek?” Darius repeated slowly, his voice a low growl. “Then who?”

The man swallowed hard, his pulse hammering against Darius’s palm. “I I don’t know his name.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I swear,” the man gasped. “He’s not one of us. He met with Andre last week said he could deal with your pack. But no one’s seen him since.”

Darius narrowed his eyes, reading every flicker of panic across the man’s face. Lies were easy to spot. This wasn’t one of them.

Whoever this stranger was, he’d left an impression.

Darius released the man abruptly. He hit the ground in a heap, coughing as he struggled to catch his breath. Darius crouched beside him, keeping his voice quiet.

“What did he look like?”

The man hesitated, rubbing his throat with shaking fingers. “Tall. Pale. Dark hair. I didn’t get a good look Andre’s men made sure of that.”

Darius held his gaze a beat longer, waiting for more. But the man didn’t have anything left to give.

Without another word, Darius rose and stepped back inside.

Nero’s hadn’t changed in his brief absence. The crowd still pulsed beneath the dim lights, lost in whatever vices had brought them here. Isla was exactly where he left her, perched at the bar with one hand resting lightly against the base of her glass.

But her eyes were on him.

She’d been watching. Waiting.

As he approached, Isla didn’t bother hiding the flicker of curiosity that crossed her face. “That was fast.”

Darius settled into the seat beside her. “He wasn’t much for conversation.”

“Let me guess,” Isla said, swirling the last of her drink. “He claims he’s innocent?”

“No,” Darius replied. “But he’s not the one you should be worried about.”

Her hand stilled.

Darius could see the shift in her posture the faint tilt of her head, the tightening of her grip around the glass. Isla Marek never wore her fear where anyone could see it, but Darius had known her too long to miss the signs.

“Someone met with Andre,” Darius continued, his voice calm but deliberate. “Someone your brother didn’t tell you about.”

Isla’s gaze sharpened. “Who?”

“I don’t know,” Darius admitted. “But whoever it is, they’re not playing by your family’s rules.”

For a moment, she didn’t speak. The faint hum of music filled the space between them, vibrating softly against the edge of the bar.

Then, quietly “I thought you said this wasn’t your problem.”

Darius met her eyes.

“It is now.”

She studied him carefully, searching for the angle. There was always an angle with Darius Stone. The man didn’t breathe without calculating the outcome first.

But tonight, Isla found nothing in his expression beyond cold certainty.

“You never could stay out of things,” she muttered, tipping back the rest of her drink.

Darius let the corner of his mouth lift slightly. “You called me.”

“Don’t remind me.” Isla set the glass down, sliding it toward the bartender with a flick of her fingers. “You realize Andre’s going to know about this by morning. He’ll assume you’re digging for information.”

“He can assume whatever he wants.”

“Darius ”

“I don’t answer to Andre.”

She stiffened at the mention of her brother’s name, but Darius didn’t look away.

For years, Andre Marek had played the part of the ambitious underboss carving his name into the streets with blood and fire, rising through the ranks of the family like it was inevitable. But Andre had never been the real threat.

It was the woman sitting beside Darius now.

Isla had always been the dangerous one.

And Darius knew it better than anyone.

“You should go,” he said at last, his voice lowering just enough for her to hear over the crowd.

Isla arched a brow. “Kicking me out already?”

“Your brother’s men are watching.” Darius’s gaze drifted briefly to the far corner. The second man hadn’t moved, but Darius could feel his eyes burning into his back. “Let them report whatever they want. But if you linger too long, they’ll think this is something it’s not.”

Isla smirked faintly. “And what exactly do you think this is?”

Darius didn’t answer.

Because truthfully, he didn’t know.

Three years ago, Isla Marek had walked out of his life without looking back. Whatever they’d been whatever lines they’d blurred had burned away the night she chose her family over him.

And yet, here she was.

Calling him. Meeting him in places she shouldn’t.

“I’ll handle this,” Darius said, his voice final. “Stay out of it.”

Isla leaned in closer, so near that her breath brushed against his ear.

“You don’t give orders, Stone.”

She slipped off the stool and disappeared into the crowd, leaving nothing behind but the faint trace of her scent.

Darius stayed at the bar, watching her go.

Theo appeared at his side a moment later, his arms crossed over his chest. “That’s a bad idea,” he said simply.

“You’re not wrong.”

Theo let out a slow breath, shaking his head. “You know she’s going to drag you into this mess whether you like it or not.”

Darius glanced down at the empty glass Isla left behind.

“She already has.”