In His Ruins

Episode three

CHAPTER THREE

POV — DARIEN

The blood on my hands is still warm, yet all I can feel is the ghost of her pulse beneath my fingers, where I'd nearly choked her.

She faints easily.

Too fragile, too easy to break.

She was terrified when she saw me with Shawn. The man was getting what he deserved, yet she interrupted everything, screaming as though she were the one being punished.

Perhaps she thought she'd walked into a nightmare.

Or seen a ghost.

Either way, I couldn't care less.

Trembling, her hair a mess and her eyes wide with horror, she still manages to hold my interest.

I keep finding more reasons to study her.

I noticed her fear at the hospital, too. The way she flinched when my hand brushed her arm. The way she held herself together even when every instinct must have told her to run.

Even now, unconscious, she looks as though she's fighting something.

Her long black hair falls across her face, and her glasses sit crookedly on her nose. Her features are delicate, but there's something stubborn about her mouth, something that refuses to surrender even when the rest of her trembles.

I wonder how long that stubbornness will last.

I first discovered that Silas was still alive a few days ago.

He hadn't died.

He'd hidden from me.

Coward.

I never imagined that girl, Ariel, could be related to that bastard.

Blood always tells.

I first saw her in Chinatown about a year ago. She was with a guy, and they looked close.

Too close.

He was Jace, a loan shark trying to gain power far beyond his reach.

He had no idea he'd messed with the wrong man when he sent his men after me in that alley.

They managed to leave me with a scar.

So I made sure the consequences reached him.

When he tried again and one of his men attacked my driver, I made certain Jace understood that I wasn't someone he could provoke without paying for it.

Revenge is inevitable when I decide someone deserves it.

I kept Shawn hostage because he was the only person who could lead me to Silas.

The only loose end standing between me and Drug X.

Then I received word that Silas had been admitted to the hospital.

The dementia ward, of all places.

For a moment, I thought my search had failed. What use was a man who could barely remember his own name?

Eventually, Shawn gave me the information I needed.

The girl he'd seen with his son was Silas's daughter.

His only child.

Ariel.

All this time, I'd imagined Silas hiding somewhere, carefully protecting what he'd stolen. Instead, he was lying in a hospital bed, his mind slipping away from him.

I could no longer get what I wanted from him directly.

But his daughter could still be useful.

Calling Ariel to the hospital hadn't been an impulsive decision.

I needed confirmation.

If Silas had been hiding Drug X, there was a chance other groups were searching for it, too. I couldn't afford to assume I was the only one following his trail.

So I called his daughter and waited.

If someone was watching Silas, if another organisation had discovered his connection to the drug, Ariel's appearance at the hospital might draw them out.

All I had to do was watch who came looking.

And if the right people showed up, I'd have confirmation of what I'd suspected.

Ariel had no idea she'd become part of an investigation before she ever laid eyes on me.

She thought she'd answered a call.

I knew better.

I'd set a trap.

And I'd used her to do it.

The only problem was that Ariel didn't seem to know anything about her father's activities.

She looked at the world as though people could still be trusted.

Innocent little thing.

She'd learn soon enough why she'd caught my attention.

I turn back to Shawn.

He's struggling to remain conscious, but I crouch beside him and grip his neck, forcing him to look at me.

"You have such a loyal worker," I say with a smirk. "They're putting their lives on the line for you."

"Je... Jessica..." he manages.

"Yes, if that's her name." I loosen my grip slightly. "She attacked me. I didn't kill her. I gave her a gift she'll remember."

Relief flickers across his face.

Interesting.

"You're not going to find it," he rasps. "The dose is gone. Drug X doesn't exist."

I study him for a moment.

He still believes those words will save him.

They won't.

I finish what I started.

Silence follows.

I've always understood control better than most people.

My curiosity began in the alleys, watching stray animals and wondering how something so fragile could keep fighting to survive.

That curiosity grew into an obsession with understanding the human body. I wanted to know how it worked, how it failed, and how easily life could slip away.

But a Blackwood doesn't end up in prison.

We own the prison.

So I made my interests useful.

I studied surgery and graduated at the top of my class. I learned how to make precise incisions, keep a heart beating during an operation, and recognise the difference between a body that could be saved and one that couldn't.

I learned how to make pain look like healing.

By day, I wear gloves and a mask, and people trust me with their lives.

They call me a miracle.

By night, I become something else.

The man who decides whose life is worth saving.

No one suspects the surgeon.

And now I'm the heir to Blackwood, with my twin constantly eyeing a position I couldn't care less about.

People assume power is something everyone wants. They don't understand that sometimes, power is simply the burden you're born into.

I leave Shawn behind and walk toward the room where I put Ariel.

Minutes ago, she was awake.

Now she's unconscious, lying in the darkness as though nothing in the world could reach her.

I brush a strand of hair away from her face before lifting her into my arms.

At six feet, I tower over her. She feels small against me, almost weightless.

I carry her out.

The cleanup is simple.

Gloves off. Blade wiped clean. Evidence removed. Floor mopped.

Surgeons learn to keep their workspaces clean.

Some lessons are useful beyond the operating room.

By the time I reach the car, my phone is vibrating.

Carl.

Of course.

I answer as I open the passenger door.

"Where the hell are you?" he demands.

"On my way."

"That's not an answer, Darien."

"It's the only one you're getting."

I end the call before he can start another argument.

I settle Ariel into the passenger seat and secure her seat belt. I don't need an unconscious woman getting injured in a sudden stop.

Before I straighten, I notice her fingers twitch.

A tiny movement.

Fear has a pattern.

Her breathing changes first. Then her fingers move. Then she tries to make sense of her surroundings before deciding what to do.

I watch her carefully.

She jolts awake.

For a split second, confusion clouds her eyes. Then she remembers.

The panic returns.

She fumbles with the seat belt and reaches for the door.

I move before she can get it open, catching her wrist and pulling her back.

"You know you can't," I murmur, my voice low.

Her almond-shaped eyes widen.

I lean closer, watching the fear settle over her face.

"Not unless I let you, little bird."