Chosen Blood

Chapter 8 - Leon’s Question

The Dela Cruz estate was unusually quiet that night. The storm of celebration had faded, leaving behind the soft hum of voices, the faint clinking of silverware, and the echo of distant footsteps through polished halls.

In the dining room, Abi was halfway through her second plate, waving her fork with mock indignation.

“I’m telling you, Aya—when I hacked into that warehouse security, their password was literally one-two-three-four-five. Who runs a k********g ring with less creativity than my old email?”

Aya shook her head, hiding a smile as she sipped her soup. “You cope with jokes, don’t you?”

Abi grinned. “Of course. If I don’t laugh, I’ll start crying. And I’m way prettier without mascara streaks.”

Aya chuckled softly, the sound warm against the quiet. “Maybe that’s how we keep from breaking—the way we balance each other.”

Their laughter drifted faintly down the hall.

But Hima wasn’t there.

She sat in Alejandro’s study, a place heavy with history—oak shelves lined with leather-bound books, the scent of old cigars lingering in the air, the dim glow of a single lamp throwing long shadows across the room.

Alejandro sat behind his mahogany desk, not as the Lion tonight, but as a man carrying decades of weight.

He poured himself a glass of brandy, the amber liquid catching the light, then gestured toward the chair across from him.

“Sit.”

Hima obeyed, posture straight, hands folded neatly on her lap.

For a long moment, Alejandro studied her. His eyes were dark, searching beyond the calm mask she wore. Finally, he spoke.

“You remind me of myself.” His voice was low, roughened by memory.

“When I was young, I thought the world owed me something. I thought power would heal what loss had broken. It didn’t.” He swirled the glass, gaze distant. “It only made the silence louder.”

Hima’s throat tightened. She said nothing.

Alejandro leaned forward, setting the glass down with a soft clink. His gaze sharpened.

“Tell me, Hima. Why are you here? What drives you? Don’t give me the words you think I want—don’t tell me about loyalty or survival. Tell me the truth.”

The silence between them stretched thin. Hima’s fingers curled against her lap. She thought of her mother’s last breath, her father’s absence, the wreckage of what used to be a perfect life. She thought of Abi’s laughter, Aya’s quiet strength, Lola’s weary sacrifices.

Finally, she spoke—her voice low but edged with steel.

“I want control. And revenge. Not just for me—for them. For my sister, for Abi, for my Lola. I never want to watch the people I love die because I was powerless. I won’t be a victim again. Ever.”

Alejandro studied her, eyes narrowing. Then, to her surprise, he nodded.

“Good.”

Hima blinked, uncertain she’d heard him right.

“Power without purpose is a curse,” Alejandro said. “But purpose without power? That’s just a prayer whispered into the void. You understand both. That’s why you’ll go further than most of the men who serve me.”

He leaned back, his expression softening slightly. “You’ll learn that revenge burns out fast. But protecting the people you love—that fire never dies.”

Hima swallowed, meeting his gaze. “Then teach me how to carry it without burning out.”

Alejandro’s lips curved—not quite a smile, but something close.

“That,” he said, lifting his glass again, “is the first right question you’ve asked.”

In the dining hall, Abi was laughing so hard she nearly choked on her drink, Aya scolding her gently as she passed her water.

In the study, two generations of lions sat across from each other—silent understanding passing between them, bridging past and future.

For the first time, Alejandro wasn’t just testing Hima.

He was shaping her.

The Dela Cruz estate was peaceful after dinner—but it wasn’t their peace.

Aya, Abi, and Hima were still guests, no matter how much blood they’d spilled for the family’s cause.

Aya had gone straight to her room, too tired to argue when Abi teased her for skipping dessert. But exhaustion didn’t bring rest. She lay staring at the ceiling, thoughts spiraling—what Alejandro truly wanted from them, how long their stay would last, whether they’d become pieces in someone else’s game. Every creak in the old house made her tense, and every attempt to close her eyes dragged her deeper into unease.

Abi, restless as ever, had wandered to the staff kitchen, probably pestering someone over a pot of coffee, prying for details about security cameras and guard rotations.

That left Hima alone.

She drifted into the garden, drawn by the cool air and the soft glow of lanterns strung along the stone path. The scent of jasmine hung thick in the air, mixing with the damp earth. For the first time in weeks, she allowed herself to breathe without the taste of blood in it.

“You don’t strike me as the type to enjoy flowers.”

Hima turned. Lila stood a few feet away, wrapped in a shawl against the night breeze. Her hair was loose, her smile small but sincere.

“I’m not,” Hima replied simply.

“Then why are you here?”

“To breathe.”

They sat on a stone bench, the kind too delicate for the weight they carried. For a long moment, neither spoke. Only the whisper of leaves filled the air.

“When they had me,” Lila said softly, “I thought I was done for. I thought my father would avenge me, but it wouldn’t matter. I’d still be gone. Then you came. You, your sister, Abi… you didn’t even hesitate.”

Hima’s expression hardened. “Hesitation gets people killed.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Lila’s tone stayed gentle. “You came even though you didn’t owe me anything. You barely knew me. And yet, you didn’t let them win.”

Hima’s fingers flexed against her knees. “…I know what it’s like to lose someone. I won’t let it happen again if I can stop it.”

Lila’s hand brushed hers, warm despite the chill. “Then maybe you’re not just guests here. Maybe you’re something more.”

Hima looked at her, silent. The words hung heavy between them.

“Do you ever think about what you wanted before all this?” Lila asked, tilting her head toward the stars.

Hima exhaled through her nose. “I wanted something ordinary. School. Work. My family safe. But life doesn’t hand out ordinary.”

“And now?”

“Now I want control—to protect what’s left.”

Lila smiled faintly. “Then I hope you get it. You deserve that much.”

Silence fell again, softer this time. Then Lila spoke, voice almost a whisper.

“You three… I want to be part of that. Whatever it is you have. Your group. Your bond.”

Hima frowned slightly. “Why? You’re already part of a powerful family. You don’t need us.”

“You don’t understand,” Lila said, meeting her gaze. “Here, everyone treats me like porcelain. A princess to protect, not a person to stand beside. I don’t have real friends. But you, Abi, Aya—you treated me like one of you. I want that. I want to belong to your side of things.”

Hima studied her, weighing the sincerity behind her words. “If you join us, there’s no turning back. You’ll see the worst in people—and in yourself.”

“Then let me,” Lila said firmly. “I’d rather face the fire with you than sit in this mansion waiting to be saved again.”

Hima didn’t answer right away. She let the words sink in, felt the weight of them settle in her chest. Then she gave a single, small nod.

“Fine. But if you’re with us, you keep up. No princess treatment.”

Lila’s smile brightened, soft but real. “Good. I wouldn’t want it anyway.”

The night pressed close around them, the air cool and alive with the scent of flowers. And for the first time in a long time, Hima didn’t feel suffocated by the darkness.

It felt like the beginning of something stronger.