Chapter 12 ~ An Unholy Alliance
1227 Words
Elena’s fingers brushed over the edges of the plaques, tracing the names of Adrian’s dead.
A silent weight settled in her chest.
For years, she had lived in her father’s shadow, knowing he was brutal—but this?
This was m******e.
The air in the memorial room felt heavier now, suffocating. These weren’t just names on a wall. They were people. Families. Lives erased at her father’s command.
She turned to Adrian, finding him watching her with sharp, assessing eyes.
“This is why you took me,” she murmured. “Not just for revenge. You wanted me to see this.”
Adrian’s expression didn’t change. “You needed to know what kind of man he truly is.”
Elena exhaled, her pulse hammering against her ribs.
Everything felt different now.
Her father had betrayed her. Marco had been willing to let her rot. And Adrian—
Adrian, her supposed enemy, was the one showing her the truth.
Her mind screamed that she should still resist him. That he had stolen her, locked her away, played mind games with her.
But hadn’t her father done worse?
A slow, dangerous thought formed in her mind.
One she couldn’t ignore.
She turned fully to Adrian, meeting his gaze head-on.
“You want to destroy my father.”
Adrian didn’t blink. “I will destroy him.”
A pause.
Then, softly—
“Let me help you.”
Adrian’s brows lifted slightly, as if she had surprised him.
“Help me?” he echoed.
Elena nodded. “You want to take him down? Fine. But if you think I’ll sit here like some captive while you do it, you’re wrong.”
A slow smirk pulled at Adrian’s lips. “I don’t need your permission, princess.”
She stepped closer, tilting her chin up. “No. But you do need me.”
His amusement flickered.
And then it was gone, replaced by something far darker.
“Why?” he asked. “Why betray your own blood?”
Elena’s voice was steel.
“Because my father already betrayed me.”
A charged silence stretched between them.
Adrian’s eyes searched hers, as if weighing her words, deciding if she was serious.
Then, slowly, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a sleek black dagger.
He flipped it in his palm, then held it out to her.
“A deal with me is permanent,” he murmured. “No turning back.”
Elena didn’t hesitate.
She curled her fingers around the cold metal, her heart pounding.
“I’m not turning back,” she whispered.
For the first time in her life, she wasn’t just someone’s daughter. Someone’s possession.
She was choosing her own side.
And that side was Adrian’s.
The dagger was heavier than she expected.
It wasn’t just a weapon. It was a promise.
A declaration.
Adrian watched her closely, his expression unreadable.
Then, without warning, he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming.
His fingers brushed over hers, curling around the hilt of the dagger, his touch like fire against her skin.
“If you want to stand by my side,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous, “then you’ll have to prove it.”
Elena’s breath hitched.
She forced herself to hold his gaze. “How?”
Adrian smiled—a slow, dark curve of his lips.
“There’s someone I need you to deal with.”
Elena’s stomach tightened. “Who?”
Adrian’s grip tightened over her fingers before he finally pulled away.
He reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded photograph. He handed it to her without a word.
Elena unfolded it slowly.
And felt her entire body go cold.
The man in the photo was familiar.
Too familiar.
She clenched her jaw. “Lorenzo.”
Her fiancé.
Her father’s chosen puppet.
The man who had sat across from her father and discussed her death like it was an inconvenience.
Adrian’s voice was quiet, but it sliced through the air like a blade.
“He’s here.”
Elena snapped her gaze to his.
Here. In Adrian’s territory.
“Why?” she demanded.
Adrian’s expression darkened. “He thinks he can negotiate.”
A cold, bitter laugh escaped her lips. “Negotiate what? My return?”
Adrian nodded. “Your father sent him to make an offer.”
Elena’s pulse pounded.
She had spent years pretending to love Lorenzo. Smiling when he touched her. Nodding when he spoke.
All while he had been plotting against her.
Now, he was walking into Adrian’s hands, thinking he still had control.
A slow, burning rage curled in her stomach.
She turned back to Adrian.
“Let me see him.”
Adrian studied her, as if assessing her strength.
Then, finally, he nodded. “Come.”
The room was dimly lit.
Lorenzo sat at a polished table, his posture stiff but composed.
He had no idea what was coming.
Elena stepped into the room, and the moment Lorenzo’s eyes landed on her, his expression flickered—shock, then something darker.
“Elena,” he breathed.
She stared at him. “Lorenzo.”
He rose to his feet. “Thank God. I—”
She held up a hand, cutting him off.
“You came to negotiate,” she said coolly. “Let’s hear it.”
Lorenzo hesitated.
Then, with a careful nod, he sat back down.
Adrian remained silent beside her, watching.
Lorenzo exhaled. “Your father is willing to make a deal. He understands that… certain mistakes were made.”
Elena’s nails dug into her palms. Mistakes.
That’s what he called it.
Selling her out. Leaving her to rot.
She swallowed the fury building inside her. “And?”
Lorenzo leaned forward slightly. “If you return willingly, he will forgive everything. No consequences.”
She nearly laughed.
No consequences.
She wondered if her father had promised the same to Marco before he discarded him.
Adrian chuckled darkly. “No consequences?” He leaned forward, eyes glinting. “Tell me, Lorenzo, did your boss also promise that after she was dead?”
Lorenzo’s face paled.
Elena tilted her head. “You knew, didn’t you?”
Lorenzo hesitated.
And that was all the answer she needed.
Something inside her snapped.
“You were going to let me die,” she said, voice quiet but deadly.
Lorenzo opened his mouth—probably to lie—but she was already moving.
The dagger Adrian had given her was in her hand before she even realized it.
She slammed it down—hard—stabbing it into the table just inches from Lorenzo’s hand.
He flinched violently, his breath catching.
She leaned in, her face inches from his.
“I was a good little pawn once,” she whispered. “But I’m not playing your games anymore.”
Lorenzo swallowed hard. “Elena—”
She pulled the dagger free with a sharp, deliberate motion, then stepped back.
Adrian was smirking.
But there was something in his eyes—something almost like approval.
Elena turned back to Lorenzo, her voice ice-cold.
“Go back to my father,” she said. “Tell him I’m not coming home.”
Lorenzo’s hands trembled slightly. “You’re making a mistake.”
Elena smiled.
“No,” she said. “I’m fixing one.”
And with that, she turned and walked out, leaving Lorenzo—and her past—behind.
- Writer
