FAR GONE

Chapter 16

Aria’s hand slipped from mine. I could still feel the faint warmth of her skin when she pulled away, but then she turned without another word. The sound of her footsteps was sharp against the quiet street as she crossed to her car. I didn’t move. I just stood there, watching her silhouette framed by the dim glow of the lamppost as she opened the driver’s door.

She paused for half a heartbeat before getting in, her face turned just slightly—like she wanted to look back but stopped herself. Then the door shut, and the engine growled to life. I stood, watching as her taillights bled red into the night, shrinking with distance until the dark swallowed her whole.

The silence afterward pressed against me like a weight. My chest tightened, and I drew in a slow breath, then let it slip out through my teeth. It felt like I’d just let something fragile shatter in my hands.

Turning away, I began walking back to the dorm. My thoughts churned with every step, too loud, too heavy.

When I reached the dorm, I spotted a figure standing near the entrance. Mia.

She was dressed now, her damp hair tied loosely behind her shoulders, strands catching the dim light as though they carried their own glow. She looked calmer than earlier, but her eyes—those eyes followed me the second I stepped closer.

I angled my body as though to pass her by, not slowing, not daring to meet her gaze. But then—

“Kael,” she called softly.

The sound of my name from her lips halted me mid-step. I turned, just slightly, enough to see her standing there, fingers laced in front of her like she was holding herself together.

“Miss Seraphina just called me,” she said, her voice uncertain. “She explained some things… but I didn’t understand. Do you care to explain it to me?”

Her brows knit faintly, her eyes searching mine for answers.

But I couldn’t. Not now. My throat tightened. “Don’t worry about that,” I cut in, too quickly, sharper than I meant. “Just enjoy your sleep, Mia. You don’t need to trouble yourself with all of that.”

I turned, footsteps carrying me toward the door.

But suddenly, her hand caught mine.

Warm. Small. Shaking.

“What’s happening, Kael?” she asked, her voice breaking. “Why are you treating me like this?”

I froze, staring down at our joined hands. My chest clenched, my heart drumming harder.

I drew in a long breath. “I’m just too tired tonight, Mia,” I said, forcing the words out. “Can you just… spare me all the talks?”

Her grip lingered for a heartbeat longer, desperate. But I pulled my hand free, the loss immediate and cold against my skin. Without another word, I stepped inside. The door shut behind me with a dull thud, and I locked it.

I went straight to bed, collapsing onto the mattress.

But sleep didn’t come. I turned to one side, then the other, staring at the ceiling until the shadows seemed to move. My mind refused to quiet.

Finally, I sat up, my hands raking back through my hair. Maybe if I ran—if I pushed my body until exhaustion claimed me—maybe then I could silence it all.

I changed and stepped back outside. The night was colder now, but Mia was gone. The spot where she’d stood earlier was empty, only shadows waiting there.

I started running.

The sound echoing in the stillness of the night. My breath came harder, clouding faintly in the air. But no matter how fast I moved, my mind stayed sharp, restless.

Images crashed through me like waves. My family’s faces, their pain, the weight of what I had to protect. Raven, her defiance, her fire. Radwan Malik. Milton, always watching from the dark, pulling threads like a puppeteer.

And Lucien Delacroix.

Could he really give me what I wanted? Lucien was a man who cared for nothing and no one. He moved only when profit or power was promised. And yet, I had given him collateral—enough that even he couldn’t resist.

As I slowed my pace, I passed a small shop still open at this hour. Its window glowed with the light of a television. I glanced, and my breath hitched.

Hwarthorne.

Milton’s right hand. His face filled the screen, the bold text flashing beneath: DEAD.

I stopped, my chest rising and falling fast. I leaned slightly closer to the glass, watching the reporter’s lips move though I barely registered the words. Dead? That bastard? I remembered the fight, the way his men had gone after my family. The way I’d left him broken. But dead? Just like that?

It didn’t sit right. It didn’t feel real.

Before I could think further, my phone buzzed in my pocket. The vibration jolted through me, and I fumbled it to my ear.

“Kael.”

Lucien’s voice. Cold, smooth, deliberate.

“My birthday is next week,” he said. “Tell me… are you really going to do everything you promised if I give Darren the subsidiaries?”

His words slid into me like blades. I clenched my jaw, forcing my answer steady. “Yes. I’ll hold up my end, Lucien. You’ll have my word—and more if you demand it. I won’t back down.”

A beat of silence. I could almost hear him smiling on the other end.

“That won’t be a problem,” he said finally, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “On your birthday, Kael… I’ll hand the subsidiaries over to Darren. Consider it done.”

The line clicked dead.

I stood there in the empty street, phone still pressed to my ear, the night suddenly heavier than before.

The faint buzz of city lights hummed above me as I walked back toward the company gates, Lucien’s words still replaying in my head. For the first time in a long while, a small curl of relief sat in my chest. It was fragile, like glass, but it was there.

My boots clicked against the pavement, the night air cool, carrying the smell of metal and dust. I was almost at the front steps when—

“Kael.”

The sound cut through the dark. A voice, low and bitter, dragged my attention sideways.

I stopped. Slowly, I turned toward the alley where the shadows pooled thicker than anywhere else.

Pellington.

He stepped forward, his silvered hair catching the weak glow of the streetlamp. His jaw was tight, his eyes burning with something older than anger—resentment that had been marinating for years.

I didn’t move. Didn’t want to. He wasn’t worth the pause. My fingers flexed at my side as I shifted my weight forward again, intent on ignoring him.

But he sneered. “So this is what it comes to? Now that you’ve got the chairman in your pocket, you don’t respect the elders anymore?”

I let a smirk tug at the corner of my mouth, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Respect’s earned, old man. You should’ve tried it sometime.”

His expression twitched, but he forced his lips into a thin, humorless smile. He took another step closer, the shadows dragging behind him.

“I don’t care what’s running through that arrogant head of yours. But hear me—” his voice dropped, grave, his teeth bared, “I’ll never sit in my house and watch you and your brother take everything from me.”

Before I could answer, his hand slid into his coat pocket. My eyes narrowed, instinct already coiling in my gut. He pulled out a small bottle, twisted the cap—

—and sprayed.

A sharp mist hit my face.

“Ah—!”

My eyes flared with fire. The sting tore into me like needles. I staggered back, clutching at my face, vision melting into burning white. My scream echoed raw against the concrete walls.

Footsteps shifted behind him.

The air changed.

From the shadows, men poured out—six, maybe seven. Their silhouettes stretched long under the streetlight, each holding heavy sticks that gleamed with nails driven through the wood.

Pellington’s voice dripped satisfaction. “I told you, Kael. I told you I’d have my revenge. And this—” he gestured at me, writhing against the pain— “this is how it begins. Beat him.”

The first blow cracked across my shoulder, shoving me forward onto one knee. The second slammed into my ribs, driving air from my lungs.

Blind. I couldn’t see them. Just the blur of movement, the hiss of wood cutting air before the thud against flesh.

I threw my arms up, blocking what I could. Each stick rattled my bones, each strike sending blood spraying warm across my lips. My fists lashed out blindly, connecting once—someone grunted—but the weight of numbers pressed me down.

Another strike to the back. Another across my jaw.

I hit the ground hard, palms scraping asphalt.

Blood dripped into my mouth, metallic and bitter. My knees buckled, but I forced myself up, swiping blindly at the air. A hand grabbed my shirt, yanking me back just so another blow could crash into my spine.

My teeth clenched through the pain, a growl tearing up my throat.

I couldn’t see them. My vision was a blur of fire and shadow. All I could do was listen—listen for their breaths, their shuffles, the whistle of the stick just before it landed. My body twisted with instinct, dodging some, taking more.

But they were many.

The wood smashed into my arms, my ribs, my legs, until finally the weight of it all dropped me to both knees.

Blood pooled down my cheek, dripping off my chin. My breaths came ragged, chest caving under the punishment.

Still—my fists curled, trembling, ready for more.

Even blind, even bleeding—I wasn’t going to let Pellington have the satisfaction of watching me crawl.