Steel and Seduction

Chapter four

Zya Stark leaned against the doorway to Snow's office, his dark hair falling just above his brow in a casual yet deliberate way.

"I’m guessing your original plan of keeping Grayson locked away in the cellar for eternity and throwing Karina into prison for the rest of her life is off the table now?"

"Somewhat," Snow replied, leaning back in his chair. He had let Karina return to sleep after breakfast, her chestnut hair spread out across the pillow.

It had been harder than he anticipated to pull himself away from her.

Zya tilted his head. "Has she begged for mercy for her father?"

"Not in the slightest."

"A woman after my own heart," Zya said with a mischievous grin, stepping closer to the computer monitor. "Now that I know she’s not running a human trafficking ring, I might just try my luck."

Before Zya could react, Snow slammed him against the wall. "Don’t you dare," he growled.

A smirk tugged at Zya's lips. "Just a joke, my friend." He raised his hands, revealing the jagged scar across his palm, a remnant of their time as cellmates in prison.

"f**k you, and f**k your jokes," Snow muttered, slumping back into his chair and swiveling toward the monitor.

It felt like an invasion of her privacy to watch her on the security footage, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

"Stone?"

Both men turned as Storm entered the room, taking up most of the doorway. He cleared his throat. "Didn't realize you were busy. Should I come back later?"

"No need to leave. I'm not here for business," Zya waved a hand dismissively, his expression shifting to something more serious.

Snow nodded without looking away from the screen. "Have you heard from your contact at the police?"

"I just got off the phone with him. Nothing new," Storm said. "Vale was a decorated officer specializing in undercover operations.

According to his records, he received the Queen's Commendation for Bravery right before you were locked up. He resigned the following week."

What a prick. "And where is he now?" Snow asked.

"No one’s heard from him since."

Snow's thoughts drifted back to the night of the crash. At first, he hadn’t realized what was happening when Vale arrived on the scene, his police car's blue lights flashing.

He'd been relieved to see an officer, reassuring himself that the emergency services were on their way. He'd drifted in and out of consciousness.

At that point, he hadn't even realized Vincent was dead, thrown through the windshield in a messy tangle of glass and blood. He'd noticed the body in the road but, in his dazed state, had assumed they'd hit a deer.

"Let me know if anything changes," Snow said, his thoughts a decade behind him.

Storm gave a curt nod. "Will do."

After a moment, Zya spoke, his arms crossed. "So, what’s your plan for Vale?"

"I intend to take from him what they took from me." Snow's response was direct.

"You don't think that might be a bit... much?" Zya raised an eyebrow.

Snow gave a derisive laugh. "Did they not deserve it? They stole years from me, Zya. Years that should have been the best of my life. Instead, I spent them rotting in a cell. I'm not surprised you don’t understand—you actually committed the crime you were imprisoned for. Same goes for Kellan."

He raised his hands as Zya opened his mouth to respond. "I don’t blame you. Hell, if I’d been there, I would’ve helped. But neither of you knows what it feels like to watch your life slip away, knowing there's nothing you can do to stop it."

Zya held his gaze steadily. "Considering the company you kept in prison, I'd say it hasn’t turned out too badly."

"No." This time, his laugh was genuine. "No, it hasn't." The four of them—Snow, Zya, Kellan, and Matthew—had all been handed raw deals in life, each in their own way.

"If someone had told me on the day I entered prison that, a decade later, the four of us would own a billion-dollar company, I would've laughed in their face."

"True," Zya said, his smirk crooked. "I was just a cocky little bastard from a council estate, and yet," he spread his hands, "here we are."

"Was just a cocky little bastard?"

"Don’t start with me," Zya aimed a playful kick at Snow's good leg. "I'm a changed man compared to who I used to be."

"Mm," Snow threw a pen at him, snickering when it landed perfectly between Zya’s eyes. "What not living in poverty does to a man."

Zya bent to pick up the pen to throw it back but froze, his gaze locked on something behind Snow's shoulder. "Are those tablets?"

Snow spun around in his chair, a wave of panic washing over him. Karina sat on one of the armchairs in his bedroom.

Small boxes were scattered on the floor around her. He immediately recognized the packaging of the painkillers he'd been given after his last surgery.

The boxes weren’t what had him panicking, though.

What made his heart seize was the pile of pills on the table in front of her.

He sprang to his feet, nearly tripping as he bolted from his office, skidding around the corner too fast and crashing into a framed photograph on the wall. Glass shattered, but Snow didn’t stop.

Zya was right behind him, charging up the stairs two at a time, desperation written on his face as he raced to get to his kitten.

The sight of desolation on her face this morning had struck him to his core, knowing he was the one who had caused it.

He had shown her those damned photographs. He had brought her into the very room where he'd beaten her father senseless.

Snow shoved through the bedroom door, barely bothering with the handle.

Karina jumped, startled by the sudden intrusion, her glass of water spilling over her lap.

Dropping to his knees in front of her, Snow shoved the table aside. The pills scattered across the floor.

"How many have you taken?" he asked, his voice thick with panic as he cupped her face in his trembling hands.

She turned away, her eyes swollen and red. "Go away," she whispered, her voice breaking.

"How many?" he demanded, hearing Zya’s footsteps behind him. "Tell me!"

"It's okay," Zya’s voice was gentle, soothing the tension in the room. "We’re not angry. We just need to know how many you’ve taken." Karina shook her head, her movement restrained by Snow's grip.

"I haven’t," she whispered, tears running down her cheeks, tracing paths under her chin.

The rush of relief that surged through Snow almost made him dizzy. He pulled her into his lap, holding her tightly, his grip unyielding as she sobbed into his suit. His heart thundered, furious and relentless.

"I've got you, kitten," he murmured into her hair. "Everything will be okay. I have you."

"But it won’t be!" She pushed away from him, her voice rising. "I enabled my father for years. I took out credit cards over and over to keep his stupid club afloat. I saved every penny to help him, to let him invest in his business. I gave up a decade of my life, and for what? To watch him use it all to..." Her voice faltered as she gasped for air, unable to finish.

"I facilitated the abuse in that club. I’ve wasted my life, Snow. I thought I was helping him through his grief, but I allowed him to..."

Snow tried to comfort her as she struggled to breathe. "You didn’t know," he whispered softly.

"Ignorance isn’t an excuse," she said, her cheeks glistening with tears. "Even before this morning, my life had no purpose, Snow. The debt was crushing me. My father has never cared about me.

Vincent was always his favourite."

Snow remained silent, letting her pour out her pain. He gently stroked her hair, silently assuring her he was there, listening.

"I have no one. Not a single person who cares about me... The only calls I get are from debt collectors about missed payments and defaults. The only people who come to the house are bailiffs or Dad's dealer. And Dad only digs me deeper with every choice he makes. I just... I don’t see the point anymore, Snow. The best apology I could give those women... those girls... is to... to..."

Kill herself, Snow realised in a horrifying flash.

"Just let me go," she pleaded, her voice breaking. "Let me find some peace."

Zya's face was pale, twisted in anguish as he watched, as white as Snow had ever seen him.

Had it been anyone else in his arms, Snow would have checked on Zya, knowing his friend's painful history with suicide.

But all he could give Zya was a fleeting, grim look before his focus returned to the sobbing woman in his arms. He whispered soft reassurances, running his hand tenderly over her skin, trying to comfort her.

This was his fault. He'd treated her like a suspect from the very beginning. He had allowed Talon and Storm full control in gathering Henry and his secretive bookkeeper.

Even when he had discovered the bookkeeper was Karina, he hadn’t stopped to question her guilt. He hadn’t wondered if she might be innocent.

He hadn’t considered that this might be the breaking point for the kitten.