Married to the Enemy

The Ashford home was usually a quiet place. Even footsteps seemed to whisper on the marble floors. But that night, the quiet was broken. Loud voices came from the lower part of the house. They were sharp enough to be heard through the closed doors of the meeting room and down the halls. The workers moved quietly along the walls, their steps softer than usual, their eyes looking down. Everyone knew something was wrong. The feeling was in the air, heavy and pressing down everywhere in the house. Inside the meeting room, people were starting to lose their patience. Papers were spread across the big table. Reports were marked and re-marked, numbers circled over and over, as if trying hard enough would make them change. A tablet showed a map of a route they had looked at too many times. "They hit us again," one man said, his voice showing he couldn't believe it. "It's the same way, the same access. Whoever is doing this isn't guessing." Another man leaned forward, placing his hands flat on the table. "Then someone is talking. That's the only way this makes sense." "That's a big accusation," a third voice said, but he didn't really sound like he was questioning it. The room was already thinking that way. "It's a smart guess," the second man answered. "You don't stop shipments like this unless you know exactly where they are and when. This isn't by accident." Victor Ashford, sitting at the head of the table, listened without saying anything. He looked from one speaker to another, noticing everything – how they sounded, if they hesitated, the frustration that came out even in their calmest words. He had become successful by being patient, by letting people reveal more than they wanted to by just letting them talk. "How many shipments?" he asked. "Five confirmed," came the answer. "All in the last three weeks. Two more might be involved, but we're still checking." "And did we get anything back?" Victor asked. There was a pause. "Nothing." That word felt heavy. Victor leaned back a little, his fingers touching the arms of his chair. "No one tried to sell them? Nothing showed up in any known places?" "Nothing we could find," the man said. "It's like they just disappear completely." Another voice spoke, quieter this time. "We found what was left of one convoy." Victor's eyes moved to him. "And?" "It had been burned. Not robbed. Not picked apart. Just... destroyed." The room was quiet for a moment, a silence that meant more than the arguments before it. That detail changed everything. This wasn't just business as usual. There was no reason to destroy things like that. No gain that could be measured in money or control. "Have the Rivas done anything strange?" someone asked. Victor didn't answer right away. The name had been in the room without being spoken. Now that it was said, it stayed there, impossible to ignore. "They've been quiet," another man added. "Too quiet." Victor looked at him. "You think they did it?" "I think it's possible," the man said carefully. "And we would be wrong if we didn't think about it." Victor looked at him for a moment before speaking. "The Rivas don't hide what they're doing when they act," he said. "And they don't waste things without a reason." That didn't completely dismiss the idea, but it made it less likely. "If it's not them," someone else said, "then we're dealing with someone new." Victor didn't argue with that. He had already thought of it. Someone who knew their routes. Their timing. Their system. Someone who had been watching. "We lock everything down," Victor said finally, his voice steady enough to bring the room back to order. "Nothing moves without being checked. Every connection needs to be reviewed. If there's a weak spot, we find it before they do." Heads nodded around the table, but the tension didn't go away. This wasn't a problem that would be fixed quickly. One by one, the men started to gather their things. The meeting ended without a clear answer. The questions remained, feeling heavier now that they had been spoken out loud. Victor stayed behind. The room felt different once everyone left. The noise was replaced by a quieter kind of pressure. He looked for a moment toward one of the empty chairs. Caius should have been there. Not because he was called, but because he usually got involved when things started to change. His absence was strange, though Victor didn't say anything about it. Instead, he picked up one of the reports again, reading the same lines he had already read. The numbers didn't change. Across the city, the Rivas home felt the same unrest in a way that couldn't be contained. Voices argued openly, their words overlapping without any attempt to be quiet. Where the Ashfords held their tension inside, the Rivas let it spill out. "This doesn't just happen," one man snapped, walking back and forth in the middle of the room. "We don't lose shipments like this unless someone allows it." "And who exactly do you think is responsible?" another shot back. "I think we've been too focused on what's in front of us to see what's changing around us." "That's not an answer." "It's the truth." Alejandro Rivas stood at the far end of the room, watching them argue without interrupting. His presence alone kept things from getting completely out of control, though the tension in the room was still high. When he finally spoke, the room went still. "Enough." He didn't shout, but his word carried enough weight to stop everything. "We're not getting anywhere like this," he continued. "If you have something useful to say, say it clearly. If not, stop wasting time." The men fell silent, though their frustration remained. "We've lost three shipments," one of them said more calmly. "All on safe routes. No sign of anyone stopping them before. No recovery afterward." "And the Ashfords?" Alejandro asked. "They haven't reacted to any of it," another answered. "Which is strange." Alejandro's eyes narrowed slightly. "Strange doesn't mean they did it." "It doesn't mean they didn't." That hung in the air for a moment. Alejandro thought about it before speaking again. "If the Ashfords were behind this, they wouldn't be quiet about it. They would make sure we knew." His reasoning made sense, but it didn't bring any comfort. "So what are we dealing with?" someone asked. Alejandro didn't answer right away. He had learned to trust the feeling he got when something wasn't quite right, and this situation felt wrong in every detail. "We're dealing with someone patient," he said at last. "Someone who has been watching long enough to know where to attack." That wasn't the answer they wanted, but it was the one that made the most sense. The meeting went on, circling the same questions without finding anything solid. By the time it ended, the house had grown quieter, though the tension stayed just below the surface. Alejandro went to his study, closing the door behind him. For a moment, he stood in the silence, letting the noise of the evening fade into something he could think about more clearly. Then his phone buzzed. He reached for it, expecting another report, but there was none. Instead, an idea came to him, and his eyes lit up in surprise. He started typing. Right after that, he pressed send. At almost the same time, Victor Ashford received it. He opened it without waiting, his attention becoming sharp as he read. The message was short, but every word was chosen carefully. Subject: A Solution We Can No Longer Ignore From: A.Rivas@… Victor, We both know this situation can't go on. What we're facing isn't just a small problem, and continuing like this will only make both sides weaker. We've spent years working against each other. That hasn't changed. What has changed is something that benefits from that conflict. If this continues, neither of us will survive it. There's a way to make things stable, at least long enough to understand what we're dealing with. It needs something neither of us has wanted to consider before, but things have already moved past what we prefer. A strong agreement between our families. One that can't be easily broken without problems. One that forces stability where there is no trust. Your son. My son. A marriage. This isn't a gift. It's a smart choice. The city will see it as a change in power, and it will make whoever is working against us think again. If you're willing to talk more about this, you know how to reach me. —Alejandro Victor read it twice, his face showing nothing. Across the city, Alejandro stood by his desk, looking at the screen as if expecting a quick answer, though he knew better. Neither man rushed. They didn't need to speak to understand how important what had just been suggested was. This wouldn't fix everything. It wouldn't erase the past. But it would change what happened next. Victor walked to the window, the city spread out below him with its quiet lights and distant movement. Noctyra had always belonged to those who knew how to adapt when things changed. This was one of those times. He turned back to his desk, his decision settling into place with a clarity that left no room for doubt. Across the city, Alejandro let out a slow breath, already thinking about what the answer would be. Victor's reply came minutes later. Subject: Re: A Solution We Can No Longer Ignore Alejandro, I agree. —Victor Alejandro read the response once, then put his phone down.