The video came in at 3:46 a.m.
No sound.
No watermark.
Just grainy black and white footage of a girl tied to a chair, a shadow pacing behind her, and a single word printed across the top in blood-red font:
"Payment."
Julian stood in front of the screen, teeth grinding so hard his jaw ached. Aria stood beside him, still as glass, her hand curled into a fist so tight her nails cut into her palm.
She knew the girl.
So did Julian.
Her name was Mira—nineteen, brilliant, the daughter of a woman who once saved Aria's life when she was still running through the underworld with borrowed names and a stolen gun.
Mira had never been part of this world.
Now she was its currency.
"He took her because of me," Aria whispered.
"No," Julian said sharply. "He took her because he wants control."
"Then he'll learn what happens when you hold a knife to my throat."
But Julian could see it—the fraying edges of her control, the wildness creeping back into her eyes. Aria wasn't cold anymore. She was burning. And Silas had just poured gasoline on the fire.
—
Two hours later, they tracked the signal. A shell company in Marseille—registered to a name Silas had used six years ago. Damon ran interference, planting a false leak through a known mercenary contact.
They needed a distraction.
They needed silence.
They needed no mistakes.
But Aria made one anyway.
She left without Julian.
Again.
—
The warehouse stank of mold and blood.
Aria moved like a wraith, two blades strapped to her thighs, gun silenced and ready. She found Mira tied to a steel chair in the center of the room, eyes wide, mouth taped, blood at her temple.
And standing behind her—
Silas.
Aria froze.
She hadn't expected him to be there in person.
But of course he was. He didn't send messages.
He delivered them.
"You've changed," he said, stepping into the dim light. "But I suppose Julian always saw the potential in you."
She kept her voice flat. "Let her go."
He walked in a slow circle around Mira, hand trailing across the girl's shoulder. "You were meant to die in that fire, Aria. When I burned Julian's little kingdom, I expected ash. But instead, I found you still breathing."
She took a step forward. "If you touch her again, you'll lose that hand."
Silas laughed softly. "And if you shoot me, ten men come through that door. Do you want to test the math?"
Aria raised her gun anyway.
He smiled.
She pulled the trigger.
The bullet skimmed his cheek—just a graze. Enough to draw blood.
Enough to send a message.
"I don't negotiate," she said coldly.
Silas's smile slipped.
But he clapped once—and the doors opened behind him.
Julian walked in with Damon and three of his men, guns drawn, eyes locked on Aria.
"We had a plan," Julian growled.
"I don't care."
Silas raised his hands. "Oh, how domestic. Trouble in paradise already?"
"Shut up," Julian said.
But Silas wasn't done.
"You should've killed her when you had the chance, Julian. Instead, you made her strong. You taught her how to destroy empires."
Julian's voice dropped. "And now she'll burn yours."
"Will she?" Silas asked. "Because as long as she cares about anyone in this world, she'll always be weaker than me."
Julian lunged.
Gun pressed to Silas's throat.
But it was Aria who made the decision.
She walked forward and cut Mira loose, hand steady, eyes never leaving Silas's.
Then she said, softly but clearly, "Next time, I'll bring your son."
Silas froze.
Julian turned sharply. "What did you just say?"
Aria looked at him. "You didn't know?"
A beat of silence.
And then chaos.
—
Back in the car, Mira asleep in the back seat and Damon driving like the devil was behind them, Julian finally spoke.
"You lied to me."
Aria didn't flinch. "I didn't owe you the truth."
"You knew Silas had a child. You knew where he was. And you didn't tell me."
"He's hidden," she said. "Far from this. I kept him safe."
"You kept him to use."
She turned on him. "Don't you dare talk to me about use. You're the one who taught me how to weaponize love."
He recoiled slightly, as if she'd struck him.
Damon's voice cut through the tension. "If Silas finds out you have his son—"
"He already suspects," Aria said. "But he doesn't know where. That's all that's kept the boy alive."
Julian stared at her. "You've turned into something else."
She looked out the window, voice low. "No. I've turned into what you made me."
—
When they returned to the bunker, Aria walked past everyone and straight into the bathroom. She stripped the bloodstained shirt from her body, stepped under the water, and let it scald the skin.
She'd lied.
Of course she had.
But it was for the right reasons. The boy—Silas's son—was hidden in the mountains with a woman loyal to Aria alone. She'd found him by accident during her years in exile. Barely seven, afraid of his own shadow.
She hadn't told Julian because she hadn't known what he'd do.
Now she knew.
He'd weaponize him.
Just like she would.
That was the world they lived in now.
—
Later that night, Julian came to her room.
She didn't invite him in.
He walked in anyway.
"You're going to use that boy to bait Silas."
"Yes."
"Even if it kills you?"
"It won't."
Julian's voice lowered. "You don't get to die. Not like this."
Aria turned to him. "You don't get to decide that anymore."
"I decide what I can't live without," he said roughly. "And I can't—"
She stopped him with a look. "Don't say it. You don't mean it."
He walked forward anyway, until their breaths collided.
"I mean it more than I've meant anything in my life," he said.
Her heart stuttered.
But she shook her head. "It's too late."
"It's not."
She stepped back.
And he let her go.
For now.
—
The next morning, Aria woke to silence.
The bunker was empty.
Julian was gone.
Damon was gone.
Only a note on the war room table remained, scrawled in Julian's sharp, impatient hand.
"If he wants blood, I'll give him mine. Stay out of this."
Aria stared at the words.
And then, without hesitation, she grabbed her gun.
Because Julian thought this war was his.
But it wasn't.
Not anymore.
It was hers.
And she would not lose another person to Silas Ward.
No matter what it cost.