Bound to the calloway's heir

DAMIAN.

The metallic tang of blood still clung to my clothes as I stepped out of the SUV, the Woodley night air doing little to wash away the adrenaline buzzing in my veins. Vanessa's lifeless eyes stared back at me in my mind. It was satisfying, but not enough. Killing her was like swatting a fly; the swarm was still out there. Maybe others are sniffing around Atlas's edges. And Ava... God, Ava. She was the real storm brewing in my chest.

I wiped my hands on my pants, the faint smear of red a reminder of the chaos. Noah was silent beside me, his jaw set like he was chewing on his own demons. "That was too clean," I muttered, scanning the dark streets. "Vanessa didn't act alone. Someone's pulling strings." He nodded, eyes flicking to his phone.

"Rico's digging. But we need to lock down the crew. No loose ends."

We piled into the jet, the hum of the engines a temporary lull. My thoughts drifted to Ava, her scent still on my skin from last night, her whispers echoing in my ear. But I wasn't walking away again. Not this time.

As the plane lifted off, my phone buzzed. A text from Ava

"Heard about Woodley. Are you okay? Come over. We need to talk."

My grip tightened. Talk? Or more? Either way, danger was closing in, and she was right in the crosshairs.

I leaned back in the leather seat, the vibration of the engines thrumming through my bones, but it did nothing to dull the edge in my mind. Vanessa's death replayed in my mind, the way her head snapped back, the spray of blood misting the air, the thud of her body hitting the floor. It should have felt like closure, a clean-cut severing of one more threat from the tangled web around Atlas. But satisfaction eluded me. Her eyes, wide and glassy in that final moment, mocked me. She was a pawn, elevated by her own greed, but pawns don't move without a hand guiding them. Who was the real player? Some upstart smells weakness in our ranks after the Club Eden fire?

I glanced at Noah across the aisle. He stared out the window into the black void, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm on his knee. His recent distractions and the way he had snapped orders during the hit made me curious.

"Are you good?" I asked, my voice low enough not to carry to Rico and the others dozing in the back.

He turned, his eyes shadowed. "As good as it gets after torching a club and dropping bodies. You?"

I snorted, "Alive. That's the bar these days."

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed again in my pocket. It was from the crew updating me about the fire at the club. When I turned back to face Noah, he had shut his eyes and was snoring softly. Though I wanted to address his situation, yet I ignored it for now.

The flight dragged, and I closed my eyes without sleeping until the jet touched down in LA with a jolt, the runway lights streaking.

We hopped off the jet in silence, and Noah clapped my shoulder. "Get some rest. Tomorrow,"

"Yeah," I muttered, but the rest was the last thing on my mind. I slid into my black Audi, the engine purring to life as I peeled out toward Ava's penthouse. The fire at Eden replayed in my head. I had watched the flames devouring the structure of my investments as it went up in smoke. We may have contained it and paid off the right officials, but the hit stung. It was a message that we had a mark on Atlas. And now, with Vanessa's blood on my hands, I wondered if I had escalated too far.

I drove into Ava's building, a sleek home, and I valet-parked, nodding to the security guard who knew me by sight. The elevator ride up felt eternal until the soft chime at the penthouse level echoed my unease. I rapped on her door; the sound rang through the quiet hallway.

No answer. I knocked again, louder. Silence.

"Ava?" I called, pressing my ear to the wood. Nothing. My gut twisted into a familiar knot, the kind that signaled trouble. I tried the handle and realized it was locked. Fishing out the spare key she had given me that morning, I hesitated. Then I decided I had no choice. I turned the key, and the lock clicked open.

The penthouse greeted me with her floral perfume mixed with the faint citrus of her favorite candles, but it felt abandoned.

"Ava?" I called again, stepping inside, my boots thudding on the marble floor. The living room sprawled before me, the floor-to-ceiling windows framing the glittering skyline, plush couches where we had spent tangled nights, a half-empty wine glass on the coffee table. There was no sign of her.

I checked the kitchen, Nothing, then I walked to the bedroom, the bed was made, and the closets were undisturbed. Everything was neatly placed. I started to feel panic flicker, but I tamped it down. She was probably out, I told myself. Maybe she had gone to a late fitting or a meeting with her agents.

But her text had said, "Come over." I pulled out my phone to dial her number. It rang once, twice, then straight to voicemail. "The number you have reached is not in service."

What the hell?

Disconnected? Ava lived on her phone for contracts, agents, and endless networking. She wouldn't cut it off without reason. I redialed it, and the result was the same. My uneasiness bloomed into full alarm.

Something was wrong. I paced back to the living room, my eyes scanning for clues. That was when I saw it. A note on the coffee table, propped against the wine glass.

Damian,

Heading to Paris early for the gala. I needed space to think. Don't worry, I'll call when I land. We can talk then.

Love, Ava

Space? From what? The previous night, she had clung to me like I was her anchor.

"There's something I need to tell you," she'd said in her text earlier. Now this? The note felt off. It was too abrupt. Paris was on her itinerary, sure, but early? And disconnecting her line? That screamed evasion, or worse, coercion.

I crumpled the paper and in my fist, Vanessa's death should have bought us time, but what if it triggered something else? What if someone got to her first? Using her as leverage against Zane, against me?

I sank onto the couch, the leather creaking under my weight. Standing abruptly, I pocketed the note and strode to the window, staring at the city below. I needed answers. Zane.

He would be aware of her schedule and contingencies. But calling him meant igniting his protectiveness and our history. Screw it. Ava was worth the explosion.

I dialed his phone, the line ringing as I paced. Zane answered on the third, his voice clipped. "Damian. If this is about that damn story..."

Story? "What story?" I cut in confusion, sharpening my tone.

A pause, then Zane's voice came up, "You haven't seen it? Some hack journalist dropped a bomb online on Atlas. Ties us to the cartel. It's blowing up, and our stocks are dipping. Sienna's handling damage control with the feds, but if you're calling to bitch about exposure..."

"Shut up about the story," I snapped, my pulse spiking. A leak? Now? But that could wait. "This isn't about that. Ava's missing."

Zane's voice went up a notch, "What the fuck do you mean, missing?"

I relayed it to him, informing him about her text, the note, the disconnected line, the empty penthouse. "She texted me after Woodley, said come over, we need to talk. I get here, and she's gone. Paris? Bullshit. She was spooked earlier, like she had something big to spill."

Zane's breathing rasped over the line. "You went to her again? After I told you..."

"Save the lecture," I growled, my free hand balling into a fist. "This isn't about us. Someone's after her."

"You think I don't know the risks?" Zane roared, "She's my sister, Damian! I built this empire to protect her, and you drag her into the dirt with your bullshit romance. If she's gone because of you..."

"Because of me?" Fury ignited, hot and blinding. I slammed my palm against the window, the glass vibrating. "I've been the one shielding her while you're off playing kingpin with Sienna! You think locking her away keeps her safe? She's out there building her life, and threats follow because of Atlas, our Atlas!"

Zane's retort came like a whip. "Don't twist this. You crossed the line years ago, and I let it slide because you're family. But if Ava's hurt, if this is payback for Vanessa or that fire..."

"The fire was a hit on us all!" I shouted back, pacing faster, the room closing in. "Eden burned because someone's testing our edges. Vanessa was part of it, but killing her doesn't end it. Ava knew something she tried to tell me. If you had listened instead of swinging fists "

"Listened? To you screwing my sister behind my back?" Zane thundered, "You're supposed to be my brother, Damian. Loyal. But you chose her over the code!"

I stopped dead, my chest heaving. "The code? That's your excuse? I chose the brotherhood once and walked away from her for you. You know what, Zane? I regretted it every day. She's not a prize, Zane and if you can't see that, if you let your ego blind you."

"Ego?" He laughed, cutting me off. "This is survival. Atlas stands because we don't let personal shit fracture us. You want her? Fine. But not at the cost of everything we've built. Get your head straight, or you're out."

The threat hung, a blade poised. My rage pulsed in my temples. "Out? After all I've bled for this? You'd throw me away like trash?"

"If it comes to that, yes." Zane's tone hardened, unyielding. "Now, focus. We find Ava. Ask Rico to pull strings at the airport. If she's in Paris, we will confirm. If not..."

"We tear the city apart," I finished, my voice was steady despite the storm inside. With Ava gone, the aftermath of raining down fire and spilling blood had just begun.

The call ended with a click, leaving me in silence. I stared at the phone as Zane's annoying words echoed through my ears. I fired off texts to Rico to track Ava Sinclair's Paris flight manifests, phone pings, everything. Emphasizing how urgent it was. Then I grabbed my keys, slamming the penthouse door behind me. Whatever came next, I would face it...for her.