Page 44 of Dark Prince

But for a fleeting moment, I catch something in his gaze—a flicker of sorrow, perhaps, or maybe a hint of regret. It's gone as quickly as it appeared, leaving me to wonder if I imagined it.

I struggle against the zip ties binding my wrists together, the need for answers, for understanding, pushing me beyond the physical pain and emotional turmoil. “How?” I demand. “How did you do it?”

Sharon looks almost disinterested as she basks in the glow of her own perceived cleverness. “Your father,” she begins, her tone dripping with disdain, “was always too small-minded. He cared for nothing beyond his precious little territory, his neighborhood. He lacked vision and ambition. Taking him out of the equation was simple.”

She pauses, a cruel smile curling her lips as she savors the moment. “All it took was ensuring his heart medication was just out of reach during one of his episodes. To everyone else, it appeared as nothing more than a tragic occurrence.”

The words are a gut punch. My father—whose only crime was his dedication to his community and his family—was reduced to nothing more than an obstacle in Sharon's path.

The realization that his death—which shattered my world—was orchestrated so coldly, so calculatedly leaves me spinning.

I wish Sharon had never come into our lives.

Rage simmers beneath the surface, a burning desire to make Sharon pay for her crimes. But with my options limited, my body restrained, all I can do is listen, absorbing the weight of her confession.

“Once I'm done, the Flanagan legacy will be nothing more than a footnote in my empire. Your father was just the beginning, Maura. He was too shortsighted and too obsessed with his community to see its true potential.”

“You think you can just erase us? Erase my father's life’s work with a wave of your hand?”

She laughs, a sound that's both chilling and infuriating. “Of course, my dear. It's already happening. And you? You're just another loose end to tie up.”

Despair threatens to consume me, but a stubborn spark of defiance ignites within. Sharon may believe she's won, that she's stripped me of everything, but she's underestimated my strength. My father's memory, the love I have for Luk, and the future of our child—will not be extinguished.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Rory shifting uncomfortably. I seize on it, desperate for any crack in their united front. “Even Rory doesn't seem too sure about your plan, Sharon. Or are you too blinded by your wicked ambition to notice?”

Rory remains silent, his expression unreadable, but the momentary lapse doesn't go unnoticed. Sharon seems oblivious to his hesitation; however, she is far too caught up in herself. “I know where Rory’s loyalty lies. As for you, dear, your time is running out.”

Sharon's face hardens, a mask of annoyance settling over her features. “Enough of this,” she declares, her voice cold and commanding. “Rory, finish her, once and for all.”

Rory, who’s always followed Sharon's orders without question, pauses—a hesitation so slight, yet so profound. It's the first crack in his unwavering loyalty. A small smile forms on my lips at the sight.

Sharon's patience snaps like a twig. “Now, Rory. We finish this tonight,” she orders, her voice laced with a heartless finality.

He shifts uncomfortably, avoiding Sharon's gaze. “She’s pregnant, Sharon. It doesn't sit right with me,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

I seize the moment despite the fear gripping me. “Rory, you don't have to do this. There's still a chance to make this right,” I urge him, attempting to take advantage of the shred of morality he’s showing.

Sharon's fury boils over. “This isn't up for debate! We can't let her go. Luk will tear the city apart to find her. She's a loose end that needs to be tied up—permanently,” Sharon barks, her eyes blazing with a manic intensity.

Rory looks torn. His loyalty to Sharon is at war with his moral compass. “Can't we just send her away to another country? Something similar to a witness protection program, although she’ll be guarded, heavily watched,” he suggests in a desperate attempt to find a middle ground.

Sharon stares at Rory for a full minute, a look of disbelief on her face. “No!” she finally shouts, her voice slicing through the silent tension. “Luk will never stop looking for her. He has… ways of getting people to talk. He’ll stop at nothing to find her. And when he does, there’s no telling what he’ll do to us. She cannot leave here alive.”

Sharon and Rory stare at one another, each one unwavering. I sit in awe at what I’m witnessing. Never before has Rory defied her, and I can see the decision weighing heavily on him, the moment stretching out like a tightrope.

Suddenly, the standoff is shattered by the sound of gunfire. The noise is deafening in the quiet of the warehouse. Sharon whirls around, startled, her momentary distraction offering a glimpse of vulnerability.

Rory's attention zeroes in on the source of the disturbance, his hand instinctively moving to his weapon. The dynamic shifts in an instant and the imminent threat from outside temporarily unites them in confusion and fear.

For a brief moment, I am forgotten, supplanted by the immediate need to respond to the unknown danger. My heart races, not knowing what this development means for me. Is it a rescue or a new threat?

One of the guards, holding a mean-looking assault rifle in his hands, rushes into the warehouse.

“It’s Ivanov,” he says. “He’s found us.”

It’s all I can do to keep from shouting with joy. “How?” The word explodes from Sharon’s mouth. “How the hell did he find us?”

The guard shrugs in response.

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