Chapter 7

COLTON

I’d once said Ramon’s fate was death. It was simple maths–a made man broke a rule, he paid for it, through execution.

No exception. No negotiation.

But right now, standing above the basement, I was about to change the result of that maths by breaking a rule again.

First time it was a rule about who I touched. Now it was a rule about who lived. Both times, it was for her.

I walked down to the basement, my feet bouncing against the floor leaving echoes on the narrow stairway. I didn't come with a guard.

Ramon rotated when I opened the door. He stood in the center of the basement, a bag tied over his face and his hands clasped together above his head, chained and bound to a pipe that ran across the open ceiling.

I pulled the lightbulb string, brightening the dark room. His torn shirt hung on the pipe, red strokes and bruises marked around his chest.

I edged forward, yanked the bag off his face and stepped back. The chain rattled with every gasp he took. He craned his head up, twitching his lips, a mixture of sweat and blood dripping to the floor from the cut on his nose. Broken.

“You know what happens to guilty people.” I touched my chin. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. It seemed his ability to speak was lost.

A little encouragement would do. I prowled closer and dragged the dangling chain. He groaned, and struggled to break loose as his frail legs dangled in the air.

“I–I,” he spoke. I let go of the chain and he fell to his feet, coughing out blood. “I–I ran cause I had to. Y–your dad isn’t telling you everything.”

I circled him. “You’re saying you don't deserve to be punished, yeah?” He kept panting, no words.

Dad wanted him dead. I’d nearly died in his hands too. He tied me to pipes under the hot sun—always for asking about my mother, more times than I could count. It was the only way to build my character. A weak man couldn’t run an empire. I learned to stop asking. I never disobeyed him. Until today.

I rolled the sleeves of my black shirt up, halted in his front and slanted my head. “You know Poppy.”

“Poppy Morgan?” His eyes bulged into their sockets. “What does she….” his head fell and he shrieked.

Morgan was their last name. Vanessa and Poppy, the new family I was forced to accept. When dad said I now had the mother I always wanted, my stomach hardened. He controlled everything he brought into this house. Everything he thought he owned and for a fact, I knew there was more to this marriage than Poppy and I understood.

I lifted my head. “You broke up with her. Three days ago.” Adrenaline rocked my body. I stared hard at him, grabbing his chin up. His eyes were blood shot. I jerked my hand away, his head falling to the side. “Then she ends up with me and hours later someone is threatening her with a picture only two should exist for.”

He stopped moving, just glanced up with wide eyes like what I had said horrified him more than being locked down here.

“She ended with you?” He held the chain around his hands, wheezing. “You don’t understand what you’ve done. She’s your...” A pause. “She’s part of the reason he wants me dead. If you’d just let me explain—”

“You should have thought about explaining before running.”

“I don't know anything about the picture.” He shook his head. “But you need to listen to me. Poppy—”

“That’s a hell of a coincidence.” I cut him off, uninterested in whatever story he was scrambling up.

“You won’t even listen. Fine. Then let her figure it out herself, that dumb bitch, since neither of you can be bothered to actually sit and think—”

My jaw ticked. I punched him on the nose, my ring leaving a new scar there.

He spat out blood, gasping for air. “You’re breaking your own rules.” He shifted his weight, the chain creaking. “Do you love her?”

I threw my fisted hand at his belly. Then took a menacing step and grabbed his face, digging my fingers into his cheekbone. He let out a ragged breath, growling.

The muscle on my jaw strained as I clenched my teeth. I yanked my hand backwards and pulled out my gun, deciding to stick to it.

“You’re going to kill the wrong person, Colt.” His face changed when he saw the gun. “He doesn’t want me dead because I ran. Ask him what he made my dad do. Kill me, and you’ll never know why.”

Boss to Colt.

My lips shifted to a corner and I nodded. The urge to know what he meant lingered in the back of my mind, but I shoved it off. I wasn’t going to stand and listen to stories of his dead father whom I met only once.

I walked behind him and yanked his hair, pressing the gun on his neck. “Don’t test me.” I pressed it deeper in his neck. “Now the picture, who sent it? And the text, what did it mean?”

“I didn’t do it,” his voice faltered. “I went straight to the airport after I broke up with her. Mateo found me that night, I had no idea where Poppy was.”

“You have people outside.”

“I swear I don't know about any picture….” he trailed off, his teeth chattering. Blood poured from cheek as he sobbed. “I’ve been locked here for days. How the fuck would I have a phone!”

“Watch your voice.” My voice was low and controlled. He fell silent, frozen.

I withdrew the gun and shoved his head away, putting the gun back into my back pocket. I leaned down and picked up the bag then covered his face again, ignoring his struggles.

Stepping away from him, I exited and bolted the door, bowing my head as I walked through the narrow stairs. Once at the hallway, I switched on the mop sink and rinsed off the blood on my hands, then pulled out a hand towel from my pocket and wiped my hand.

I turned and glanced at the blood trails my shoe left behind, and I blinked slowly. I’d ask Mateo to assign who’d clean it.

And until I knew who was behind those texts, Ramon would live. Against dad’s will but in my command.

It took five minutes to leave the hallway, climb the stairs and enter my room. Inside, I slumped down to my bed then shut my eyes. My anger towards Ramon had made me forget someone else who’d want to hurt Poppy. That thought made me sit up.

Celeste. She was an obsessed bitch, and would do anything to have me. She was a suspect.