Chapter Three: A Dead Man's Choice
Milan Moretti's Private Club – 3:14 A.M.
The silence in the club was brutal.
The usual music, the clink of glasses, the heavy perfume of money and sin—tonight, it was all gone. Replaced by sweat, fear, and the stench of failure.
Milan Moretti sat in the red leather booth like a king at war. The club was empty except for his men and the three kneeling on the marble floor—bloody, trembling, breathing hard. The bodies of two others had already been dragged out, leaving crimson streaks like brushstrokes across the floor.
"I gave you one name," Milan said coldly. "One."
No one dared speak. One of the kneeling men let out a choked cough. His nose was broken, blood running into his mouth.
"You failed to kill a lawyer," Milan continued, standing. His suit was charcoal gray, immaculate, with not a drop of blood on it. "A man with no security, no backup, no weapon. And not only did you fail... you led him straight to her."
Aurora.
The name wasn't said. It didn't have to be.
"Do you know what that means?" Milan asked, his voice almost gentle.
The silence was answer enough.
He walked slowly toward them, hands behind his back.
"She has him now. She'll either turn him into a weapon or use him as a trophy. And either way... she'll come for us next."
He nodded once, and one of his guards raised a silenced pistol.
The man on the far left screamed once before a quiet phfft cut him short.
Two kneeling.
Milan crouched in front of the middle one, gripping his jaw hard enough to crack it. "You don't fail me. Not in the streets. Not in court. Not in front of her."
He stood. "Clean it up."
The second shot echoed like a kiss of death.
Milan Moretti poured himself a drink, already planning the next move.
Aurora's Estate – 8:02 A.M.
Kael didn't sleep.
He tried. God, he tried.
But his mind kept replaying everything: the men in the alley, the sound of bones breaking, Aurora's voice in the dark, her eyes watching him through camera feeds.
He was still in the same pair of borrowed black lounge pants when Aurora entered the sunlit lounge with a folder in hand and a mug of coffee—black, unsweetened.
She placed both on the table in front of him.
"Good morning, Counselor."
Kael raised a brow. "Is it?"
She smiled faintly. "That depends entirely on your attitude."
He ignored the jab and reached for the folder. Inside were two documents:
A forged identity.
A sealed brief labeled Classified: Operation Severance.
"What is this?" he asked.
"Two choices," she said, sitting across from him. "Choice one: you disappear. New name, new passport, fresh start. You run from everything. No one finds you. Ever."
"And the second?"
"You stay. Work for me—unofficially. You'll be protected, useful... alive."
Kael snorted. "Protected? In your web?"
She didn't react. "I don't cage people. I make them useful. You'd be my legal scalpel. Off the books. Your moral compass can twist slowly over time."
"No," Kael said firmly. "I'm not becoming one of your puppets."
Aurora nodded slowly, like she'd expected the answer. Then she stood.
"Come with me."
She led him through a corridor he hadn't seen before, down a stairwell lined with heavy black metal. Every camera watched them. Every lock clicked open at her presence.
Kael didn't speak. Neither did she.
They exited into a sleek underground garage. A matte-black SUV was already waiting, engine humming.
No words were spoken during the ride. The silence was colder now—an edge beneath it, like steel wrapped in silk.
They arrived outside a modest apartment building in the city.
Kael froze the second he saw it.
His building.
"No," he whispered.
Aurora was already walking.
His apartment door was cracked open. That alone was enough to twist his stomach, but when he stepped inside, the full weight of it hit him like a hammer.
Drawers pulled out. Clothes shredded. Books torn apart. His laptop, smashed. His law degree, cracked down the middle like a broken spine.
Pictures of him and his late mother—ripped.
Kael stood still in the middle of it, jaw tight, breathing shallow.
"They left a message," Aurora said quietly. "You're not just a threat anymore. You're a target. If I hadn't intervened…"
Kael turned to her. His voice was low, ragged.
"You let this happen."
"No," she replied. "They did. I'm just the only one who cares enough to show you what you're really up against."
He walked past her, fists clenched, into the kitchen. The fridge had been left open, food rotting. Even the smallest things had been defiled—like they wanted him to know he'd never be safe again.
"Still want to be noble, counselor?" she asked from behind.
Kael turned, fire in his eyes. "You think this proves something? That I have no choice but to join you?"
Aurora stepped forward, closing the distance between them.
"No," she said. "I think it proves you already lost the illusion of choice."
He stared at her, his face unreadable. But his eyes—his eyes were thunder.
Perfect. This will build more tension and deepen Kael's sense of isolation. We'll show him trying to return to the life he once had, only to realize that life no longer exists—or worse, is now a trap.
---
**
Kael stared at the ruin of his apartment, the shattered remains of his life surrounding him like broken glass.
"I'm not yours," he said, turning back to Aurora. "And I won't be."
Aurora didn't flinch. "You'd rather crawl back to a system that just left you for dead?"
"I'd rather fight *my* way," Kael said tightly. "Not as your blade, not as your pet."
She studied him in silence, her face unreadable.
"Very well," she said at last. "You have twenty-four hours."
He narrowed his eyes. "To what?"
"To realize you don't have any allies left."
Then she walked out, leaving the smell of perfume and danger behind her.
---
### **Later That Day – Midtown Police Precinct**
Detective Elias Crane had seen Kael in every kind of state—furious, smug, sleepless from trial work—but never like this.
Kael looked like a man coming down from war. His clothes were clean but wrinkled, his movements stiff. His eyes were storm-colored, watching everything too closely.
"You look like hell," Elias muttered, gesturing him into the back office.
Kael walked past the bullpen, ignoring the way two uniformed officers stopped talking when he passed.
"Tell me something," Kael said as Elias shut the door. "Anyone been asking questions about me lately? People who don't belong?"
Elias frowned. "You mean reporters?"
Kael shook his head. "I mean the kind of people who don't knock."
Crane leaned forward, voice lower. "What's going on?"
"I was jumped two nights ago," Kael said flatly. "Four guys. Armed. I got away. Barely."
"Jesus. Why the hell didn't you call me?"
"Because I woke up in a mansion owned by Aurora Vale."
Elias's expression froze. "The Black Dahlia?"
"Yeah," Kael muttered. "Her."
He laid it out—carefully. The ambush, the aftermath, waking up in enemy territory. He skipped the part where he'd eaten her grapes and felt her breath on his skin. Focused on facts. Crime. Blood. Politics.
When he finished, Elias leaned back in his chair, stunned.
"You realize you're walking on landmines, right?" Elias asked. "She doesn't just *save* people. She collects them."
Kael stood, too wired to sit. "I'm not working for her. I just need your help finding out who those men were. I need a list of Moretti's active muscle. And I need a safehouse for a few days."
Elias sighed and stood as well. "Look, I'll pull what I can from our confidential logs, but Kael... you're being watched. There's heat on you right now. Serious heat. Internal Affairs is sniffing around about that rape case. Something doesn't smell right."
Kael's blood went cold. "They're going after *me*?"
"You embarrassed a powerful family," Elias said. "Word is someone upstairs is trying to discredit your trial record. Maybe worse."
Kael turned toward the blinds, looking out over the street.
"I'm not letting them bury me," he muttered.
Elias hesitated. "Kael... be careful. This isn't about the law anymore."
---
### **Two Hours Later – Kael's Return to the Apartment**
Kael stepped out of a taxi and onto his block.
The building was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that made your skin crawl.
He climbed the steps slowly. The door had been fixed. Locked. But he noticed the mailbox slightly ajar—nothing major, but Kael remembered closing it.
He reached the second-floor landing and froze.
The door to his apartment was open.
Just an inch.
He reached for the pocketknife he'd taken from Elias's glove box and slipped it into his palm.
Slowly, he pushed the door open.
His apartment was dark, almost untouched since earlier—but something was *off*. The lights hummed slightly. His bookshelf had one extra gap. His drawer was now closed—but he never closed it.
He stepped in.
That's when he heard it.
The subtle, unmistakable click of a trigger being cocked behind him.
"Hello, counselor."
A man stepped out from the hallway, gun trained on Kael's head. Another appeared near the kitchen, blocking the exit. Both wore suits, smooth and silent, with the same cold calculation in their eyes.
"You should've stayed in the cage," one of them said.
Kael's heart thundered—but his expression didn't shift.
"You're making a mistake," he said.
"No," the first man replied. "*You* did, when you walked away from her protection."
The gunshot never came.
Because in that moment, the window shattered—and darkness exploded into the room.
Flash grenades. Smoke. Screaming.
Someone grabbed Kael by the shoulder and dragged him back. He fought blindly until he heard the voice—low, firm, and female.
"You're welcome," Aurora said in his ear.
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**