Bound to the calloway's heir

֍֍֍ ֍֍֍֍֍֍

ONE LAST ACT OF FAVOR

I woke slowly, my muscles aching in that deep, satisfying way from the night before of an endless blaze of passion where Harper's skin had slid against mine, her gasps mingling with my groans as we had chased release after release until exhaustion claimed us.

My hand reached out instinctively, fingers brushing the cool fabric where her warmth had been, the indentation of her hip faint but telling. The air hung heavy with the scent of us of her musk vanilla shampoo...but she was gone.

Fear flickered in my chest as I sat up, my heart quickening with the thought that she might be in the kitchen, brewing coffee with that knowing smile she had worn after our confessions. I had hoped the fire between us, the burning love that had ignited like a spark to dry tinder, the promising horizon we had sketched in breathless murmurs, had swayed her from her path.

"Harper?" I screamed.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, the wooden floor cold under my bare feet, sending a shiver up my spine that matched the growing unease twisting in my gut.

"Harper?" I called again, my voice rough from sleep and the night's exertions, echoing off the walls of the small living room as I padded out.

The morning light filtering through the grimy window to illuminate the clutter of takeout boxes from our late-night snacks, her notebook flipped open on the coffee table with scribbled notes on Atlas's facade, my laptop still humming softly where I had set up the secure line for her potential stream.

The flash drive.

My eyes darted to the table, and the absence struck me like a fist to the solar plexus. It was gone too, vanished, just like her.

Panic clawed at the edges of my mind, but I pushed it down, searching the apartment methodically, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I checked the bathroom; her toothbrush was still in the holder, damp from use, but her go-bag was missing from under the sink. I went to the bedroom again to check her closet. It was lighter; a few clothes were gone, too.

The realization sank in at once.

She'd taken the drive. Which meant that she had finally decided to use it for her own good, to vindicate her journalism career by exposing the cartel operations I'd confessed to.

"Shit! Goddamn"

I had hoped our passionate sex, and the burning love that had blazed between us of the promising future, would sway her, burn faster and deeper than her dead career. But she was gone. Her decision was made.

The betrayal stung at me deeply, like a knife twisting in an old wound. I sank onto the edge of the bed, holding my head in my hands, letting my fingers dig into my scalp as if to hold back the flood of thoughts crashing through me.

What would she do with it exactly? Would she stream it live from some safe house, or leak it to her old contacts, watching the viral spread from afar? And the cartel would all be exposed because I had chosen her over them, just as she had chosen revenge over us?

The apartment suddenly felt smaller, the walls closing in with the weight of my betrayal, the multi-billion-dollar empire's destiny now hinged on a woman I'd loved enough to betray everything.

But I owed them. The brothers and the cartel, because they were family, forged in blood long before Harper had walked into Club Eden with her piercing gaze and turned my world upside down.

Even in my rebellion, even as hatred for Zane's refusal to spare her simmered, I couldn't let them walk blind into the inferno I had ignited. My sworn duty tugged harder at me. I grabbed my burner phone from the duffel I had packed the previous night and dialed Zane.

The line rang twice, three times, each tone a hammer blow to my resolve. He answered on the fourth, his voice a low growl that sent a chill skittering down my spine, the kind that raised the hairs on my arms. "Noah. Where the hell are you? You better have a damn good explanation, or so help me..."

"Zane, listen," I interrupted, my voice steady despite the sweat beading on my forehead. I paced the small space, "I'm at Harper's. I... I gave her the drive. It has a recording of everything. The tech investments masking shipments, laundering through startups, your orders on hits. She's going to stream it. Vindicate her career. The empire, it's over."

Silence stretched on the line, while I listened as Zane's breath came heavy yet controlled, but I could picture his jaw clenching, his eyes narrowing like a storm gathering force. "You what? After I ordered her handled? Noah, you've gone soft. That journalist's exposé nearly gutted us. And you hand her the keys? Disloyalty like this... It's death. The cartel doesn't forgive traitors."

The threat hung heavy, my heart pounding against my ribs like a caged beast, the apartment's walls seeming to close in further, the light from the window now harsh and accusing. My worry about Harper spiked. What would he do now? Rally the brothers for a counterstrike? Hunt us both with the precision of a guided missile?

"I know the cost," I replied, my voice low, "But Zane, I'm out. For her. But I owe you this warning. You should focus on the cartel's fate. Without me, how do you hold it not scream about revenge?"

Zane's laugh was dark, it's bark that echoed through the phone, sending a jolt through me. "Curious? It's suicide, Noah. You think Atlas crumbles without you? I'll rebuild. Cut the losses, strike back harder. But you... Brother, you're dead to me. And Harper? She's first on the list."

The line went dead, the final click of a door slamming on my past. Harper had made her choice. And so have I.