35. Vogue

Silence descends.The kind that is uneasy and makes me very uncomfortable. I'm speechless, not having anything to say to what he's laid before me. I don't know if I can believe everything he has said about my mother.

I shake my head, trying to dislodge the fear and confusion. "Survive what, exactly?" I demand suddenly, feeling the blood drain from my face as I consider the implications of his words. The thought of Callum, Quentin, Thayer, and Harry facing an unknown test—one that could end with them in body bags—tightens my throat with panic.

Aaron's gaze doesn't waver. "It's not for you to worry about now," he says coolly. "What you should be focusing on is keeping your head down and following the rules."

"Rules that are supposed to keep me safe?" There's a bite to my voice I can't quite hide. My fists clench in my lap; I'm not used to being kept in the dark, treated like some child who needs protecting.

"They will keep you safe," he insists, though there's a hint of something like sorrow that flickers across his features for just a moment. "You're not a pawn here, Vogue. You're the Queen on the chessboard—valuable but vulnerable if left unprotected. I've had to accept that with this leak, and you need to as well."

I let out a harsh laugh that sounds more like a scoff. "The infamous leak that no one knows where to plug." I rise and turn away from him, pacing back and forth as I try to sort through the mayhem in my mind.

"You don't have to trust me," Aaron adds after a moment of silence. "But trust that I have both our interests at heart."

My pace slows, and I glance back over my shoulder at him. "Just tell me one thing," I say quietly. "Why should any of this matter to me?"

Aaron stands, his presence demanding attention. "Because whether you like it or not, Vogue, you're part of this world now. Your life is intertwined with ours, with mine, and I'll be damned if I let anything happen to you."

The finality in his voice roots me to the spot, but it's not just fear that I feel—it's an odd sense of belonging that terrifies me more than any threat could. For so long, I've navigated life on my own, using my wits to survive. Now, I'm being forced into a narrative that's been written long before I even took my first breath.

I fold my arms across my chest, steeling myself against the vulnerability creeping up my spine.

The door opening suddenly makes Aaron look up, but then he relaxes.

"Bigsy," he murmurs. "What's up?"

The man called Bigsy, a weasly-looking character, tall and wiry, hardened by life, glances at me and then at Aaron.

He licks his lips and closes the door, moving further into the room. It's not just his face that makes me move back a fraction, but something about his deliberate movements is off.

I frown at my dad, but he is looking at Bigsy, an inquiring expression on his face.

Time slows to a crawl as Bigsy closes in on me, his tall figure looming over me. I quickly sidestep, but he grabs me from behind and tightens his arm around my neck like a vice. My heart pounds in terror as the cold metal of a gun barrel presses against my temple. The air is thick with tension and fear as I struggle to break free, but his hold only grows tighter. Every nerve in my body is on edge as I brace myself.

"You!" Aaron hisses, his face going from curious to furious in the space of a second. "You are fucking dead."

"Nah," Bigsy states, his breath foul next to my face. "She is if you don't play your cards right. We're going to have a little game of Russian Roulette."

My heart pounds against my ribcage like it's trying to break free. I can feel the chill of the gun's barrel pressed against my skin, a shiver of dread running down my spine. "You don't have to do this," I stammer, trying to keep my voice steady, but it's hard when every instinct screams at me to fight, to flee.

"Shut up," Bigsy growls in my ear, his grip tightening until I can barely breathe. His body is tense behind me, like a coiled spring ready to unleash chaos at the slightest provocation.

Aaron doesn't move an inch, eyes locked on Bigsy with a lethal calmness that terrifies me. "Let her go," he says, voice low and dangerous, his hand moving slowly around his back.

"Don't even think about it," Bigsy growls, pressing the gun harder to my temple. "I'll keep pulling the trigger until she's out of chances."

Aaron's gaze shifts to mine briefly before back to Bigsy and he holds his hand halfway up. "What is it you want?"

"More."

"More what?"

"More everything. I want this office and the power that goes with it."

I wince when Aaron lets out an amused bark of a laugh that doesn't thrill Bigsy one bit.

"You're fucking deluded," Aaron says, shaking his head.

Bigsy's arm around my neck is a vise. "You think this is funny, Aaron?" he snarls, and I sense the desperation in his voice. It's the kind of recklessness that comes from having nothing left to lose.

Aaron keeps his cool, though, sizing Bigsy up. "I think you're overplaying your hand," he responds, every word measured and deliberate.

"And what makes you so sure?" Bigsy spits out.

"Because you took her instead of me."

Confusion flickers across Bigsy's face for a moment, giving me a sliver of hope. But the gun pressed to my head is unyielding.

"Think about it," Aaron continues. "If you wanted power, you should have taken me hostage. But Vogue? She's the Queen – valuable, but not the King." A sinister smile creeps onto Aaron's face. "You just checkmated yourself."

My mind races, trying to find some way out of this. But there's nothing. No escape, no plan – just the cold steel at my temple and Bigsy's ragged breaths against my neck.

"Nah," Bigsy says again with a disgusting sniff right in my ear. "She means something to you. You'll give up your power to save her."

"Says who?" Aaron asks.

I whimper at the casual way he says that. He doesn't give a fuck if I live or die. I was something to him alive but dead; who cares?

"Screw this!" Bigsy hisses, frantic now. I can tell he wasn't expecting this level of indifference from his boss.

The sudden sound of a door being kicked open catches everyone off guard. Bigsy, quick on his feet, whirls around and presses his back against the wall, pulling me with him.

Quentin strides through the door, looking like he went ten rounds with King Kong, bloodied, bruised, his clothes torn. Callum comes in hot behind him, and they both stop, hands midway, when they see the standoff in the office.

"Fuck," Bigsy growls and tightens his hold on me.

"Let her go," Quentin says, raising a shotgun and pointing it directly at Bigsy. At me. No way I can survive that if he fires.

Tears prick at my eyes, blurring my vision and causing me to whimper in fear. My heart races, and I nearly pee myself as I try to steady my trembling legs. The overwhelming sense of terror makes it hard to breathe as I fight back the urge to cry out.

"Time's up," Bigsy snarls.

The click of the trigger above my ear sounds like a clap of thunder.

I shriek as Aaron lunges forward, but Bigsy isn't fucking about. He pulls the trigger again as my life flashes before my eyes.