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When Marco returns, his directive is simple and firm. "Take us home." As the vehicle idles, Joshua joins us, but Darrel's absence is immediately noted. "Where's Darrel?" Marco's voice carries a mix of concern and command, mirroring my unease.
Joshua hesitates, his following words heavy in the air. "He's coming… He's wrapping up a call. Viktor, he was—" The incomplete sentence hangs between us, an ominous cloud.
"I'm so sorry," I whisper, realizing what this means. My hand finds Marco's, seeking solace, yet his reaction halts my breath. The fire and rage in his eyes speak volumes; more retribution will come.
Closing my eyes against the welling tears, I utter the words, a heavy acceptance of the inevitable. "Do what needs to be done." The tears that escape are for the brother I once knew, for the family torn by ambition and betrayal. A harsh truth settles in my heart now: Gerald will not survive the day.
Arriving at our new house feels like stepping into a world apart from the chaos that envelops us. The staff, ever attentive, rushes to our aid, but I find myself needing space, a moment of solitude. I make my way upstairs, the pull of a shower—a chance to wash away the day's events—irresistible.
Marco follows, and a dance of tenderness and healing unfolds between us. With each touch, each kiss, we wash away the fear and pain, replacing them with a profound and intimate connection. The water cascades over us, but it’s his touch, his presence, that truly cleanses me. "Thank you," I whisper against his skin, the words a soft acknowledgment of everything he's done.
"You don't have to thank me, baby girl," Marco responds, his voice low and full of an emotion that vibrates through me. "I'd tear the world apart to keep you safe." His raw and possessive words ignite a warmth within me, a sensation that speaks of belonging and love.
As we towel off, a hurried knock interrupts the spell. Marco quickly wraps a towel around his waist and leaves to answer the knock while I retreat to the closet, opting for something casual, yet comfortable. The urgency in his movements tells me all I need to know—the situation outside our haven hasn't paused.
"What is it?" I ask as he rushes back in to change.
"Everyone's on their way here—my brothers, father, Don Melchor, and your dad. But Gerald…he's bringing the fight to our doorstep," Marco explains, the gravity of his words sinking in.
The thought of Gerald escalating this conflict further and endangering our new beginning sends a jolt of fear through me. "He can't just storm the gates. We can't let him create mayhem here," Marco adds, his resolve clear.
I nod, understanding the stakes. Yet, when Marco insists I stay behind, a part of me rebels against the notion, even as I recognize its necessity. "I'll have our fathers and Don Melchor stay with you," he assures me, anticipating my concerns.
"But my father won't agree to stay put," I counter, my words laced with skepticism.
"He won't have a choice," Marco states, finality in his voice that brooks no argument as he heads downstairs.
Left alone, I look in the mirror and take a deep breath. There's a way to turn this situation around: convince my guardians to take me to Batangas. The sudden need to see my mother, to ensure personally that she isn't escaping, burgeons within me, and a plan slowly forms.
Chapter Twenty
Marco
I can't shake the unease settling over me as we stand together, waiting for our guests' arrival. "Pia, for your safety, you must stay inside," I remind her firmly.
"I understand," she replies too quickly, a flash of something in her eyes that sends a wave of disquiet through me. The staff busies themselves around us, a backdrop of activity that barely registers as our guests exit their vehicles.
Pia's father envelops her in a tight embrace the moment they cross the threshold, his tears genuine. I watch the scene unfold, wanting to trust in his sincerity, yet a part of me remains guarded, wary of any façade.
Gathered in the dining room, the conversation turns towards Viktor and the possibility that he may still be alive—a thought that offers me hope. "It could be a hoax, a cover. But if it's true, it changes everything," I muse aloud, the uncertainty momentarily lightened.
With Gerald's arrival imminent, the discussion shifts to whether Don Melchor and Don Angelo should stay behind. "The traffic will delay him, but not for long. We need to prepare," I state, glancing towards my brothers for support.
Don Angelo, however, is quick to voice his dissent. "He's my son. As much as it hurts, I have to be there. I can't just stay behind."
Our hands find each other's, Pia's grip tight in mine, a silent exchange of strength and solidarity. After deliberation, I concede the decision was heavy on my shoulders. "All right. You can join us. In the end, this is your battle too," I acknowledge, the resolve in my voice masking the turmoil within.
Deep down, I know I'll leave this all behind once this is over and Gerald's threat is neutralized. The unforgiving reality is that Don Angelo and Don Melchor will remain to face the aftermath of these decisions, to rebuild from the fury we're about to unleash.
Turning to my father, I express my most profound concern, ensuring it's understood without room for doubt. "Papá, please, make sure Pia is safe at all times," I request, my tone laden with meaning.
Don Antonio's eyes shift to Pia, offering her a smile that speaks volumes, though no words pass his lips. I catch a silent exchange between them, a nonverbal understanding that fills me with reassurance. Papá accepted Pia into our fold, a quiet nod to her importance to me and our future.
Gabriel breaks the contemplative silence. "Marco, how do you plan to handle Gerald?" he inquires, the strategy of our approach hanging in the balance.
I activate the screen on my pad, pulling up the tactical layout our IT team has prepared. "Here's what we've mapped out," I begin, diving into the specifics. "We've pinpointed the optimal location for the confrontation, utilizing tech that allows us precise strikes with minimal collateral damage. Drones for surveillance, EMPs to disable their vehicles without causing explosions, and non-lethal rounds to ensure no innocent bystanders are harmed." Each word is deliberate, showcasing the extent of our preparedness and the technology at our disposal.
Diego's voice adds to the conversation, his remark laced with respect and the unspoken codes of our world. "You're handling this operation with the precision of a true leader, Marco. It's impressive." His acknowledgment, coming from one who's seen much and led equally, swells a sense of pride within me.
