By Corruption I Fall

Chapter Sixty-Three

Oryon

I stood by the window, the city sprawled out beneath me like a living, breathing entity, its lights flickering weakly against the encroaching darkness.

Xiomara's soft, rhythmic breathing filled the room, a lullaby to the chaos that twisted inside me. I had held her until sleep finally claimed her, her body trembling against mine, fighting the exhaustion that weighed her down. Now, in the quiet solitude of the night, with her warmth fading from my arms, the dread gnawed at me, an ever-present shadow creeping into the corners of my mind.

The glass beneath my hand was cold, grounding me in the reality that loomed ahead—an uncertain reality where every step could be the one that tore it all apart.

I stared out into the abyss, feeling the weight of a thousand unspoken fears pressing against my chest. I wanted to stay, to hold her until the morning light chased away the darkness, but I knew that was a luxury I couldn't afford. There was work to be done, a promise to keep, and I couldn't let anything distract me—not even the fear that something was terribly wrong with her.

The knock at the door was soft, almost hesitant, but it pulled me from my thoughts like a lifeline. Wren stood in the doorway, his silhouette a familiar presence in the dim light. His expression was as grim as I felt, eyes shadowed with the same weight that pressed on me. "We're ready," he said, his voice low, respectful of the stillness that had settled over the room. "Yiannis has some updates. We're meeting in the war room."

I nodded, my gaze lingering on Xiomara for a moment longer. She looked so peaceful, so fragile in sleep, her dark hair spread out on the pillow like a halo. My chest tightened with a pain I couldn't name, a deep, hollow ache that threatened to consume me. I knew this could be the last time I saw her like this—the last time I held her, the last time I whispered her name in the quiet dark. And the thought twisted inside me like a knife, cold and unyielding. But I had to go. I had no choice.

I leaned down, brushing a kiss against her forehead, lingering there as if I could imprint the moment into my memory, as if I could take a piece of her with me into the night.

"S'agapo, Xiomara. Tha epistrepso." The words were a promise, a vow that I wasn't sure I could keep, but I had to believe in them. She murmured something in her sleep, her brow furrowing as if she sensed my departure, and it took everything in me to pull away, to leave her lying there, alone in that bed, while I walked into the dark, knowing it might be for the last time.

The air in the hallway was heavy, thick with the tension of what was to come. Every step I took felt like a march toward something inevitable, something I couldn't escape. My men were already gathered in the war room, their faces hard, eyes sharp with focus. The weight of what we were about to do hung over us like a shroud, wrapping around us, binding us to a mission that felt as much about survival as it was about redemption.

Yiannis was bent over his laptop, the screen casting a harsh, cold light over his features. He looked up when I entered, his eyes gleaming with a mix of triumph and urgency. "We've got him," he said, his voice low, charged with the satisfaction of a job well done. "Agustín's accounts are frozen. The bastard won't be able to move a single euro without us knowing."

A cold, sharp smile tugged at the corners of my mouth, but it was fleeting, disappearing as quickly as it came. "How?"

"I found a way in through a shell company he uses in the Caymans," Yiannis explained, his fingers drumming absently on the table, as if the energy of the night was too much to contain. "Once I had access to that, it was a matter of pulling the right threads. His accounts are locked down tight, and any attempts to move funds will trigger alerts straight to us."