Faith

part seven

That night, Fort sat alone in his grand, dimly lit office, the flicker of a fireplace casting shadows across the opulent space. His eyes were fixed on the photographs spread out across his polished mahogany desk-images of Alex, captured at various points before his supposed disappearance. As one of his men stood nearby, reciting the background information Fort had requested, the prime minister barely heard him, already immersed in his own dark thoughts.

Fort had always been a man of quiet, calculated power, an alpha whose influence stretched far beyond political spheres. He was known for his ruthlessness, a man who could crush enemies with a mere word or gesture, and he relished the reputation. The affront Leo had dared to throw at him earlier that evening, accusing him of inaction, gnawed at him like a splinter under the skin. It wasn't the first time his grandson had shown such defiance, but this time, it was personal. Eian's disappearance was not just a matter of family-it was a matter of pride.

George, Leo's father, had once been a man Fort respected, mostly for the joy he brought to his daughter's life. But now, Fort saw him differently. George was faltering, losing control of his children and his grip on the family. One child missing, the other slipping away into reckless anger-it was pathetic. And Fort, though he rarely admitted to caring about anything outside his own ambition, found his instincts on high alert. His daughter's grief was unbearable to watch; Eian meant everything to her, and her absence had hollowed out what was left of her happiness. Fort would not stand by while this family, his legacy, disintegrated.

His connections in the underworld ran deep, just like any man of real power. The mafia, international crime syndicates-they were all business partners in one way or another. The criminal world was merely another facet of his empire. He knew Soulless well, even had a score to settle with them after his forces intercepted a shipment of their weapons a few years back. If Alex was indeed alive and tangled up with Soulless, as Leo suspected, then it was time to deal with it personally.

Fort leaned back in his chair, his gaze sharp as ever as he spoke to the man standing in front of him. "Arrange a meeting at the Black Dog Bar. Let them know I'd like a word with Wayne," he ordered, his voice low and unhurried.

Wayne was no ordinary contact. He was a fixer, a man who operated between the lines of legality and chaos, with connections that stretched into every dark corner. Whether it was gangs, trafficking networks, or hired assassins, Wayne knew how to get to the right people. And right now, Fort needed the very best.

Later that evening, under the cold blue lights of the VIP area at Black Dog, Wayne sat across from the prime minister. They had met before, several times, but this occasion felt different. Fort's demeanor was icier than usual, his gaze hard, unwavering. Wayne could feel the weight of the request coming.

"You know everyone worth knowing in the underworld," Fort began, his tone casual but laced with intent. "I need the best hired gun."

Wayne raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He already knew who the best was. "Tya's the one you want," he replied confidently. "I'll make the calls, find a place and time. But she's in demand. You know how these things work."

Fort gave a slow, approving nod, his mind already racing ahead to the next steps. If Leo was right, if this so-called Alex really was alive and connected to Soulless, it wouldn't matter for long. Not once Fort set his sights on him. He would handle this in the only way he knew how-with swift, absolute finality. Eian would be found, and anyone who stood in his way would be eliminated.

In Fort's world, the rules were simple: win or be crushed.

Tya leaned back in the dim corner of the bar, the remnants of her latest job still lingering in her mind. The cold air from the cracked window barely registered against her skin as her phone buzzed on the table. Without glancing at the screen, she answered with her usual, emotionless drawl, "What?"