Bloodbound: The Alliance
Chapter 123 - 125

Chapter 123: Chapter 125

Avara POV

" Silas, get your sister. Now!"

Instincts hurls me back to my room, locking the door behind me. I don’t know what day zero is, but it can’t be anything good. I scramble for the necklace Botan gave me, layered and weighty as I work to get it around my neck. I flinch when the pounding begins. It’s more than urgency but vicious knocks that damage the integrity of the door. Just a few more blows from being demolished—rattling the hinges.

"Avara, open this damn door—please."

Once I get it on, I start working fast to button my pastel top to the high neck collar. The thunderous bangs worsen as it sounds like he’s ramming himself at the door. A scream escapes me when one last charge makes the door burst open, the wooden slab haphazardly crooked as he enters with raised hands in futile placation.

"I’m sorry, I really am, but it’s an emergency. We have to go."

"Where?" I demand.

"Far."

I shake my head wordlessly as he closes the distance between us with a remorseful expression. He latches onto me, and I scream again as it rips out my throat. Silas yanks me to him, swiveling me around so my back hits his chest and locks me in a chokehold. I writhe against him, any semblance of sense and strategy drowns beneath a torrent of panic. With my breaths thinning and my vision waning, a glimmer of clarity cuts through enough to know that he’s trying to render me unconscious. Tears leak as I sag against him, my top riding up to expose my stomach.

Muffled words drifting, joining me in the oblivion. "I’m sorry."

Alden POV

"On route," Luciano snaps, then disassembles the phone to chuck the parts on the entrance table. "Gaza was more than happy to help a friend."

"Friend my ass—he knows if I’m comprised so his Mediterranean network."

Luciano snorts and glances up, then his eyes swell with shock. My eyes fly up to see Silas carrying an unconscious Avara in his arms, bridal style. Her dark tresses swishing wildly as he surges down the steps with glassy, red-rimmed eyes like’s close to erupting into tears.

"What the hell did you do?"

Silas’s grief warps into rage as tears spill from his eyes, chest heaving like he’s about to implode. "What does it look like I did? She was fighting me—I had to do what I did."

Luciano shakes his head sorrowfully. "She won’t forget this."

"She will forgive it." Silas’s voice fractures. "Despair gripping desperately onto threadbare hope. "It’s Avara, she will forgive us."

"I think we’ve pushed her too far," Luciano says bluntly, glaring at us both. "Abused her nature long enough."

"What happened?" Silas says to steer the topic elsewhere. "What triggered the day zero protocol?"

I walk back to the front door to peer out of the long glass pane. "We’ve been compromised."

"Aside from the obvious," Silas remarks.

"I have a mole in most intelligence agencies, and one of them picked up chatter about a covert operation. A CIA strike team."

"Bull shit, CIA can’t operate domestically."

I look back at him in the way that lowers his gaze. "You want to tell them that?"

Not long, but not too soon enough. Four sleek, black vehicles glide to a stop in front of the house. Doors click open in unison. Two men step out from the middle car—both Latin, both inked from knuckles to collarbone, their presence radiating authority and danger in equal measure.

The boys tense as we’re guided toward the same vehicle. No guns are drawn, but the command is clear.

One of the men inclines his head, his voice smooth yet firm. "Jefe sends his regards and offers you sanctuary at his villa in Colombia."

Inside, Silas cradles his sister in his lap, his fingers threading through her hair as he tucks her face into the crook of his neck with her body limp against him. Her legs drape over Luciano, whose hand strokes her shin in a restless, nervous rhythm.

I glance at the man standing outside. "Listo cuando tú lo estés." My Spanish is rough, the accent is butchered, but understandable enough to earn me a smirk.

He shuts the passenger door with a decisive thud, then throws up a quick signal to his crew before slipping into the car behind us. The convoy rumbles to life, and just like that, we’re moving.

Avara POV

I almost don’t want to wake up... a calm haze over my consciousness, lulling me in a rare moment of peace. I savour the soothing strokes through my hair and the warmth of the solid chest beneath me. Then awareness crashes back, sharp and sudden. My legs are draped over Luciano, his expression more fearful than I have ever seen him as he watches me stir. My breath catches as I shift, squinting up at Silas. His arms tighten around me—not crushing, but firm, a silent warning not to fight.

"Avara... easy," he murmurs, his voice a tether between us. "We’re going somewhere safe."

Safe. The word is meaningless when I’m boxed in on all sides—Silas at my back, Luciano at my flank, my father sitting up front beside the tattooed driver whose bald head is covered in menacing marks. I press my palms against Silas’s chest, pushing lightly.

"Let me go," I say, quiet but stern. "It’s not like I can escape. And I’m not spending the entire ride on your lap."

He exhales through his nose, then grips my waist to adjust me. The second his hands settle, I smack them away. He responds instantly, pinning his own hands to the surface of the seat behind him.

Wordlessly, I move, sliding off his lap to the middle seat, wedged between them.

"I’m sorry," Silas murmurs, worn out by something raw.

I liberate a breath, staring ahead. "... I know."

The road stretches endlessly ahead, leading us further from civilization and any trace of public or private airports. That much is expected. Instead, in the distance, a private airfield emerges. The sight is familiar—just like when Botan took me to France. The world’s most wanted don’t exactly stand in line for boarding passes.

A black private jet looms on the horizon, sleek and waiting. But before we can reach it—

BLAM!

An SUV slams into our car with bone-crushing force. The impact is instant, catastrophic. Metal screams, glass explodes, and the world turns weightless for a sickening moment before gravity drags us down. The vehicle flips, slamming me against the roof, my body snapping into unnatural angles. Pain erupts, then darkness.

Somewhere in the abyss, consciousness stirs. A distant rumble trembles through my skull—muffled explosions, the sharp percussion of gunfire. My breath rattles in my chest as awareness crawls back in jagged pieces.

I push up, my palms slick against shattered glass, the roof of the overturned car pressing against my spine. Every nerve in my body is a siren of pain. A deep gash on the side of my head sends warm blood trickling down my temple. My ribs throb with a pain so sharp I can barely breathe.

Gritting my teeth, I force myself to move. I drag myself toward the shattered window, the jagged edges biting into my hands as I pull through. Outside, the world is chaos. The air is thick with smoke and the acrid scent of burning fuel.

Tattooed combatants engaging against men clad in black tactical gear. The crack of gunfire splitting the air as bodies drop. I suck in a breath, tasting blood and adrenaline.

"Target acquired, I found her."

A man latches onto me and panic douses the pain as I writhe against him, my arms flailing as I spot a switchblade strapped to his cargo pants. I yank it out and lift it to plunge it into his thigh---a squirt of blood. With a guttural groan, he tosses me to the ground and the impact slams back into me. I heave my body by my elbows, my vision splintering as I search for any inklings of my brothers. A scream escapes me as a bigger man hauls me to my feet in an effortless pull, hurling me over his shoulder.

"Relax, Miss Du Pont. We’re not here for you."

I stop thrashing over the man’s shoulder and that’s when he deigns to release me. I stumble slightly when I reunite with the ground. He tries to steady me, and I jerk out of his grasp. Director Katherine stands before an open blacked out van that’s protected by its own contingency. The cacophony of the gun battle, still resounding around us. She pivots and her manicured hand gestures to the inside. Surrounded by heavily armed men with rifles, it’s not like I have much a choice. With a hand just below my midsection, I lower my head as I hoist myself inside.

An interior retrofitted for recon with live surveillance feeds of the entire area—most of them from deployed drones. The fight is just about done with numbers to overwhelm the escort my father enlisted to spirit us away. I lurch to the centre console when I see my brothers hemmed in by an arch of these black-clad commandos. The other screen depicts my father fleeing to the private jet... abandoning his own sons. Clutching onto a duffel bag more sacred than his children. He reaches the staircase only to be brought to a jarring halt when the barrel of a rifle is leveled at his chest.

"They’re fate is in your hands."

I turn around slowly to glare back at her, a tremor of dread quaking my bones. "You mean for us to die here or spend the rest of our lives in prison?"

She grins back at me wickedly like she knows something I don’t, and that amuses her. "I am under strict instructions. Their fate is in your hands."

One question seizes my mind—how—how did they know how to find us? My hand flies to my chest, teasing the fabric of my top that conceals the necklace, feeling its outline beneath my fingers.

"You knew where we were going?"

Her smile slips into solemnity, the aloof mask sealing back into place. "I knew where you were. From there we saw pod footage of the convoy—facial recognition picked up the drivers. Members of the Son of the Sun cartel. From there, it was obvious what was happening. Your father was trying to get you all out of the country." Her eyes make a cruelly pointed gesture at the screen. "That was until his own sovereignty was threatened and then only his life mattered. This location was the closest private airfield from the starting point. It was an easy gamble."

"Following me wasn’t." My eyes flick back at her as I barely have to think it over. "You work for Botan."

"Work with," she corrects, a sharp shift in her tone, a fierce edge to her expression. "It’s an arrangement we have. His empire remains in the shadows so long as I get high-profile targets. Vellum, for instance, critical intelligence about a criminal conspiracy. Mr Kiyosaki was convinced that if anyone could find it—it would be only you, so he served you to us on a silver platter."

My eyes flare at her words.

"You looked as if he betrayed you? He didn’t," she says with cold detachment like brokering a business deal—never mind that this maneuver held mine and my family’s life in the balance. "It was a calculated move that benefits all sides. He made me swear to let you choose what happens to your family."

I spin back around to watch the screen. My brothers are forced to lay down their weapons as they drop to their knees with their hands planted behind their heads in a prisoner’s stance. The men in front of them keep their weapons trained on them, but they don’t move. It’s like they’re awaiting orders.

"My brothers," I breathe.

Katherine steps closer. "We could take them into custody. Offer them a deal. They testify against all the criminal organizations in exchange for their freedom. It’s the best we can do."

"You’re going to have to do better." I swivel to face her, chaining her to my challenge. "Testifying is a death sentence. I know firsthand how these people deal with snitches and loose ends. I won’t allow my brothers to become a liability. So this is what’s going to happen. You’re going to release them with a few of the cartel members—just so it doesn’t look too suspicious. We’ll say your guns jammed or something—I don’t care. But they escape, along with the bag that our father was holding onto dear life for."

"And who are you for me to be taking orders from?"

"Because your boss does what I tell him to."

She cracks a smile and concedes a nod. "What about your father?"

I shrug dismissively. "He went ahead and tried to save himself. So I’ll leave it to him to get himself out of his men... he’s all yours." I free a shuddering breath, clamping my eyes shut before I look up at her again, unbothered by the tears that fall. "What about me? I know you likely have orders to take me to him."

She nods grimly. "That is the mandate. But it could be that... during the attack. When your brothers fled," she says, giving me a meaningful look. "That you went with them and you all escaped."

My brows collide at her suggestion to... cover me.

"Look, I know all too well the thrall of powerful men. And from what I’ve learned, Botan Kiyosaki adores you. But it doesn’t change his nature and his world that is a lot darker and bloodier than what your father was a part of. Being with Botan means being tethered to the best of what life has to offer and the worst that this world has."

My eyes flickered to the metallic floor of the van. "So, what are you saying, director?"

"For the first time in a long time. I’m giving what everyone else has denied you. A choice, Miss Du Pont."