Bloodbound: The Alliance
Chapter 66 - 68

Chapter 66: Chapter 68

Akio POV

"I would never!" I refute, giving rise to an emotion too strong to deny. "You talk of matters you don’t know."

"I know more than you think," he counters. "You’re loyal to Botan. Even a blind man can see that. But Haru’s organization has thrived under the stewardship of Botan. Any threat to him is a threat to Haru but not all dangers are weapons and war."

My eyes cut back into him but I say nothing.

"I suspected... but with what you just said confirms what I didn’t want to believe." The back of his head drops against the seat with his face inclined, his back slightly arching as a breath claws through him. "This isn’t about betraying Botan. It’s about exposing his only vulnerability. Haru knows about her I’m sure but—but," he stammers, stumbling over his pain. "I’m also sure he doesn’t know how bad or how deep things are—which is the only reason Haru hasn’t had her killed yet."

The bastard’s body may be broken, but his mind certainly isn’t.

In principle, it’s betrayal, and he won’t see it any other way. But unlike Botan, I’m thinking beyond the now—I’m thinking about his survival. I don’t like him, but he is my blood and to me, that’s a sacred oath. I’ve been the one cleaning up after the chaos of every misguided whim, patching the cracks that his volatile impulses have left behind. But there will come a day when the damage is too great, too permanent for me to clean, to bargain, or to fix.

Defying him outright is unthinkable. And it would destroy us all if I put Avara in any kind of life-threatening jeopardy. Informing Haru is out of the question; I’m no snitch. I need to maneuver this delicately, a quiet rebellion of necessity. The only path forward is to make Botan sever ties himself—to convince him, somehow, that cutting this thread is his idea. It’s the only way to save him from himself.

"You can’t kill her," Simon utters, wincing as his head lolls to the side to glower back at me. "She’s the mayor’s daughter."

"Governor’s," I correct. "You missed a lot," I add quickly. "And we have had much more powerful women and men killed for far less. What’s going to happen is—"

My phone buzzes and my words wither as I already know who is at the other end of the line. I throw a curse before I shift to slip out my phone with only one hand on the wheel. I take a breath before I answer.

"Botan?"

"I’m here, but I don’t see your car?"

Fortunately, he hasn’t questioned others about my absence.

"I ran out to take care of something real quick."

"Leave it," he commands in a tone that warns against any protest. "I need you here. Now."

"I’ll turn back now," I concede

"Gianni’s associates contacted me," he includes, his voice stern but sounding impressed. "Well done on salvaging the deal."

He drops the call, and the phone falls limply to my lap.

Simon’s eyes dart to the phone, then back at me with quiet alarm. "What? What?" he snaps with panic mounting in his voice.

"A change of plans. Turns out I won’t be playing underworld Uber today. I’m needed."

"Needed?" Simon scoffs, his features twitching from every minor bump in the road that jostles his body. "You always do his bidding like his pet?"

A humored smile steals across my face. "That’s a poor attempt to provoke me. Your wit is usually a lot sharper than that, but I understand if..." I trail off so my eyes can give a gesture at his battered self. "Circumstances have dulled it."

"That’s because I wasn’t trying to provoke you," he says, his voice shaky despite his best effort to steady it. Even now, he clings to a facade of strength, a fraying thread of defiance. "I know you better than you think," he continues, his words punctuated by a sharp intake of breath, his body betraying the pain he tries to suppress. "I know that Haru holds sway over the Yakuza clans, power that Botan uses to keep control. You don’t serve him so faithfully out of obligation alone."

"Of course I don’t," I reply, my tone easy but unyielding. "For all his flaws, Botan is a man of respect. But even respect doesn’t buy my loyalty." I tilt my head, a smirk tugging at the corners of my lips. "Not everyone shares my virtues. After all, your own daughter was your blood, and look where your loyalty to her led."

For the briefest moment, shock flickers across his face, burning through the mask of pain. His glare, sharp and desperate. "My daughter was my world," he mutters, his voice thick with anguish. The defiance in his tone is at war with the agony radiating from his body.

"And yet," I press on, my voice low and deliberate, each word meant to sink in like the blade of a dagger, "when it mattered most, you couldn’t put her first. You couldn’t walk away from the case. Your sense of justice outweighed your love for her, your loyalty to your own blood."

Simon’s hand flies up, the movement quick and full of intent, but his pain seizes him mid-motion. A guttural groan escapes his lips as his arm falters, collapsing back against his bloodied chest. His fingers clutch instinctively at his most grievous wound, his entire body trembling as amusement lures my lips into a smile.

The rest of the drive unravels in a taut silence. With Simon slumped in the passenger seat, his face turned away, I can’t tell if his quiet is defiance or if the pain has finally forced him under. The sun is dipping low as we approach the outskirts of a town—a patchwork of rising scaffolds and freshly paved streets, humming with construction and the chatter of busy townsfolk.

Simon stirs, his head lifting sluggishly. His gaze slides to the window, but there’s no curiosity in the way his eyes follow the bustling scene outside. He’s plotting. I can feel it in the way his shoulders tighten, the way his hand inches toward his lap as if testing the boundaries of his own restraint.

"I can see you thinking," I say, my voice composed but sharp enough to cut through his haze. "You’re calculating, aren’t you? Running scenarios through that battered head of yours. All these people around, figuring I wouldn’t risk chasing you for fear of causing a scene."

Simon turns his head, his gaze locking with mine—heavy and assessing.

"Tell me," I continue, a faint smirk pulling at my lips. "What’s stopping you from bolting? Imagine the headlines: Kidnapped Retired Detective Escapes. The six o’clock news would eat it up."

I roll the car to a stop in front of the county seat, a stately, weathered building standing sentinel at the heart of the town. Simon’s confidence falters as he takes in the scene, his expression tightening.

I don’t even bother coming out of the car. I take out my phone to make one call. And not that long after, the sheriff of the town marches over. Simon hurls a glance, aghast at how swiftly he comes to my summons.

Simon’s eyes snap back to me, disbelief and a flicker of panic flashing across his bloodied face. "You’ve got the sheriff on your payroll?"

I let the moment hang in the air before responding, my tone deliberately taunting. "Sheriff Douglas is more than that. He’s a friend. He never misses Alden’s annual end-of-year party. Him, and a long list of other politicians and law enforcement officials."

The sheriff reaches my side of the car, his boots crunching against the gravel. I roll down the window and give him a single, clipped instruction. He nods curtly, his face impassive, and rounds the car to Simon’s door.

"Out," the sheriff says, his voice devoid of warmth. He jerks his head in a no-nonsense gesture.

Simon’s throat works in a hard swallow. His hand hovers over the door handle for a beat before he pushes it open and spills out of the car. He braces himself on shaky legs, his voice barely more than a rasp. "You’d all better stay... away from Avara."

"Funny," I reply, my tone flat, unamused. "For once, we want the same thing."