Chapter 155: Dangerous Plan

Felix had convinced himself, after everything, that his small apartment was safe, cheap, tucked away in a part of the city nobody with real money bothered looking at twice.

He’d fallen asleep on the thin mattress with that thought still comforting him.

He woke to a hand clamped tightly around his arm.

"Ah!" He scrambled backward instinctively, his back hitting the wall, eyes flying open in the dark.

A shape loomed over him, and before he could draw breath to scream, another hand pressed firmly against the mattress beside his head, pinning him in place.

"Shhh," a familiar voice said. "It’s me."

Felix’s heart slammed against his ribs. "Y-you... Alben? What are you doing here?"

Alben pulled him upright by the shoulder, settling him against the wall like he was handling something fragile rather than someone he’d just terrified half to death.

"We need to talk. Salvatore is not at the mansion. I don’t have access there now, so I don’t know what happened. What do you think? That you’ll be on his side instead of mine? I know you just visited him."

Felix’s hands trembled where they rested on his knees. "Salvatore will kill me. I can’t side with him even if I want to."

"So?"

"Why don’t you do it yourself, since you’re close to him?"

Alben’s mouth twisted, something bitter flickering across his face. "Salvatore suspects me now. He is very careful with me. I just don’t want to move too fast. You know, I never wanted to destroy Salvatore. I respect him. I love him."

He paused, his jaw tightening. "But he is really a pain in the ass sometimes. I just need the money, and he makes everything hard for me."

Felix chose his words carefully, aware of how close the man’s hand still hovered near his throat. "I don’t want to be involved. He tried to kill me. I tried to gain his trust again, but it’s impossible. I can’t help."

Alben laughed, low and humorless. "Oh, come on. It’s not the end of the world. Anyway, I won’t ask too much of you this time. You know you have a strong connection. Macron is giving you a chance to gain your own wealth."

Felix felt the blood drain from his face. "What? I don’t want to die."

"No, no need to die," Alben said quickly, waving a hand as though the very idea was absurd. "I’m not even on his side. But he can help me remove the little chicken. I won’t hurt Salvatore. I’ll help him be on my side once Macron gets what he wants."

"Why?" Felix asked, genuinely bewildered now. "Why do you need all of this? Macron will kill you."

"I have far more people and weapons than everyone else in this country," Alben said, leaning back slightly, something smug settling into his expression. "I have connections. It would be easy for me if I wanted to kill one of them. But I don’t want to kill anyone. It’s not fun."

"What do you want from me?"

"Get Milo with you," Alben said. "Take him out, and I’ll do the rest. Once Salvatore is out of the mansion with the guards to save the little chicken, Macron will come into the mansion. It’s easy."

Felix’s stomach twisted. "What will happen to Salvatore?"

"I’ve told you. I’ll bring Salvatore onto my side. Once Milo dies, I can claim the Hartley assets. I’ll have enough power to save him."

"He will kill you," Felix said.

"As long as he doesn’t know I’m on Macron’s side, it’s not a problem," Alben said, entirely unbothered. "I’ll always help him. I just need to get the Hartley assets under my name. That’s all."

"I don’t believe it," Felix said, shaking his head slowly. "Just for money, you’d trade your loyalty."

"I’m loyal to Salvatore," Alben snapped, some real edge finally entering his voice. "If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t think twice about killing him."

"You can’t," Felix said, pausing. "Even if you have people and weapons, you can’t make people loyal to you. You think you can kill him, but it’ll never happen."

Alben’s laugh this time was colder. His hand moved fast, shooting out and closing around Felix’s throat, slamming him back against the wall.

"Oh, that’s so sweet," he said, his voice dropping almost gentle even as his grip tightened. "But I hate it when people underestimate my ability."

Felix gasped, clawing weakly at the fingers cutting off his air. "Nnghh!"

Alben held on a moment longer, watching him struggle, before finally releasing him. Felix slumped forward, coughing violently, one hand pressed to his bruised throat.

"Be careful with your words," Alben said, straightening his clothes.

"Now, tell me. Do you want to be part of this and gain your wealth and freedom, or do you want to stay with this miserable life? Do you want to hide all your life? You know... nobody will help you."

Felix coughed again, trembling, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes though he refused to let them fall. He would rather die than hurt Salvatore... that much he knew.

But the rest of it, the years stretching ahead of him with no money, no safety, only fear of every shadow, weighed on him just as heavily.

"Give me—" he started weakly.

"No. Give me an answer right now," Alben said. "Because I don’t have much time."

Felix nodded, defeated, his voice barely above a whisper. "I’ll... try my best to take Milo out. But I want to meet Macron. I don’t want to make an empty deal."

Alben smiled, satisfied. "Well, I don’t know where he is. But you’ll know once you take Milo out with you, because they’ll bring the boy to meet Macron."

"How can you do this without meeting him yourself?"

"I don’t care, as I told you," Alben said. "I just need the boy to die."

"You’ll make Salvatore suffer," Felix said quietly.

"Once I gain my assets, I’ll help him get back on his feet again."

"You’re really a bastard."

"You need to think rationally when it comes to money," Alben said, entirely unbothered by the insult. "Nobody will help you if you’re down. You need to grab as much as you can once you have the chance."

Felix stared at him, something cold settling deep in his chest. "What about Nero?"

Alben tilted his head. "Who? You mean Wolfy?"

"What?"

"Nero, or Michael Hartley, is dead," Alben said simply. "The one with me is Wolfy now."

Felix’s blood ran cold. "You’re crazy!"

Alben’s expression shifted into something possessive, almost tender. "He’ll always be mine," he said. "I’ll never let him go."

He stood then, brushing off his sleeves, looking down at Felix still slumped against the wall, his throat bruised, his breath still ragged.

"You have three days," Alben said. "Get Milo out. Or I’ll assume you’ve chosen the miserable life instead... and trust me, that choice comes with consequences too."

He crossed to the window, the same way he’d come in, and slipped out into the dark without another word, leaving Felix alone in the silence of his small apartment, shaking.

He thought of Salvatore, the man who had once trusted him completely, whom he’d betrayed once already and had spent so much time trying to earn that trust back.

He thought of Milo, the one he had almost killed because of his jealousy. He knew it would benefit him if Milo died. But... he couldn’t bear the thought of Salvatore’s suffering.

And he thought of himself, trembling in the dark, with nowhere left to run and no one left to call for help.

"I’m sorry, Sal... Please..."

***

In the hotel.

Salvatore woke up. His eyes opened the instant sunlight touched the curtains, his body alert before his mind had even fully caught up.

Beside him, Milo remained curled against his side, breathing slow and even, one arm tucked beneath the pillow. On the other side of the bed, Roderick was already stirring, blinking blearily up at the ceiling, the rope still tugging faintly at his wrist whenever he shifted.

Roderick sat up carefully, trying not to jostle the mattress too much, and reached over instinctively to nudge Milo awake, muttering something about needing to reclaim the use of both his arms before breakfast.

"Sshhh," Salvatore said immediately, catching his wrist before he could get close. "Let him sleep a bit more."

Roderick shot him a flat, unimpressed look. "I can’t sleep anymore. In case you forgot, I’m literally attached to him."

"Then lie still," Salvatore said, settling back against the pillow, one arm draped protectively over Milo’s shoulder.

"Lie still," Roderick repeated under his breath, shaking his head. He glanced down at the thin black rope connecting his wrist to Milo’s, still faintly bewildered by the entire situation, then up at the ceiling again, resigning himself to another stretch of forced stillness.

A few minutes passed in relative quiet, Salvatore’s eyes drifting shut again, clearly intending to doze a while longer despite his usual habit of rising early.

Roderick, however, grew steadily more restless, his free hand drumming lightly against his stomach, his eyes flicking toward the window, the clock, the ceiling, anywhere that wasn’t the two people sharing the bed with him.

Eventually, he cleared his throat. "Sal."

"Mm."

"I need coffee."

"Then get coffee."

"I can’t get up," Roderick said, lifting his tethered wrist pointedly. "Unless you want me dragging your little chicken across the room."