Reign of Lies

REIGN

“No, no, no. Please have mercy on me, Ms. Argent.” God, he was loud.

The pathetic little vermin was on his knees in front of me, blubbering so uncontrollably that I was beginning to worry he might choke on his own spit before I had the chance to kill him. His entire body trembled with each desperate breath, and the tears streaming down his face had mixed with the blood trickling from his split lip. Every few seconds, he glanced at the gun in my hand before looking up at me again, apparently hoping he’d find some trace of sympathy if he stared long enough.

Unfortunately for him, I was fresh out of that particular emotion.

“Please,” he whimpered, bowing his head. “Please. I’ll pay everything back. In full. I swear.”

He shuffled closer on his knees, scraping them against the rough concrete as though closing the distance between us might somehow improve his chances of survival. I wasn’t particularly proud of how much I enjoyed watching him squirm, but I wasn’t ashamed of it either. There were far worse things a person could take pleasure in, and the man kneeling before me had made an entire business out of them.

The warehouse smelled of damp concrete, rusting metal, and the unmistakable coppery scent of blood. I tightened my grip on the gun, adjusting its weight comfortably in my palm. He noticed the movement immediately. His gaze dropped to my hand, and for a moment, his pleading expression gave way to something closer to genuine terror. Then he looked back at my face, searching for an indication that I might be reconsidering.

He mistook my silence for consideration, which was unfortunate for him. People often did.

“I can have the money by the end of the week. I just need—”

“Do you ever stop talking?”

I raised the gun until the barrel rested neatly between his eyes. His gaze followed it upward, and I watched the muscles in his throat contract as he swallowed. Normally, I wouldn’t have bothered coming here myself. Collecting debts wasn’t exactly how I preferred to spend my evenings, particularly when I had an entire criminal organisation to drag out of the mess my father had left behind.

Our collection process was straightforward enough. A man missed one payment, he received a warning. Two, someone paid him a visit to remind him of his obligations. Three meant I’d exhausted whatever patience I was willing to extend.

This was his third.

Under ordinary circumstances, I’d have sent Axel and a couple of men to handle the situation while I occupied myself with something more productive. There was nothing particularly satisfying about chasing money from people who’d already demonstrated they couldn’t be trusted to repay it.

But the money wasn’t why he was going to die.

My father had apparently decided that background checks were unnecessary when choosing who to lend money to. Whether that was arrogance, carelessness, or simply Xavier Argent not giving a fuck what monsters did with his money, I couldn’t say. Knowing my father, it was probably a combination of all three.

I’d spent the better part of my morning going through the man’s file, which had been buried beneath an impressive amount of paperwork that nobody in my father’s administration had apparently bothered to examine properly. Unpaid debts, suspicious transactions, bribery, and falsified records. Nothing particularly interesting by my standards, and certainly nothing I hadn’t encountered before.

Then I’d come across a series of transactions that didn’t quite fit with the rest.

At first glance, they looked like ordinary business expenses, neatly recorded among shipping fees and payments to various intermediaries. It was only when I started following the money that the details became vague. The names attached to those payments led me to documents and records that made it abundantly clear what kind of operation my father had been financing, whether knowingly or otherwise.

The bastard had been trafficking little boys. That had made his fate rather easy.

It had been exactly seven days since my father died, and somehow, the old man had still managed to leave me work. Typical Xavier. Apparently, death wasn’t enough to stop him from inconveniencing me.

I’d known for years that my father was an arrogant, power-hungry monster with questionable judgement, but the past week had given me a much clearer understanding of just how spectacularly incompetent he could be when left to his own devices.

The man had spent his entire life chasing power, yet he’d been remarkably careless about protecting the power he already possessed. He wanted influence, recognition, and the sort of reputation that made people lower their voices when his name was mentioned. Unfortunately, his desperation to acquire those things made him ridiculously easy to manipulate. All anyone had to do was flatter his ego, promise him a profitable arrangement, or convince him that their involvement would strengthen his position, and he’d practically hand them the keys to the kingdom.

For someone who’d spent decades building a criminal empire, my father had possessed an astonishing inability to recognise when someone was taking advantage of him.

And then there was Theron.

My father’s business partner had been helping himself to considerably more than his fair share, hiding his activities behind agreements that were so blatantly one-sided I was genuinely beginning to question whether father had ever bothered reading anything before signing it. The deeper I dug into their dealings, the more obvious it became that Theron had been exploiting my father’s weaknesses for years.

I was planning to pay him a visit soon.

Unlike the miserable creature kneeling before me, Theron wasn’t someone I intended to dispose of quickly. There was a certain satisfaction to be found in taking apart everything a man had spent years building, particularly when he’d grown so comfortable with his position that he no longer believed anyone could touch him. I wanted him to understand exactly what he’d done, what he took from me, watch the confidence drain from his face when he realised how thoroughly he’d underestimated me, and then make him regret every single decision that had led him there.

I was rather looking forward to it, actually.

Unfortunately, dismantling an organisation required a little more patience than simply putting bullets into everyone who annoyed me. I needed to establish exactly who was loyal, who was stealing, and who had been quietly waiting for an opportunity to take advantage of the change in leadership.

There were far too many little fish swimming around in my father’s pond, helping themselves to whatever they could get their hands on. I’d deal with them first, clear out the parasites, and make sure the people who remained understood precisely who they answered to.

Then I could turn my attention to the sharks.

“Ms. Argent—”

I pulled the trigger.

The gunshot cracked through the warehouse, loud enough to drown out the rattling ventilation fan and send a sharp echo bouncing between the concrete walls. His head jerked backward, and his body followed a second later, collapsing onto the floor with a heavy, graceless thud.

At least the begging had stopped.

“So noisy,” I muttered, rolling my eyes.

I lowered the gun and glanced over my shoulder at Axel, who’d been standing a few feet behind me throughout the entire ordeal. His expression remained professionally neutral, although his gaze lingered on the body for a moment before returning to me.

I nodded toward the mess on the floor, and he acknowledged the instruction with a small inclination of his head before motioning for the two men waiting near the entrance to assist him. They approached without a word, one retrieving the necessary supplies while the other crouched beside the body to begin the unpleasant business of cleaning up after me.

I had no intention of supervising.

Sliding the gun back into its holster, I turned toward the warehouse doors, the heels of my boots clicking against the concrete as I made my way outside. The heavy metal door groaned when I pushed it open, and a welcome rush of fresh air brushed against my face, carrying with it the distant sounds of traffic and the ordinary bustle of a city that had absolutely no idea what had just taken place behind those walls.

I drew in a slow breath, grateful to be rid of the suffocating smell inside.

One problem dealt with, and only about a hundred more waiting for me back at the office.

My father really was the gift that kept on giving.

I watched it curl upward, gradually disappearing into the night, and wondered whether there would ever come a day when I could finish dealing with one problem without discovering another three waiting for my attention.

And then there were my father’s men.

I’d noticed the hostility almost immediately after assuming control. Most were careful enough to keep their objections to themselves, but contempt wasn’t particularly difficult to recognise when you’d spent your entire life surrounded by men who believed a woman’s place was anywhere other than at the head of a table. Some avoided meeting my eyes when I spoke, while others exchanged glances whenever I issued instructions, apparently convinced I wouldn’t notice. A few had been bold enough to question my decisions outright, disguising their objections as concerns about my lack of experience.

It was almost amusing, considering I’d spent most of my life doing the very things they believed I was incapable of.

Almost.

I’d been away from this town for three years, moving between countries on assignments my father had arranged, and my prolonged absence had apparently given everyone the impression that I was little more than an inexperienced daughter who’d inherited a position she hadn’t earned. They knew practically nothing about me beyond my surname, which was precisely how my father had wanted it.

Unfortunately for them, I had no intention of allowing their ignorance to become my problem.

I’d spent enough years having my life dictated by someone else’s ambitions. With my father finally gone, I had an opportunity to take back some measure of control, and I wasn’t about to waste it worrying about whether a collection of pathetic men approved of my leadership.

I kept reminding myself to take things one day at a time, to deal with whatever was in front of me before worrying about everything else. It was sensible advice, the sort I’d have given anyone who came to me complaining about circumstances they couldn’t immediately change.

Following my own advice, however, was proving considerably more difficult.

Because every day I spent buried beneath my father’s mistakes was another day I wasn’t doing what I actually wanted.

Or perhaps I should say, finding who I wanted.

The thought had been lingering at the back of my mind ever since my father’s death. At first, I’d dismissed it as an emotional reaction to finally being free of his control, but the feeling had only grown stronger with each passing day. There was a particular territory I had been forbidden from entering, and someone within it whom I’d been explicitly ordered never to see again.

For three years, I’d obeyed. Not necessarily because I wanted to, but because there had been consequences to consider, and I had known better than to underestimate my father’s willingness to enforce his threats. Now, with Xavier Argent safely buried and no longer in a position to dictate where I went or whom I saw, the temptation to disregard every warning he’d ever given me was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

I could go there if I wanted. There was nobody left to stop me.

At least, nobody with the authority to do so.

Whether I’d be welcome was an entirely different matter, and one I wasn’t particularly eager to think about.

I took another drag of my cigarette and tilted my head toward the sky, hoping the quiet might help clear my thoughts. The city lights obscured most of the stars, but a few were bright enough to remain visible through the faint haze hanging above the buildings. My gaze settled on three familiar stars arranged in a nearly straight line, their pale light unmistakable against the darkness.

The Orion’s Belt. Of all the fucking constellations in the sky.

A familiar ache tightened somewhere beneath my ribs, catching me off guard with an intensity that made me momentarily forget about the cigarette resting between my fingers. Without thinking, my free hand rose to my throat, my fingers finding the necklace resting against my skin. I caught the pendant between my thumb and forefinger, absently turning it as I continued looking at the night sky.

I’d spent three years learning how to keep certain memories from interfering with my life, and apparently all it took to undo that effort was a constellation.

His face came to me with an almost painful clarity. I remembered the warmth of his smile, the way his eyes would soften whenever he looked at me, and how easily he’d been able to make me laugh even when I was determined to remain irritated with the world. Then, as it always did, the memory shifted to the last time I’d seen him. I could still picture the confusion spreading across his features, the gradual realisation that something was terribly wrong, and the hurt that followed when he finally understood, then anger.

I would have preferred it if he’d simply hated me from the beginning. Watching the trust disappear from his eyes had been .. devastating.

Vance.

I closed my eyes briefly, pressing my tongue against the inside of my cheek as I fought the familiar urge to dwell on everything I’d spent years trying to forget.

No. Absolutely fucking not.

I wasn’t going to stand outside a warehouse in the middle of the night and start reminiscing about a man who probably wanted nothing to do with me after I had ghosted him. I had enough problems without voluntarily digging up another one, particularly when there was absolutely nothing, I could do to change what had happened.

I dragged hard on the cigarette and turned my attention away from the sky, watching the distant headlights moving along the road instead. I wasn’t doing this tonight. I wasn’t thinking about him, or us, or how three years ago I’d somehow managed to have everything I’d ever wanted and destroy it anyway.

Some memories deserved to stay buried, preferably beneath several feet of concrete where they couldn’t crawl back out. Violence helped keep them there. Anger helped even more.

Anger was an emotion I understood. It was uncomplicated, familiar, and considerably easier to manage than the alternative. It didn’t demand explanations I wasn’t prepared to give, and it certainly didn’t require me to acknowledge feelings I’d spent years pretending no longer existed. Anger gave me something to focus on, something tangible I could direct toward whoever happened to deserve it.

And lately, there had been no shortage of deserving candidates.

So I held on to it, allowing the familiar irritation to settle comfortably over everything else. It was easier to concentrate on my father’s incompetence, the men stealing from me, and the mountain of work waiting back at the estate than to examine why the sight of three stars could still make my chest hurt.

Unfortunately, there was one particularly truth that no amount of anger had ever managed to erase.

I’d been the one in the wrong.

Especially then.

I hated admitting it, even to myself, because acknowledging what I’d done meant accepting that some of the things I’d lost were entirely my own doing. There were plenty of people I could blame for the circumstances surrounding our separation, and I had spent a considerable amount of time doing exactly that, but none of it changed the part I’d played.

I crushed the cigarette beneath my boot, watching the last glowing embers disappear against the pavement before making my way toward the waiting car.

I’d had enough emotional introspection for one evening.

The drive home was silent, although Axel’s occasional glances through the rearview mirror suggested he had something on his mind. He’d been doing it since we left the warehouse, his eyes flicking toward me whenever he thought I wasn’t paying attention. Every time I caught him, I turned my head slightly in his direction, offering him the opportunity to say whatever was apparently bothering him.

And every time, he reconsidered.

Smart man.

My thoughts eventually returned to the organisation, and I found myself considering the growing number of bodies I’d accumulated since taking over.

I knew I needed to slow down.

I don’t care about the people I’d killed, but corpses had a habit of attracting police attention, and I had enough to deal with without inviting an investigation into my newly inherited affairs. Most of the officers responsible for keeping an eye on our activities had been paid handsomely to look the other way, but those arrangements had belonged to my father. There was no guarantee the same men would extend their cooperation to me, particularly when they realised the person signing their cheques was no longer Xavier Argent.

I’d have to review those arrangements personally, preferably before some ambitious detective decided that a change in leadership presented an excellent opportunity to make a name for himself.

Xavier Argent had spent decades building an empire, and seven days ago, I’d inherited every last piece of it. His money, his businesses, his properties, and the collection of enemies he’d accumulated through years of questionable decisions had all become my responsibility. Unfortunately, the inheritance also included the parasites who’d been profiting from his negligence, and several of them seemed to believe they could continue helping themselves to whatever they pleased.

They were going to be terribly disappointed.

My father might have tolerated being manipulated by people who knew how to appeal to his ego, but I had no intention of following his example. I’d learned enough from watching him to understand that power meant very little if everyone around you could be bought, bribed, or persuaded to act against your interests.

I had no problem being cold, calculating, and manipulative when the situation demanded it. And unlike my father, I didn’t appreciate people stealing from me.

I was Reign Argent, twenty-eight years old, and the sole heir to Argent Enterprises. I had medium-brown hair, brown eyes I’d unfortunately inherited from my father, and a childhood that would probably have kept several therapists employed for the rest of their lives.

Not that I’d ever considered seeing one.

Axel brought the car to a stop outside the estate gates, and I stepped out, adjusting my jacket as the cool night air brushed against my face.

“Do you need anything else tonight?” Axel asked.

I glanced back at him. Technically, it was his day off, and under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have bothered him with something as routine as a debt collection. Unfortunately, there were very few people within the organisation I trusted enough to have accompanying me, and Axel happened to be one of them.

He’d never complained about the hours or the increasingly unpleasant assignments I’d given him over the past week.

“Nah. We’re done.” I started toward the gate before remembering something. “Take a proper off day tomorrow.”

“What about Theron Gervis?” Axel asked.

Of course he’d bring up Theron.

The man had been conspicuously absent ever since my father’s death, which was interesting considering how closely the two had supposedly worked together. While several of my father’s associates had made an effort to contact me following the funeral, Theron had decided that disappearing was a much better use of his time.

I couldn’t say I blamed him for being cautious.

If there was anyone I despised more than my own father, it was Theron Gervis. The role he played three years ago. How I had trusted him. I wasn’t about to rush into confronting him without mentally preparing myself for it. Theron was one problem I wanted to handle properly.

“I’ll come up with a plan tomorrow. I need to more time when it comes to that pig!” I stated.

Axel studied me for a moment, his fingers resting loosely against the steering wheel. He seemed to consider his next words carefully before finally speaking.

“Don’t you think you should take it a little easy? You’ve been going at this for the past week straight, Reign. I haven’t seen you like this before”

I raised an eyebrow at him, more surprised by the concern in his voice than the question itself.

Axel was the only man currently working for me whom I’d personally vetted and hired, which probably explained why he felt comfortable speaking to me in a way most of my father’s employees wouldn’t dare.

We’d met in Madrid while I was stationed there for an assignment. He’d been one of the few people I’d encountered who didn’t seem particularly interested in prying into my personal affairs, and we’d eventually developed something resembling a friendship. I’d come to appreciate his competence, his discretion, and his ability to remain calm in situations that would have sent most people into a panic.

When the opportunity arose, I’d proposed that he come work for me. He’d accepted, and so far, I’d had no reason to regret the decision. That didn’t mean I particularly appreciated him trying to analyse my behaviour.

I stopped with my hand resting against the gate and turned to face him properly. There was genuine concern in his expression, visible in the slight furrow between his brows and the way he waited for my response rather than simply accepting my earlier dismissal.

“There is no easy in this world, X. Life’s too black and white to.. you know, enjoy the fucking grey.”

“If you say so.” He chuckled softly, shaking his head, but the faint smile that accompanied his response didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was something uncomfortably close to pity in the way he looked at me, and I felt my irritation rise almost immediately.

I hated being pitied, particularly by someone who knew enough about my life to believe he had a reason for it. I didn’t need anyone feeling sorry for me. I’d spent too many years fighting for the freedom to make my own decisions, and the last thing I wanted was someone looking at me as though I were a helpless creature.

“Go home, Axel. And.. thank you” I gave him a dismissive wave before turning toward the gates, unwilling to prolong the conversation. He remained where he was for a moment, presumably making sure I made it inside, before I heard the engine start behind me.

The estate grounds were unusually dark. At first, I barely registered it. I was still distracted by my conversation with Axel and the unpleasant memories I’d managed to stir up during the drive, and the absence of the usual exterior lighting didn’t immediately strike me as significant. It wasn’t until I was halfway along the paved path leading toward the main entrance that a faint sense of unease began creeping up my spine.

Something was wrong.

I slowed my steps, allowing my gaze to travel across the familiar surroundings. The estate was normally illuminated by several strategically placed lights, particularly around the entrance and along the perimeter walls. Tonight, most of them were off, leaving the carefully maintained gardens and the front of the house partially swallowed by darkness.

I couldn’t hear the usual murmur of conversation from the guards stationed near the entrance either.

My father had always maintained a substantial security presence around the property, and while I’d made several changes to the personnel since taking over, I hadn’t altered the basic security arrangements. There should have been at least two men positioned near the entrance, with others patrolling the grounds at regular intervals.

I couldn’t see a single one.

I stopped walking and listened, suddenly aware of how unnaturally quiet the estate had become. The distant sounds of traffic were still audible beyond the perimeter walls, and somewhere in the garden, leaves rustled softly in the breeze. But there were no footsteps, no voices, and none of the ordinary activity I’d grown accustomed to hearing whenever I returned home.

Perhaps dismissing Axel so quickly hadn’t been my brightest decision.

My gaze shifted toward the security camera mounted above the entrance. I knew exactly where it was positioned, having personally reviewed the surveillance system earlier that week, and I could usually make out the small red indicator light even from a distance.

Tonight, there was nothing.

I narrowed my eyes, studying the dark camera housing before looking toward the other security fixtures along the building.

They were off too.

Well.

That wasn’t fucking good.

My hand moved instinctively toward the gun at my hip, but before my fingers could reach the holster, something struck the side of my neck.

A sharp sting spread beneath my skin, and I flinched, immediately reaching up to grab whatever had hit me. My fingertips closed around a small object protruding from my neck, and I yanked it free with considerably more force than necessary.

I stared down at the tiny dart resting between my fingers.

For a fraction of a second, I could only look at it in disbelief, my mind rapidly catching up with what had just happened. Someone had disabled my security system, removed the guards, and decided that shooting me with a tranquilliser dart was an appropriate way to welcome me home.

The sheer fucking audacity.

“Oh, you have got to be—”

A sudden wave of dizziness cut me off before I could finish.

My vision blurred around the edges, and I staggered sideways, reaching instinctively for something to steady myself against. My fingers caught nothing but empty air. The dart slipped from my grasp as an unpleasant heaviness spread through my limbs, making it increasingly difficult to remain upright.

I tried to force my legs to cooperate, but whatever they’d used was working far too quickly for my liking. My knees buckled, and the estate entrance tilted violently in my field of vision as I lost my balance.

The last thing I registered was the dark pavement rushing toward my face.

Then everything went black.