By the ti he stepped inside, the casual arrogance had disappeared from his face, replaced by a practiced smile—one full of flattery.
"Mr. Lachlan," Callum greeted smoothly, "we’ve got them in custody. The interrogations have started, and we’re already getting statents. Would you like to review them?"
Across the room, a middle-aged man sat with a newspaper folded in his lap.
He wore a black wool coat, gold-rimd glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. A cup of tea rested on the table beside him, untouched.
At Callum’s words, Lachlan set down his newspaper, finally revealing his face. His expression remained unreadable.
"Let see."
Callum quickly handed over the reports, watching for any flicker of reaction.
Lachlan skimd through them with the sa calm detachnt, his finger tapping lightly against the paper.
"So, they were involved in the gang conflict. But aside from this Axel kid, none of them actually killed anyone."
It wasn’t a question. There was sothing unnervingly precise about the way Lachlan spoke, like a man who had already figured out the ending before even opening the book.
Callum hesitated. He wasn’t sure where this was going. Did Lachlan want a different outco? A bigger charge?
He cleared his throat. "Mr. Lachlan, I’m certain they coordinated their stories. Don’t worry—I’ll run another round of questioning. Get them to crack."
He flashed his best I-can-make-this-happen smile, eager to prove himself. The man in front of him wasn’t just anyone. A major player from Langford.
Callum didn’t know why Lachlan had an interest in a bunch of high school graduates, but that didn’t matter. What did matter was that if he played his cards right, this could be his ticket up.
"That won’t be necessary," he said, waving a dismissive hand.
Callum shut his mouth, confused.
Lachlan leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers lightly against the armrest.
"Bring her in," he said.
Callum blinked. "Her?"
"Yes," Lachlan said simply. "The girl."
Callum hesitated for only a second before nodding quickly. "Understood."
He turned and hurried out of the room, barely able to hide the excitent creeping into his steps. This was it. His chance.
......
Not long after, Cassia was led into the room. The handcuffs had been removed, but the cold bite of tal still lingered on her wrists. She took a seat across from Lachlan, her expression wary.
"So, you're Orion's daughter," Lachlan mused, his eyes appraising her for the first ti. "Very pretty."
Cassia bristled at the scrutiny. She had no idea who this man was, but she didn’t like the way he looked at her.
"Who are you?" she asked sharply.
Lachlan smiled faintly, unbothered by her hostility.
"My na is Lachlan. I represent the Moncrief family of Langford. Your father and I were... acquaintances. I was sent here today to escort you back to Langford."
At those words, Cassia’s heart sank. So this was it.
Orion had told her about the marriage arrangent—the family behind it was from Langford. And now, the man in front of her was here to collect her.
Her voice was firm. "Orion is dead. I don’t agree to this marriage."
Lachlan’s smile faded.
"Don’t worry," he said coolly, his deanor shifting back to business.
"In Langford, the Moncrief family isn’t the wealthiest, but we have our reputation. The wedding invitations have already gone out. If word got out that fiancée ran away, and her family was slaughtered, how do you think that would make us look?"
Cassia hesitated. Sothing about the way he spoke was... calculated. It made the Moncriefs sound like victims in this situation.
For the briefest mont, she felt a flicker of guilt.
"Mr. Lachlan, I’m sorry for the trouble this has caused your family," she said softly.
Lachlan suddenly chuckled, shaking his head.
"You really are Orion’s daughter?" He leaned back in his chair, amusent flickering in his sharp eyes. "I expected soone sharper."
Cassia frowned, taken aback.
Lachlan stood up, towering over her.
"Little girl," he said, his voice turning cold, "this is the real world. Do you think I ca all this way just to hear an apology?"
His sudden shift in tone sent a chill down Cassia’s spine.
"If you screw up," he continued, "there’s a price to pay. My father is furious about this ss, so I have to find a way to **clean it up.**"
Cassia’s breathing quickened. She had been naïve. This wasn’t about what she wanted. It never had been.
"Here’s how this works," Lachlan went on. "You ran away, but the wedding hasn’t happened yet. That ans there’s still ti to fix things."
"Your father is dead, and it would be a hassle to find a new bride from another family."
His next words were slow and deliberate, each one hitting like a hamr.
"Listen carefully, because your decision determines whether your friends live or die."
Cassia’s body tensed.
Lachlan wasn’t bluffing. She knew he held all the power. And what terrified her the most? He was completely at ease, standing here in a police station talking about murder like it was just another business deal.
Cassia clenched her fists under the table. Even the police weren’t going to help. Her father’s words echoed in her mind: "If fate is against you, then your life belongs to the strong."
Her world was shattering—all the illusions of safety and fairness she once believed in.
Lachlan’s voice cut through her thoughts. "First, you’ll co back to Langford and complete the engagent."
"Second, you’ll help take over both the Ironfang Syndicate and the Crimson Vipers. On paper, you’ll be the new boss. In reality, you’ll follow my orders."
Cassia still had dried blood on her skin. And now, this. She raised her head, eyes filled with raw defiance.
Lachlan smirked.
"That’s better," he said. "You had the guts to go back and kill your own father. If you didn’t have the spine to stand up to , I’d be worried about whether you were even worth keeping around."
He sipped his tea, utterly unfazed by her hostility.
Cassia forced herself to steady her voice. "And if I say no?"
Lachlan didn’t hesitate. "Simple," he said smoothly.
"First, I’ll take you by force. The engagent will happen. You can fight it all you want, but it’s already decided."
"Second, every single one of your friends will die." His tone was casual, like he was discussing dinner plans. "I’ll give you three minutes to decide."
He picked up his newspaper, flipping it open like he had all the ti in the world.
Three minutes had never felt so long. Cassia’s nails dug into her palms. If only she were stronger. If only she had been stronger, none of this would be happening.
Lachlan peeked over the top of his newspaper, watching her struggle in silence.
"Looks like you need so extra motivation," he murmured.
He set the paper down, adjusting his coat with a leisurely stretch.
"Co on," he said, his tone almost cheerful. "Let’s go pay a visit to your friends."
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