CHAPTER 44: The Final Betrayal

The air in Carver's office was thick with the scent of whiskey and cigar smoke, the dim light casting long shadows against the mahogany walls. Alexander stood before Carver, every muscle in his body coiled like a predator waiting to strike. His bruised knuckles throbbed, a reminder of the war he had fought in the ring, but the real battle was just beginning.

Carver smirked, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "You made the right choice, Alexander. It's good to know you're finally seeing reason."

Alexander kept his expression neutral, his heart hammering against his ribs. "I just want what's mine," he said. "Eve walks free. That's the deal."

Carver chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Of course. But first, I need you to prove your loyalty. One last job. One last fight. Then we'll talk about freedom."

Alexander nodded, playing the part of the obedient soldier. But inside, his mind was already working, calculating every possible move, every escape route. He had no intention of fulfilling Carver's demands. The moment the bastard thought he had won, Alexander would make his move.

The pieces were already in place.

The underground warehouse was alive with the hum of machinery, the low murmurs of men preparing for another shipment. Crates of illicit cargo lined the walls, guarded by Carver's most trusted enforcers. Alexander moved through the shadows, every step deliberate, every motion precise.

He wasn't alone.

From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of his unexpected ally—someone from Carver's own ranks. Someone who had grown tired of Carver's games, of his cruelty. Someone with their own reasons for wanting to see him fall.

A whispered signal. A nod of confirmation.

The plan was in motion.

Explosions ripped through the warehouse, shattering the silence. The lights flickered, chaos erupting in an instant. Shouts of confusion, the clatter of weapons being drawn—Alexander moved swiftly, using the pandemonium to his advantage. One by one, Carver's men fell, taken by surprise, outmaneuvered before they even realized what was happening.

The operation was crumbling. Everything Carver had built was being dismantled from the inside.

And then, Carver arrived.

He stepped through the smoke and debris, flanked by his remaining men, his face a mask of cold fury. His eyes met Alexander's, and for the first time, there was something there that hadn't been before.

Doubt.

Betrayal had never been a fear of Carver's. He controlled people through fear, through power. But he had underestimated Alexander. And now, he was paying the price.

"You taught me that trust is a weakness," Alexander said, his voice deadly calm. "You were right. And now, I'm using that lesson against you."

Carver laughed—a sharp, humorless sound. "You think you've won? You think I didn't prepare for this?" He gestured, and from the shadows, another group of armed men emerged.

The room tilted. Alexander had accounted for everything—except this.

The cost of victory was about to reveal itself.

Eve's scream cut through the air.

Alexander's blood ran cold as he turned, his worst fear realized. She was there, caught in Carver's grasp, a knife pressed against her throat.

"Now," Carver said smoothly, "let's renegotiate."

Everything was falling apart.

And this time, the price might be too high.