CHAPTER 31: BROKEN CONTROL

Chapter 31

JACE MARINO

I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until I stepped through the hospital doors and the night hit me in the face. The lights buzzed above the entrance, flickering against the glass. My hands were shaking, but I shoved them in my pockets like I didn’t notice.

I told off a detective.

Not just any detective. Julian’s father.

And not just told him off... I stood there, in front of him, with all the Marino blood and arrogance my father ever bred into me, and I said no.

For a second, it felt good. Powerful even.

Now it just feels like a bruise forming on the inside.

I walked across the parking lot, the sound of my shoes echoing in the dark. Every step away from that room made my chest tighter. Julian was in there, probably trying to calm his parents down, probably defending me when I didn’t deserve it.

He should hate me.

He probably does.

By the time I reached my car, my jaw hurt from clenching it. I sat there for a minute, gripping the steering wheel, staring at my reflection in the rearview mirror. My eyes looked tired, hollow. Like I hadn’t slept in years. Maybe I hadn’t—not the kind of sleep that means anything.

I started the engine.

The road home looked endless.

Halfway through the drive, I caught myself laughing.

Not because anything was funny, but because I couldn’t believe how fast everything had fallen apart. One minute, I was trying to be a decent man. The next, I was back to being my father’s son. A Marino with blood on his name and guilt carved into his bones.

When I reached the estate, the gates opened before I even slowed down.

Same as before.

Same as always.

The guards nodded like they’d been expecting me. They probably were. My father didn’t waste time making sure everyone knew when his puppet came crawling back.

I parked and just sat there for a bit, listening to the engine tick. I didn’t want to go inside. I wanted to drive somewhere else. Anywhere else. But I couldn’t. I had people to protect now. People who didn’t even ask for this mess.

When I finally got out, Aiko was waiting near the door. She looked smaller than she did earlier. Same perfect hair, same perfect dress, but her face was pale.

"You went through with it," she said quietly.

I didn’t answer.

"Jace," she stepped forward, "I didn’t know he’d—"

"Don’t." My voice came out low. "You knew enough."

She flinched. "He’s your father. He—"

"He’s a monster," I said. "Stop defending him."

For a second, I thought she’d argue. Instead, she looked away.

"Marco’s looking for you," she said finally. "He and Mateo are in the west wing. Your father wants a word after dinner."

Of course, he does.

The halls were dim, quiet except for the distant hum of conversation and the tick of that giant clock that never stopped. Everything in this house looked polished, controlled, perfect. But it still smelled like fear.

I found Mateo in the office first. He was sitting on the edge of the desk, sleeves rolled up, a glass of something dark in his hand. Marco was pacing.

"Took you long enough," Marco said when he saw me.

"Had a chat with a detective," I said, closing the door behind me.

Mateo raised an eyebrow. "Julian’s father?"

"Yeah."

Marco whistled. "I got the hell out of there when he pinned me with a look. Damn big bro. You’ve got balls."

"No," I said. "I’ve got a problem."

They exchanged a look, the kind brothers have when they both know I’ve stepped too deep again.

"You went to see him," Mateo said flatly. "Dad told us."

I gave a bitter laugh. "Of course he did. Probably bragged about it."

"Pretty much," Marco muttered.

I dropped into the chair opposite them. The leather creaked under me. "He’s got me by the throat again."

Mateo set his glass down. "You agreed to his terms?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"And I hate myself for it."

The room went quiet. The weight of everything I’d done—or agreed to—sat heavy between us.

"Why’d you go back?" Marco asked finally. "You could’ve run."

"Because he took them," I said. "Rico and Luka. He was using them as leverage. What was I supposed to do? Let them get buried for my mistakes?"

Marco looked down. "You always do this," he said. "Take the hit for everyone else."

"Someone has to," I said.

Mateo leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "And what’s the plan now? You think you can play his game and win?"

"I don’t have to win," I said. "I just have to keep Julian safe."

Mateo sighed. "He’s not going to stop, Jace. You know that. The dinner? It’s not just for show. He’s making moves again. New partners, new deals. He’s going to use you to make it look clean."

"I know."

"Then what are you gonna do?"

I stared at the floor for a long time. "Play along. For now."

Marco frowned. "You’re serious?"

"Yeah. If I fight him now, everyone I care about pays the price. So I’ll play the son, go to his dinner, smile for the cameras, pretend I’m exactly what he wants."

"And after?" Mateo asked.

"After," I said quietly, "I burn this whole place down."

Marco let out a low whistle. "You’ve been hanging around Julian too long. He’s rubbing off on you."

That actually made me smile a little. "Maybe that’s not such a bad thing."

The room went still for a beat. Mateo studied me like he was seeing someone new. Maybe he was.

"Just be careful," he said. "Dad’s not gonna let you slip twice."

I nodded, standing up. "He already did. He just doesn’t know it yet."

Later that night, I sat in my old room.

Same walls. Same view of the city through bulletproof glass. Same shelves lined with books I pretended to care about.

But everything felt different now.

I pulled the Marino ring off my finger and set it on the desk. The metal was cold, heavy, suffocating. I stared at it for a long time before shoving it inside the drawer. Out of sight.

My phone buzzed.

Aiko.

I deleted the message without checking it

My reflection in the window looked like someone else—someone I didn’t want to be.

But it didn’t matter.

By the weekend. I’d wear the suit, smile for the cameras, play the part of the perfect son.

For now, I just sat there, staring into the night, thinking of Julian.

His laugh. His voice. The way he looked at me even when he was mad.

He deserved peace.

And if that meant I had to drown in my father’s world again to give him that—so be it.

I whispered it to the dark.

"I’ll fix this. Even if it kills me."