Chapter 222 Alexander Reese A stray. That’s what he’d called her. A fucking stray. As if Serena Matthews had been a dog wandering the street or a cat seeking affection—like she wasn’t a living, breathing human being whose life he’d sliced out of existence without a flicker of hesitation. A girl who probably laughed, who dreamed, who deserved to see tomorrow. He’d tossed her aside like she was disposable. And that word. That damn word. It stuck inside my skull like a parasite. Roman hadn’t moved since I said it. He sat perfectly still, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor as if it might confess something to him. His jaw flexed once. Twice. Then nothing. Silence so loud I could hear his thoughts gnashing against each other. The clock on the wall ticked. Ticked again. Ticked louder. Then, finally— “We’re going to New Hope tomorrow, Reese.”His voice was low. Controlled. Too controlled. The kind of calm that meant violence was two breaths away. “We’re going to find out what Jace knows. Then we go to Blackwood Manor.” He stood—no hesitation, no wobble. Just purpose. “It’s about time we take the party to The General’s doorstep. Don’t you think so?” I looked up at him. Let’s burn the world, that stare said. “I’m with you,” I told him. No hesitation. My heartbeat quickened, steady and certain. “All the way.” A soft cough dragged our attention to Paula. She leaned back in her chair, arms folded, eyes narrowed with that razor-sharp intelligence she rarely bothered to show. Her tone carried steel—not fear, not confusion. Judgment. “I hate to ruin your heroic moment,” Paula drawled, “but what about Chloe? Are you planning to keep her tied up in your garage like a spare tire, or…?” Roman’s face darkened instantly. “Chloe is going away for a very, very long time,” he said, voice hard enough to break stone. “If the police don’t do their damn job, I’ll do it for them. I’ve made arrangements. If they let her walk free, I’ll personally ensure she ends up in an asylum. She’s clearly insane, so it’s not far from the truth.” He exhaled sharply. “She’s not stepping foot into the real world again. Ever. Also, she's a danger to Savannah and our child. Can't take chances.” I let out a laugh. “Sounds like you’ve got everything locked down.” Roman shot me a look. “With that girl, you can’t be too careful. She’s a ticking bomb. It's best to keep your distance.” Paula scoffed. “Great. So that’s one monster handled. Now let’s talk about the bigger one.” Roman raised a brow. “The General?” She nodded, eyes flashing. “You two want to march in there guns blazing. Wonderful. But without proof—proof of Serena Matthews ever being on those grounds—you’re just barking. And he will bury you. Both of you. Not minding you're both his sons.” Roman looked at me. “You think he erased the CCTV footage? Tampered with everything?” “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I never cared about those cameras. My only request was that he remove the one from my bedroom.”Roman’s head snapped toward me. “He had cameras in your bedroom?” “I don’t know,” I said again, shrugging—but the motion felt heavy, guilty. “I felt like he did. I always had this creepy sense someone was watching me. I confronted him, and he denied it. I didn’t believe him, so I brought a friend over while he was out. He checked the whole place. Said nothing was hidden.” I gave a half-hearted laugh. “Guess that was just paranoia. Or the fact that my father was pissed I was sleeping around. So he wanted to keep an eye on me. To make sure that I didn't bring the party to the manor.” Roman blinked slowly at me. “Nothing surprises me anymore. Don’t be shocked if he really did have cameras in there. Or worse, he had other ways of keeping tabs on you.” “That old nutjob,” I muttered. “Well… if he watched me, I hope I gave him a show worth the trauma.” Paula exhaled sharply through her nose, the sound sharp like a blade. “What about your siblings?” she snapped. “They still live there, don’t they? You think none of them can help? Not one? Maybe check the cameras, maybe figure out who’s manning them? Something? Anything?” Roman sucked in a breath. “Fuck.”I rubbed my jaw, guilt pricking like needles. “I haven’t spoken to them since I left.” “It’s been over five years,” Roman added flatly. “If I show up, they might not even recognize who they’re talking to.” “I’ll call Rhys,” I said. Paula’s head jerked up. “Rice? Your brother is named Rice? What the actual—” I pulled out my phone. “R-H-Y-S. Originally pronounced as my name. Thankfully Father changed it to Rice. Rhys hates the name though. Imagine both of us with the same damn name.” I shuddered. “Nightmare fuel.” “Oh,” she said, unimpressed. Roman gestured. “Call him. Ask who handles the surveillance now.” I glared at him. He shrugged. I scrolled through my contacts, found Rhys’s number, and hit call. “Speaker,” Roman ordered. I raised a brow. “Please.” His jaw ticked. That was his version of begging.I tapped speaker. It rang. And rang. And on the fifth ring— “Yeah?” His voice hit me in the chest. “Hi, Rhys. It’s—” “I know who it is.” His tone was cool, unfamiliar. “Why are you calling me?” Music thumped faintly behind him. A piano. Classical music. Maybe Father was the one playing the piano. Or maybe it was Rhys and he was trying to drown everything out. Either way, he wasn’t happy. Shit. He had every right. I left him. I abandoned him. I walked out without a backward glance nor a goodbye. “Rhys—” “Don’t call me Rhys.” The snap in his voice was a whip. “Are you tryna piss me off?” Roman raised his brows, amused. “Sorry,” I said. “Alexander.” He took a slow, audible breath. “What do you want, Reese? You left home without telling me where you were going, without saying goodbye, without—” “Hi, Rhys,” Roman cut in suddenly, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It’s Roman.” There was a pause. A long one. Then— “Wait. Wait. Is this on speaker? Are you two together? Damn you, Roman. You've got some nerve.” Rhys sputtered, disbelief dripping from every syllable. “Fuck both of you. I’m hanging up.” “No—no, Alex, wait!” I blurted. “I’m sorry, alright? I swear I am. A lot happened. Things I can’t say over the phone. But I’ll explain when I see you.” Silence. Then, softer: “You abandoned me with River. You know she's a shitty companion.” The guilt lodged in my throat like a stone. “I know,” I said quietly. “I know. But please—can we talk about this when I come home?” “You’re coming back?” Skepticism. Hope buried beneath years of hurt. “Yes.” “When?” “Soon.”Another beat of silence. “What do you want, Reese?” Straight to the point. Good. “I need to know who mans the security cameras at the Manor,” I said. “Which of Father’s men is assigned to them now?” “Father’s men?” Rhys repeated slowly. “Yes.” There was a rustle on the other end. The music faded as if he’d stepped away from it. “Well… it’s not any of his men,” Rhys said. My chest tightened. “Then who?” Roman demanded, stepping closer, eyes drilling into the phone. Rhys hesitated. “You really don’t know?” he whispered, incredulous. My pulse kicked. “No.” He laughed as if he couldn't believe his ears. “Are you serious?” “Rhys.”“Alex.” “Fucking tell us already.” Silence stretched until it was suffocating. Then he spoke. “It’s Randall.” My heart stopped. Roman went still beside me—completely still—like someone had cut his wires. Rhys’s voice dropped to a whisper edged with dread. “Father put Randall in charge of everything.” He swallowed hard, the sound cracking through the speaker. “He watches all the feeds. All the rooms. All the grounds. All the entries. All the exits.” A shaky breath. “He sees everything.” My skin went cold. My vision tunneled. Randall. Not a servant. Not a guard. Not one of Father’s men. Our half-brother. The one both Roman and I, at some point, wished had never been born. The one who carried cruelty like a second heartbeat. The one who knew how to hurt—because he enjoyed it. Rhys said it again, like he needed us to understand. “Randall runs the cameras now.”