Chapter 2 That's Her

• A bright light hit Nero's face, causing him to slowly open his eyes. He was greeted by a white ceiling and a light fixture overhead. The sterile smell of antiseptic hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the opulent scents of the ballroom he last remembered. He could smell medicine too, a sharp, metallic tang that reminded him of the reality of his situation.
• "Boss, you alright?" Winston, one of his men, rushed to his side when he saw Nero's eyes open. The concern etched on Winston's face was genuine, a stark contrast to the stoic facade Nero usually presented.
• "Yeah. Why the heck am I here?" His brows furrowed as he asked, his voice hoarse from disuse. He slowly sat up, his body protesting with a series of pops and clicks. The memory of the blinding lights, the screeching tires, and the sickening impact was still fresh in his mind, a haunting echo of the accident that had brought him here. As he looked around, he saw the other three members of his crew present: Jake, the tall and silent one, always a shadow in the background; James, the quick-witted strategist; and Kaizer, the fiery one, always ready to charge into battle. Their faces were a mixture of relief and worry, their eyes reflecting the weight of what had happened.
• "Boss, can't you remember? You got into an accident." James said, sighing. "The doctor said that you have mild injuries, but you'll be fine." The words were meant to be reassuring, but the tremor in his voice betrayed his own anxieties.
• "How's my parents? Where is Mom and Dad? They came back safely, didn't they?" Nero's voice was sharp, laced with a barely contained panic. He scanned the faces of his men, searching for reassurance, but all he found was a shared look of avoidance. "The heck, you wish for death, are you?!" His voice rose an octave, the fear that had been simmering beneath the surface boiling over.
• "B…Boss, well…" Winston stammered, his eyes darting away.
• "The heck, just fucking answer my question!!" He shouted, his frustration reaching a fever pitch. He looked around the room, taking in the sterile white walls, the medical equipment, the single window overlooking a dreary cityscape. It was obvious he was in a private room, a stark contrast to the luxurious suites he was accustomed to.
• "Boss, Sir Justin is with them." James finally spoke, his voice low and steady.
• "Where? The fucking shit!" Nero's anger flared, his fists clenching. He needed to know his parents were safe, needed to know they were okay.
• "Boss, your father is dead," Winston stated carefully, his voice barely a whisper. Their heads were still bowed, their eyes fixed on their shoes, afraid to meet Nero's gaze. The silence that followed was heavy, thick with unspoken grief and the weight of the news.
• "Let's go to the Villa…" Jake started, his voice a low rumble.
• "We are already here, boss." Kaizer finished the sentence, his voice barely a whisper.
• "How's the deal?" Nero asked, his voice regaining its usual commanding tone. The question was a lifeline, a way to regain control, to focus on the task at hand. This time, Kaizer stepped forward, meeting Nero's gaze with a mixture of sorrow and determination.
• "There's no such a deal."
• Nero raised a brow, his eyes narrowed. "And?"
• Kaizer put his hands in his pocket, his gaze unwavering. "There's no enemy too," he stated clearly. The words were simple, but the implications were profound. It wasn't a clear explanation, but Nero was not dumb enough not to understand it. The deal, the enemy, the entire elaborate trap – it was all gone.
• He gritted his teeth as he remembered what happened before his accident and listened to the news he was getting right now. It was already clear to his mind what had happened. Just by thinking about it, he could conclude that it was all a trap. A trap not only for him but also for his parents. The details were hazy, obscured by the fog of the accident and the drugs that had been used to subdue him, but the truth was undeniable. He had been lured into a trap, a carefully orchestrated scheme that had cost his father his life.
• "Bring me to my parents," he said, his voice cold and hard.
• There was no sadness or disappointment on Nero's face. He remained calm, focused on resolving things. He knew that this would eventually happen to his parents because their enemy was elusive, a phantom lurking in the shadows. Before getting into this, he was already aware of the responsibilities that rested on his shoulders. Responsibilities he couldn't avoid. The weight of his family's legacy, the burden of their business, the constant threat of the underworld – it was all a part of his life, a reality he had embraced with a steely resolve.
• The four men looked at each other again while Nero slowly stood up from his seated position and got into the wheelchair. Jake immediately approached from behind and smoothly pushed Nero's wheelchair out of the room. The silence that filled the room was broken only by the rhythmic click of the wheels against the polished floor.
• Their trip to the morgue was silent; they could even hear the chirping of birds outside the hospital window, a stark contrast to the grim reality they were facing.
• At the end of the hallway where they were, there was a passageway where the wheelchair could be taken. They chose to go through that instead of the elevator because, besides being closer, they knew their boss was deep in thought. The weight of his father's death, the betrayal, the realization of the trap – it was all swirling in his mind, a storm of emotions he was desperately trying to control.
• When they reached the lower floor, they came to a door, and beyond that door, they could see another door with a sign above it. It wasn't very long, but the words were immediately clear.
• Morgue.
• Jake was about to push the wheelchair again when they saw someone emerge from that morgue. The figure was shrouded in shadow, their face obscured, but even from a distance, Nero could sense a familiar aura, a sense of danger and mystery.
• "That's her," Nero said, his voice a low growl. The woman who had warned him, the woman who had vanished into the crowd, the woman who had been right all along.