The CEO's Midnight Remedy novel Chapter 381

Devon’s POV

After leaving the apartment, I drove straight to Eden. The elevator descended with barely a whisper, the floor numbers ticking down like a

countdown to something inevitable. I watched my reflection ghost across the polished steel doors–windswept hair, loosened tie, coat still

damp from the autumn night. My eyes looked fat. Dead. The kind of calm I wore before violence.

Good.

He’s

been here three hours, Boss,” Marcus said beside me, not looking up from his tablet. “Hasn’t said a word.”

“He will.” I didn’t elaborate. Didn’t need to. Marcus had been with me long enough to know what I was capable of when someone

threatened what was mine.

The doors slid open to reveal the concrete corridor that ran beneath Eden. Exposed pipes overhead. Recycled air that tasted metallic on

the tongue. Our footsteps echoed as we walked past unmarked doors until Marcus stopped at the last one.

I pushed through without besitation.

The interrogation room was exactly as I’d designed it years ago–windowless, soundproofed, stripped of anything resembling comfort. Gray

concrete walls that swallowed sound. A single iron chair bolted to the floor in the center. And in that chair, zip–tied and already showing signs of Marcus’s preliminary work, sat the man who’d tried to kill my future wife.

His head jerked up when I entered. Mid–thirties, I noted clinically. Disheveled. Split lip, swelling around one eye, raw knuckles from where

he’d tried to fight back. His gaze skittered away from my face, landing somewhere near my shoes.

Smart man. He should be afraid,

“Mr. Kane,” Marcus said from behind me, pulling off blood–stained gloves. This is the gentleman who arranged Miss Harper’s accident.”

I shrugged out of my coat without taking my eyes off the prisoner. Lucas materialized to take it, then melted back into the shadows by

the door, Good. I liked my space when I worked.

“You’ve been keeping my associate waiting.” I walked to the metal table in the cornes, fingers trailing across the array of tools laid out with surgical precision. Enives, Pliers, Other Implements | preferred not to time. “That’s disconteous. ”

1-1 want a lawyer,” His voice cracked. Pathetic. “You can’t just–this is illegal-

“Illegal.” I selected a knife, testing its weight. The blade caught the overhead light as I turned it slowly, watching him flinch. “An interesting word choice, considering you attempted vehicular humlekle yesterday.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

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Chapter 381

The knife left my hand before he finished speaking. It burled itself in the wooden chair back, a centimeter from his left ear. His shriek

bounced off the concrete walls, satisfying in its terror.

I didn’t blink. Didn’t move. Just watched him shake.

“Let me clarify our situation,” I said, voice conversational. “You’re in a place that doesn’t officially exist, speaking with people who aren’t

legally here. The laws you’re thinking of?” I walked closer, each step measured. “They protect those who follow society’s rules. You

forfeited that protection when you tried to kill someone under my protection.”

I crouched before his chair, bringing my face level with his. This close, I could smell his fear–sweat and piss and desperation.

“So I’ll ask once,” 1 continued, my voice dropping to barely above a whisper. “Who hired you, and why did they want Arla Harper dead?”

“I can’t–they’ll kill me-”

enough to make the blade creak against wood. He jerked back as far

My hand shot out, gripping

g the knife handle. I twisted it slightly, just enough

as the zip ties allowed.

“They’re not your immediate problem.” I kept my tone pleasant, almost friendly. I am.”

I straightened, moving back to the table. Behind me, Marcus stepped forward with his tablet.

“Perhaps we should discuss your family,” Marcus said mildly. Too mildly. He’d learned that tone from me. “You have a wife–Jennifer, isnt

it? And two children. Michael, seven. Emma, five.”

I heard the sharp intake of breath, saw his face drain of color in my peripheral vision. Good. Now we were getting somewhere.

ur wife

“They live in Queens,” Marcus continued, turning the screen to show photographs my security team had taken. “Nice apartment. Your works at the neighborhood grocery store on the corner. Very dedicated employee, from what I understand.”

“You leave them out of this-“The words came out strangled, desperate.

I turned back to face him, hands in my pockets now. Casual. Unthreatening. Which somehow made me more terrifying–1 could see it in

his eyes.

“That depends entirely on you.” I tilted my head, studying him like he was a particularly interesting specimen. “When you drove that car toward Miss Harper’s vehicle, did you consider that she might have family? People who care whether she lives or dies?”

My chest tightened thinking about it. Aria’s pale face in the hospital beil. The doctor’s grave expression. “it the impact had been just a bit

harder….

I pushed the thought away. She was alive. Our child was alive. That was all that mattered.

“I didn’t–it wasn’t supposed to- The words tumbled out, disjointed. “She wasn’t supposed to get hurt that bad-”

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19:44 Fri, Jan 16

Chapter 381

Something cold and sharp crystallized in my chest. I crossed the distance in three strliles, grabbing the chair arms and bringing my face

inches from his.

“She’s twenty–four years old.” My voice never use above conversational volume, which made it more terrifying. I knew that. Counted on it. “Pregnant. And you ainted two tons of metal at her with enough force to kill.”

1. ed. You.”

So I’ll ask one more time,” I continued, each word deliberate. “Who, Hired,

He hroke. They always broke eventually.

“I’ll tell you!” Tears cut tracks through the grime on his face. “God, I’ll tell you everything, just–just promise you won’t hurt my family-

Π

I held his gaze for a long moment, letting him see whatever he needed to see. Then I straightened, stepped back. Gave him breathing

room.

“Continue.”

The story came out in gasps and stutters. A man in a Brooklyn bar three weeks ago. Tall, wearing a baseball cap and mask. Dark eyes. Military bearing. Ten thousand cash up front, another twenty on completion. A burner phone. Specific instructions about time and

location. A black Bentley with a license plate he’d memorized.

My Bentley. My license plate.

So the target had been me after all? Or had they known Arla would be with me?

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