Chapter 95: Investigation
Rafael’s steel eyes narrowed into slits as James leaned in, his voice cutting through the chaos like a razor-thin thread. Jason’s broken sobs rattled in the background, tangled with Rocco’s low, animalistic grunts as he pressed the interrogation forward. The chamber stank of iron and sweat, the kind of smell that clung to your lungs and made breathing feel like swallowing coins.
The faint groan of Rafael’s wheelchair broke the silence between words, a subtle protest against his restless shifting. He could feel the weight of the moment sitting on his chest, every denial Jason had thrown out carving cracks into his once-solid certainty. Fury and doubt twisted together inside him, sharp and suffocating.
Then James’s interruption cut across it all. He leaned close, so close Rafael could see the way the torchlight painted shadows under his eyes, turning his face gaunt and ghostlike. His skin looked drained of color, as if shock itself had bled him pale. He didn’t have to say much—his face already carried the message.
"James," Rafael murmured, his tone low and edged with impatience, "what the hell is it? You know better than to pull me away from this unless the world’s ending."
James glanced nervously at Austin, who stood nearby with his arms crossed, his tattooed forearms flexing like coiled springs. "Sir, it’s... it’s urgent. From the secure line. We need to step out—now."
Rafael exhaled sharply, his chiseled jaw tightening. He wheeled back slightly, turning his gaze to Austin. The burly man raised an eyebrow, his scarred face twisting into a knowing smirk.
"Austin," Rafael said quietly, leaning forward in his chair to keep the words between them, "something’s come up. Something important I can’t ignore. I’ll be back soon. If this worm Jason still clings to his story after you’re done... well, we’ll pivot. I’ll dig into other angles on Eliana’s kidnapping myself. Maybe there’s more to this than we thought."
Austin chuckled, that deep, rumbling laugh echoing off the concrete walls like thunder in a storm. "You got it, Raf. I’ll keep the pressure on. Kid’s tough for a spoiled brat, but everyone’s got a breaking point. Go handle your business—we’ll pick this up where we left off."
Rafael nodded, a flicker of gratitude softening his cold expression. "Appreciate it, old friend. You’ve always had my back."
With that, Rafael signaled to James, who pushed his wheelchair toward the reinforced door. Austin followed them out, barking an order over his shoulder. "Rocco, keep him singing that tune. No mercy till I say so."
The door slammed shut behind them, muffling Jason’s desperate pleas and the thud of another punch. Inside, Jason dangled like a ragdoll, his body convulsing with each breath. "Please... I didn’t... I swear..." he whimpered to Rocco, who cracked his knuckles with a sadistic grin.
Outside in the corridor, the air felt cooler, less oppressive, though the gravity of secrets still pressed down. Rafael extended his hand to Austin, their grip firm—a silent pact forged in years of shared shadows.
"Tomorrow, then," Rafael said, his voice steady but laced with the exhaustion of a man carrying too many burdens. "Same time? We wrap this up."
Austin clapped him on the shoulder, careful not to jostle the chair. "Tomorrow it is. And hey, Raf—whatever’s got your secretary here looking like he saw a ghost, handle it. You’ve earned some wins."
Rafael managed a wry smile. "Wins? In our world, they’re just pauses before the next fight. Take care, Austin."
As Austin strode back toward the upper levels of his fortress-like compound, Rafael and James made their way to the sleek black SUV waiting in the underground garage. The engine purred to life as James helped Rafael into the passenger seat, folding the wheelchair with practiced efficiency before sliding behind the wheel.
The car slid smoothly into the late-morning traffic, sunlight bouncing off windshields and storefront glass until the world outside blurred into restless streaks of gold and steel. Rafael sat stiff in the back seat, his gaze locked on the window but his thoughts trapped elsewhere.
Jason’s face wouldn’t leave him—the raw mess of tears streaking down his cheeks, the bruised puff around those hazel eyes that still burned with a strange defiance. It replayed in Rafael’s mind like a loop he couldn’t shut off.
Eliana had been certain—too certain. The shock in her eyes when Rafael revealed he already knew she’d been hiding the truth still burned in his memory, but her voice had been razor-sharp later on as she named Jason the man behind the kidnapping attempt. She hadn’t wavered; she’d even admitted that Sarai had backed her suspicion, adding fuel to the fire.
Something wasn’t right somewhere. Bianca—that venom-tongued snake—had been the first to slither in with her testimony. Eliana had followed, her words stacking on top until the heaviness of it all settled down like stone.
The combined certainty of their words had left little room for doubt. It should have been airtight. It should have been enough. And yet...
The way Jason’s voice had cracked, the way desperation clung to every word—there had been something naked and real in it. Something that didn’t fit the picture Rafael had been handed.
His jaw tightened as doubt gnawed at him, chewing through the edges of his resolve. Was Jason lying, a master manipulator playing broken to buy time? Or was Eliana and the others lying? Was Rafael’s mind—haunted, paranoid, poisoned by too many betrayals—turning shadows into truths that weren’t there?
He blinked, trying to focus on the blur of the city rolling past, but the reflection staring back at him in the glass only deepened the unease.
"Alright, James," Rafael said finally, breaking the silence as they merged onto the highway. His voice was sharp, demanding. "We’re alone now. What the hell was so important it couldn’t wait? You pulled me out of there like the building was on fire."
James gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles going pale. He glanced at Rafael through the rearview mirror, his usually composed face etched with a mix of excitement and trepidation. "Sir, it’s the investigation. The one you started three years ago on Mirabel Vexley—it’s finally wrapped up. And... it’s more than we ever hoped for. Sam, the investigator, just sent over the full report. It’s explosive."
Rafael’s breath caught, his piercing eyes widening in disbelief. He leaned forward, his athletic frame tensing "The Mirabel file? After all this time? You’re serious?"
James nodded vigorously, a rare smile cracking his stoic demeanor. "Dead serious, sir. I got the alert on the pager—secure channel only. The document’s massive, but Sam’s note said it’s airtight. Evidence that could bury her for good."