Make My Heart Believe a Lie

Chapter 59

✨Before the Fire Fell.✨

Nasir Pov

Nasir hadn’t sat once after leaving her home.

Stillness was a luxury he couldn’t afford—not when Victor Hale had reached into his home and reminded him how fragile peace could be.

He stood at the window of his office instead, phone still warm in his hand, watching the city breathe like it didn’t know what it had just done.

A woman.

At his door.

Speaking Flora’s name.

The thought pressed behind his eyes until it hurt.

He dialed Eli again. “Lock everything down.”

“I already did,” Eli said. “Rafe’s eyes are everywhere.”

“Good.” Nasir exhaled slowly. “I will call Kamal.”

Nasir made the first call without hesitation.

Kamal answered on the second ring. “Talk to me.”

“They went near her,” Nasir said. He didn’t need to explain who they were. “I want Victor.”

"You took too long,” he said instead of greeting him.

“I wanted to be sure.”

There was a pause—not hesitation, just understanding.

“Alive?” Kamal asked.

“For now.”

Victor Hale had crossed into his home, brushed the edges of his life like he had a right to touch what was his. Men like him believed power was distance—that if they stayed far enough away, nothing could reach them.

They were always wrong.

The corner of Nasir mouth lifted, humorless.

“You don’t wait when someone marks your territory,” Kamal replied. “You erase them.”

“I’m doing more than erasing him.”

Silence stretched between them. Then Kamal exhaled slowly. “Good. Because my men are already positioned. Ports, financial routes, private airstrips. Victor’s cash flow is about to forget his name.”

“Keep it clean,” Nasir said. “I want him isolated before he realizes he’s alone.”

“He won’t,” Kamal said. “Not until it’s too late.”

Nasir ended the call and finally turned away from the window. The room felt too small, like the walls were leaning in. He rolled his shoulders once, grounding himself, then began to move.

Maps came up on the screen. Routes. Warehouses. Places Victor liked to feel important. Places he thought were safe.

Nasir call Eli and Rafe to meet him at the office. A new plan was taking shape in his mind. He didn’t pretend. Didn’t posture.

Less than a hour they were standing before him.

“I’m ready,” he said immediately.

“Say when,” Eli said.

“You’ll handle the east side,” Nasir told him.

“Victor’s weapons storage. I want them gone before sunrise. I want nothing remaining.”

A pause. Then, sharp and satisfied, “He won’t have teeth by morning.”

“Good,” Nasir said. “I don’t want him fighting back. I want him listening.”

When they left, he felt it—the shift. The city hadn’t changed, but the balance had. Every streetlight, every shadow now belonged to someone else.

Rafe met him at the warehouse, the air already buzzing with controlled movement. Screens glowed. Maps were layered with red lines and time stamps. Men moved with purpose, no wasted motion, no questions.

“Everything’s locked,” Rafe said. “Victor’s under full watch. Phones tapped. Couriers intercepted. Three of his lieutenants think they’re being promoted tonight.”

“They’re being buried instead,” Nasir replied.

“Financial collapse starts in thirty minutes,” Rafe continued. “Accounts frozen. Shell companies exposed. By dawn, Victor won’t be able to buy a cup of coffee without permission.”

“And the woman he sent?” Nasir asked.

Rafe’s expression darkened. “She was paid through an intermediary. That trail leads straight back to him.”

“Good,” Nasir said. “I want him to know why this is happening.”

The plan unfolded like a blade sliding free.

First—silence.

Victor’s communications went dark one by one. Phones stopped ringing. Messages went unanswered. His world shrank without him noticing.

Second—removal.

Eli’s teams cleared the warehouses. Kamal’s men seized the docks. Nothing loud. Nothing public. Just absence. Just gaps where power used to sit.

Third—containment.

Rafe’s men closed the perimeter. No exits. No warnings. No chance for Victor to disappear into money and false names.

Nasir stood over the table, watching the final marker blink on the screen.

Victor Hale.

Alone.

“This is where he panics,” one of the men said quietly.

“No,” Nasir replied. “This is where he realizes.”

Rafe glanced at him. “You want to do this yourself?”

“Yes.”

Because this wasn’t business anymore.

This was personal.

Nasir smiled without humor.

Victor always thought he was untouchable. Men like him mistook money for protection, mistook influence for immunity. They forgot that there were darker currencies in the world.

Nasir switched phones.

“Bring him in,” he told Rafe men. “Quietly.”

“And the buyer?” Rafe asked

“Let him wait,” Nasir replied. “Fear works better when it ripens.”

He thought of Flora then—barefoot in the kitchen, trying to act brave when she was still learning what safety felt like. He remembered the way she’d looked at him after the door closed, like she trusted him to carry the weight of the world so she didn’t have to.

That trust settled something sharp and permanent in his chest.

Victor had planned her future like a transaction. Trump had offered her up like inventory.

Nasir would teach victor the cost of that mistake, like trump had.

By nightfall, the city began to whisper. Phones went silent. Cars changed direction. A trail formed—not rushed, not panicked, just inevitable.

Victor was located.

Nasir didn’t go to him right away.

He waited.

The warehouse smelled like oil, dust, and old steel.

Nasir liked it that way. It reminded him that control was built, not given.

Rafe was already there, leaning over a table scattered with maps, photos, and marked routes. Two other men stood nearby—trusted, quiet, lethal.

“The visit wasn’t a coincidence,” Rafe said as soon as Nasir joined him. “Victor’s bleeding. We’ve hit three fronts. He’s testing your perimeter.”

“He doesn’t get to test her,” Nasir replied coldly.

Rafe nodded. “We’ve narrowed down the buyer.”

Nasir’s attention snapped fully to him. “Talk.”

“Man named Elias Kade. Runs his operation out of Marseille. Likes acquisitions he can break down and reshape.” Rafe’s voice darkened. “Trump sold her with paperwork already drafted. Engagement contract. Transfer scheduled.”

Nasir’s hand curled slowly into a fist.

“He doesn’t get her,” Nasir said, each word controlled. “Ever.”

“We’re aligned,” Rafe said. “But Victor’s the gatekeeper. We wipe him out, we get Kade’s trail clean.”

Nasir studied the table. Routes. Names. Weak points.

“No witnesses,” he said. “No chaos. I want Victor alive long enough to give me everything—and then I want his empire erased so thoroughly no one remembers his name.”

Rafe smiled grimly. “Already moving pieces.”

Nasir straightened. “Double security at the apartment. No uniforms. No obvious tails.”

“And Flora?”

Nasir’s gaze hardened, but his voice softened. “She doesn’t hear a word of this.”

Rafe hesitated. “She’s smarter than you think.”

“I know,” Nasir said. “That’s why she deserves peace while I burn the world quietly.”

He turned to leave.

“One more thing,” Rafe said. “Victor won’t stop escalating.”

Nasir paused at the door. “Neither will I.”

---

When he returned home later that night, Flora was asleep on the couch, Paw curled protectively across her legs.

Nasir stood there for a long moment, watching her breathe.

Victor had touched the edges of his world.

That mistake would cost him everything.

---

Nasir didn’t sleep.

He sat in the chair across from the couch long after the lights were dimmed, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled back, watch removed. Still. Listening.

Flora shifted once in her sleep, a soft sound leaving her throat—nothing conscious, nothing afraid—but Nasir’s attention sharpened instantly. His gaze flicked to the door, the windows, the shadowed corners of the room.

Safe, he reminded himself. For now.

Victor had always liked distance. Proxies. Polished hands that never got dirty. Sending a woman instead of muscle wasn’t kindness—it was strategy. A way to say I know where you keep what matters.

Nasir flexed his fingers slowly, then stilled them again.

He would not bring blood into this house.

That was the line Victor didn’t understand.

Nasir rose quietly and crossed to the window, peering down at the street below. Two cars he recognized. One he didn’t. He memorized the angle of its parking, the timing of the interior light going dark.

Tomorrow, that car would be gone.

He looked back at Flora.

She was curled slightly on her side now, Paw’s head resting against her hip, one arm draped protectively across the dog’s back even in sleep. There was something devastatingly human about it. Something fragile in a way Victor would never comprehend.

Flora stirred softly on the couch, the warmth of sleep still clinging to her. Instinctively, her hand moved across the cushion beside her, searching for him.

The space was empty.

Her eyes opened slowly.

For a second she thought the room was empty too, the soft lamplight the only sign that someone had been awake. Then she saw him.

Nasir was sitting in the chair across from the couch, leaning back slightly, his elbows resting on the arms of the chair. His gaze was fixed on her, steady and unreadable in the dim light.

He looked like he had been sitting there for a while.

Flora blinked away the last of her sleep and pushed herself up on one elbow.

“You’re not in bed,” she murmured, her voice soft and rough from sleep.

Nasir didn’t move.

“I know.”

She studied him for a moment. Something about the way he was sitting felt… heavy. Quiet. Like his mind was somewhere far away.

Flora sat up fully and stretched, then slipped off the couch.

Her bare feet padded quietly across the floor.

She reached the chair and gently placed her hand on the seat beside him, almost like a small invitation. Nasir watched her with that same calm expression as she climbed into his lap without hesitation, curling against him like it was the most natural place in the world.

Her arms slid around his neck.

“What’s wrong?” she asked softly.

Nasir’s hands came up automatically, settling around her waist to steady her.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

Flora tilted her head slightly, studying his face.

“You came home late,” she said.

“Work.”

“You were staring at me.”

His lips curved faintly.

“I like watching you sleep.”

She narrowed her eyes a little.

“That’s suspicious.”

Nasir chuckled quietly, the sound low in his chest.

“Is it?”

“Yes,” she said, poking his shoulder lightly. “Normal people sleep when they’re tired.”

“Normal people don’t look like you when they sleep.”

Flora rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at her mouth.

“You’re dodging the question.”

“What question?”

“Why you’re sitting in the dark like a brooding movie character.”

Nasir’s fingers brushed gently over her back.

“I told you,” he said calmly. “I was watching you sleep.”

Flora studied him again, trying to read the deeper meaning behind his words. Nasir, however, was a master at keeping parts of himself hidden. His expression was relaxed, his voice steady.

If something was wrong, he wasn’t going to tell her tonight.

She sighed softly and leaned into him instead, resting her head against his shoulder.

“Well,” she said quietly, “if you’re going to be creepy and watch me sleep, you could at least hold me while you do it.”

Nasir smiled slightly.

His arms tightened around her, pulling her closer into the safety of his chest.

“Noted.”

Flora’s fingers traced lazily along the back of his neck.

“You’re late though,” she murmured again, half teasing, half curious.

Nasir kissed the top of her head.

“Don’t worry about it.”

She lifted her face slightly.

“I always worry.”

“I know.”

Flora watched him for another moment, then sighed in defeat.

“You’re impossible.”

“So I’ve been told.”

She huffed softly and curled closer, her legs tucked against his.

Despite the unanswered questions, despite the quiet tension she could still feel lingering in him, Flora relaxed against his chest.

Nasir rested his chin lightly against her hair.

Neither of them spoke again for a while.

And though he said nothing about where he had been or why he had come home so late, his arms never loosened around her, holding her like the protector he had always been.

“I won’t let them take you,” he murmured, not as a promise—but as a fact when he was sure she was asleep.

Somewhere across the city, Victor Hale was still breathing.

That wouldn’t last.