MasukDAMON'S POV:I stood by the large window, staring out at the garden and then I heard soft footsteps approaching in the hallway outside.Isabelle appeared in the doorway.She was wearing one of my old wool sweaters, the sleeves rolled up past her elbows, her brown hair pulled back in a messy bun. She looked tired to the bone and also looked deeply worried. In fact she looked like a woman who had been told an impossible truth and was still trying to process every single word of it.But there was something else burning in her eyes. Something that looked very much like stubborn determination.And I knew right away that she had been listening. She must have been listening. She must have heard us talking, must have heard the raised voices, must have heard the words that we had been trying to keep from her. She must have crept down the hallway and stood outside the door and listened to every single word.And now she was standing in the doorway, her brown eyes blazing, her jaw set, her whole
DAMON'S POV:A Few Days Later…The study had turned into a complete war room.Maps covered every surface, pinned down securely with glass paperweights and coffee mugs. Blueprints of the mansion, of the surrounding grounds, of the roads that led in and out of the estate were spread across the large table. Photographs of known Black Hand operatives were pinned to a corkboard that I had dragged in from the hallway earlier that morning. Timelines were scrawled across a whiteboard, marked with red ink and arrows and the kind of frantic handwriting that came from a man who had not slept in days.I stood right at the center of it all, my sleeves rolled up to my elbows, my hair completely disheveled, my jaw locked tight. I had been awake for nearly forty-eight hours straight. I had not eaten a single bite of food. I had not taken a shower. I had not done anything except plan, prepare, and wait for the inevitable storm to hit our front doors.Serena was right beside me, just as exhausted,
DAMON'S POV:"I am both. I am a detective, a sister, and a woman who spent five years trying to destroy the men who threatened her family."She paused, inhaling deeply to calm her shaking hands, letting out a long breath that seemed to carry years of built-up tension away from her chest."And now I am just tired. I am tired of hiding in the shadows. I am tired of lying to the people I care about. I am tired of being afraid of what comes next."I looked at her with a completely new level of respect and awe. Then, a grim and sudden realization hit me hard in the chest. I thought back to my own past as a sniper, and why the Black Hand had such a deeply personal vendetta against me specifically."I know why they hate me," I said quietly, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. "I know what I did to cross them so badly."Serena blinked in surprise, tilting her head slightly to the side. "You know why?""I did a contract for them years ago, long before I walked away from that violent
DAMON'S POV:She was quiet for a moment. Then she spoke again, her voice softer now."You want to know why they hate me? Why they hate you? Why they are coming for us?"I did not answer. I just waited."It started with a job," she said. "Five years ago. They contacted me. Not as a spy. As a police officer. They wanted me to do something for them. Something illegal. Something that would have destroyed everything I had worked for."I looked at her. "You were a police officer?""I was. Before all of this. Before I went undercover. I was a detective. I worked for the homicide department for six years. I was good at my job, I was respected and I was proud of what I did."She paused. She looked down at her hands."I had a life. A real life. I had a career. I had colleagues who respected me. I had a future. And then they came to me.""Who came to you?""The Black Hand. They approached me in my office. They told me that they knew who I was. They told me that they knew my family. They told me
DAMON'S POV:I could not sit still.I stood up from my desk and walked to the window, then back to the desk, then to the window again. The study suddenly felt too small, the walls pressing in on me, the air too thick to breathe. My hands were clenched at my sides, my jaw tight enough to crack my own teeth. I could feel the anger moving through me like something alive, something that had been sleeping for years and had just been woken up without warning.The Black Hand.I had spent years building walls between myself and that world. Years of walking away from the darkness I had once lived in. Years of telling myself that I was done, that I was out, that I would never go back.And now it had followed me home.Not to me. That I could have handled. If they had come for me, I would have met them at the door with a gun in my hand and no hesitation. But they were not coming for me. They knew better than that. They knew that the fastest way to break a man like me was not to hit him directly.
SERENA'S POV:"They came for me," I continued. "Three of them. They ambushed me right inside my apartment. They had guns. They had knives and the type of ruthless training that only came from years of professional killing."I paused, closing my eyes for a brief moment. I took a shaky breath. The memories were flooding back now, sharp and painful and impossible to ignore."I was coming home from work. It was late at night. The streets outside were completely quiet. I had my keys in my hand, my bag on my shoulder, and my mind on the next day's tasks. I did not see them coming. I did not hear them approaching. They were just there, waiting for me in the hallway."I closed my eyes tighter. The memories were so vivid that it felt like I was living through them all over again."The first one grabbed me from behind. He put his hand over my mouth so I could not scream out. The second one snatched my bag away. The third one just stood there, watching me with a smile on his face that made
Celestine started cooking at three in the afternoon, flour on her hands, music playing low from her phone and the smell of tomatoes and garlic filling the whole penthouse.She made the sauce from scratch, the way her grandmother taught her when she was maybe ten years old. She rolled out the pasta
The first time Kier met Sable Morwenna was at a charity gala about six months after his father died.He was standing by the bar, looking miserable, drinking too much and wishing he could leave. And then this woman just appeared next to him, like she had materialized out of thin air."You look like
Kier Thornwell looked like he belonged on a magazine cover even when he was just standing in an elevator. Thirty eight years old. Strong jaw and sharp cheekbones. Eyes so dark brown they looked black. A mouth that rarely smiled, but when it did, women forgot their own names. Six foot two. Carried h
The forgotten anniversaries. There had been three of those. Three times she had dressed up nice and made dinner and waited and waited and waited until finally getting a text that said "working late sorry" with no exclamation points, no emojis, no nothing.The cruel comments. Those were worse."You







