LOGINCillian
The flowers are already in her room when I find out. Of course they are. Nothing about Kenji Takahashi is accidental. I don’t touch them at first. I just stand there, looking at the arrangement sitting on her table like it belongs in this place. White orchids. Clean. Precise. Expensive. Calculated.
Everything about him is.
“Who let these in?” I ask, my voice flat.
Liam is behind me. “T
CillianThe noise doesn’t matter. The screaming. The shattered glass. The chaos is ripping through the restaurant like it’s still alive. None of it matters. Because she’s gone. And someone is still breathing who shouldn’t be. I don’t leave. I don’t chase the exit. I don’t run after ghosts. I turn. Slow. Controlled. Deadly.“There,” Liam says, already dragging a man across the floor by the collar.Blood streaks across the tiles behind him. The man is half-conscious, face already swollen, one eye barely open. Good. Not enough.“Alive?” I ask.“For now.”Ronan appears from the side, cracking his knuckles, jaw tight with barely contained violence.“He’s one of them,” he mutters. “Didn’t make it far.”Perfect. I step closer. The man tries to move. Tries to crawl. Pathetic.
ElenaSomething feels… off. I don’t know when it starts. Maybe it’s the way the room is too quiet. Or the way everyone is pretending it’s not. Cillian and Kenji Takahashi are talking across from me, voices low, controlled, like every word matters more than it sounds.I try to follow. Numbers. Routes. Something about shipments. But my attention keeps drifting. Not to the conversation. To the room. To the way the staff move. To the way the guards stand just a little too stiff. To the feeling crawling up my spine. I shift slightly in my chair. Cillian notices. Of course he does.His hand brushes my knee under the table. Subtle. Grounding. Stay. I don’t look at him. But I still. Kenji’s gaze flicks to me again. Too observant. Too aware.“You’re distracted,” he says calmly.“I’m listening,&r
ElenaI didn’t expect to feel like this again. Nervous. Not scared. Not uncertain. Just… aware. Of everything. The room feels quieter tonight as I stand in front of the mirror, fingers smoothing over the fabric of my dress. It’s different from the gala, still elegant, still fitted, but darker. More controlled.More him. My reflection stares back at me, and for a second, I don’t fully recognize her. Not the girl from the bookstore. Not the one trying to survive day by day. This version of me, she knows she’s being watched. Judged. Measured. And somehow… she’s still standing. My breath leaves slowly.“You’re thinking too much.” His voice is low. Right behind me.I don’t turn immediately.“I’m going to dinner with a man you don’t trust,” I reply. “I think I’m allowed.”A faint huff of amusement brushes the air behind me.“T
CillianThe flowers are already in her room when I find out. Of course they are. Nothing about Kenji Takahashi is accidental. I don’t touch them at first. I just stand there, looking at the arrangement sitting on her table like it belongs in this place. White orchids. Clean. Precise. Expensive. Calculated.Everything about him is.“Who let these in?” I ask, my voice flat.Liam is behind me. “They were delivered through the main desk,” he says. “Cleared as a priority package.”Of course they were. I step closer slowly, my gaze dropping to the card tucked between the stems. I already know it’s from him. I don’t need to read it to know. But I do anyway. “For the woman who doesn’t fear dangerous men”.My jaw tightens. There’s more.“Dinner. Tonight. You and her. Consider it… a continuation of our conv
CillianI know something’s wrong the second I walk in. It’s not loud. Not obvious. But the air feels… off. The kind of tension that lingers after something has already happened.Liam is in the main room. Alone. That’s the first problem.“Where is she?” I ask, already moving.“In her room.”That makes me stop. Not because she’s there, but because of how he said it. Too controlled. Too measured.“What happened?”A beat passes, then he speaks, “She was approached.”Everything in me stills. Slowly. Dangerously.“By who?”“A journalist,” Liam says. “Bookstore.”My jaw tightens. Of course, it was the bookstore. Of course, it was the one place she’d feel safe.“What did she say?”“Nothing,” he replies. “
ElenaI wake up restless. Not the usual kind. Not the kind that fades after a shower, or a coffee, or pretending everything is fine. This one sits under my skin. Scratching. Pushing. Making the walls feel too close.I stare at the ceiling for a long second, then turn my head toward the window. The city is already awake. Moving. Living.And I’m trapped. My jaw tightens. I swing my legs out of bed, running a hand through my hair as I stand. I don’t bother looking for Cillian. He’s either in his office… or already gone.Either way… Same result. I step out into the main space, barefoot, arms crossed loosely over myself, trying to ignore the way the penthouse suddenly feels too quiet. Too controlled. Too his.Liam is already there. Of course he is. Leaning slightly against the wall like he’s been there for hours, watching everything without looking like he is.His eyes lift when I enter. “Morning.
CillianSomething’s off. I feel it before I see it. It starts as a shift. Subtle. A change in the rhythm of the room. Conversations still flowing, laughter still echoing, glasses still clinking, but underneath it, something is wrong.My attention sharpens instantly. I don’t stop spe
ElenaI stare at myself in the mirror and barely recognize the woman looking back at me. The dress is black. Of course it is. Not soft black. Not simple black. It’s the kind that clings in all the right places and makes me look like I belong somewhere far more expensive than any place I’ve
CillianI don’t sleep. Not really. Even when I close my eyes, my mind doesn’t stop. It runs through plans, contingencies, and outcomes. Every angle. Every possibility.And now, every way this ends with De Santis on his knees. I stand in the center of the warehouse, hands in my pocke
ElenaI didn’t expect the gun to feel this heavy. It sits in my hands like something alive. Dangerous. Real in a way that nothing else has ever felt before. My fingers tighten slightly around it, unsure, my pulse picking up as I stare down at it.“This isn’t a toy.







