Mag-log inLater that afternoon I found Chloe in the library, surrounded by boxes and packing materials. She was leaving for Seattle tomorrow, starting her new job, beginning her fresh start away from all this chaos.
“So you’re really staying,” she said when I entered. It wasn't a question.
“I’m really staying,” I confirmed, sitting beside her. “I tried the normal thing. It didn’t fit. This does.”
“I’m happy for you,&
Dominic’s POVI couldn’t stop thinking about her.Three days since Chloe walked into my shop, and I’d sketched that damn bird at least twenty more times. Each version slightly different, trying to capture the exact look in her eyes when I’d told her she was still in a cage.Hurt. Angry. Terrified that I was right.I’d seen that look before, in the mirror, back when I was in the system. Foster kid bouncing between homes, trying to convince everyone I was fine when I was drowning.She’d walked out of my shop, and I’d told myself it was better this way. She wasn’t ready for the tattoo, wasn’t ready to face whatever she was running from.But I couldn’t stop seeing her face.Tuesday afternoon, I was working on a client’s sleeve when the bell chimed.“Be right there,” I called, not looking up.“Take your time.”I froze.That
Marcus’s POVThe first time I saw her, she didn’t see me.That was the point of my job—observe without being observed, protect without being noticed. Ghost in the machine. Shadow in the corner.I’d been hired by Adrian Winters three days ago. Tech CEO, running a startup that was about to go public, apparently pissed off the wrong investor. Death threats had escalated from emails to a brick through his office window.Standard protection detail: assess vulnerabilities, tighten security, identify threats.What I hadn’t expected was her.Chloe Martinez, according to the employee roster. Junior Marketing Associate. Twenty-two, originally from Chicago, moved to Seattle six months ago. Her file was thin—no criminal record, no red flags, nothing that should have caught my attention.But she did anyway.I was in Adrian’s office reviewing security camera footage when she appeared on screen, leaving the building late. Alone. Through a parking garage that was poorly lit and had exactly zero secur
Chloe’s POVThe universe had a terrible sense of humor.Two days after the tattoo shop disaster, I was working late again. Marketing campaigns didn’t write themselves, apparently, and Adrian needed the social media strategy completed by morning.By the time I finally saved the document and shut down my computer, the office was empty. The cleaning crew had already been through, leaving that antiseptic smell and perfectly aligned chairs.I grabbed my purse, locked up, and headed for the parking garage.Seattle at night was different than Chicago. Quieter, in some ways. The streets didn’t have that same constant hum of danger I’d gotten used to. I’d told myself that was better. Safer.Turned out safe was relative.I was halfway to my car when I heard footsteps behind me. Fast footsteps.My self-defense instincts—learned from watching Alina train with the Serpents kicked in. I spun around just as
Chloe’s POVI woke up Saturday morning with a terrible idea.The smart thing would have been to go for a run, meal prep for the week, maybe deep clean my apartment. Responsible adult things.Instead, I found myself Googling “tattoo shops near me” at nine in the morning.I’d never gotten a tattoo. Never wanted one. My mom would have killed me, and besides, tattoos were permanent. Commitment. No taking them back if you changed your mind.But that morning, scrolling through photos of other people’s ink, I thought: Maybe that’s exactly what I need. Something permanent. Proof that I’m different now. That Chicago changed me.The search results showed dozens of shops, but one caught my eye: Ink & Iron. The photos showed dark walls, vintage furniture, and artwork that looked more like gallery pieces than flash sheets. The neighborhood was rough—South Seattle, definitely not the trendy area my cowor
Chloe’s POVSix months in Seattle, and I still wasn’t sure if I’d made the right choice.My apartment was nice enough—small studio in Capitol Hill with a view of a brick wall, but the rent was reasonable and the neighborhood was supposedly trendy. The kind of place a twenty-two-year-old starting fresh was supposed to want.I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, forcing my face into something resembling a smile. Professional. Friendly. Exactly the kind of person who loved their job at a tech startup and definitely wasn’t dying inside.“You’ve got this,” I toldmy reflection.My reflection looked unconvinced.The InnovateTech office was everything a modern workplace was supposed to be—open floor plan, bean bag chairs in the “creativity corner,” a kit stocked with kombucha and organic snacks nobody actually ate. My coworkers were nice. My boss, Adrian Winters, was a dec
Maddox’s POV – Six Weeks Later Elena came home on a Tuesday. Six weeks in the NICU. Six weeks of learning, growing, fighting her way to strength. And finally, finally, she was strong enough to leave. The entire club gathered when we arrived at the compound with her. Not crowding, just… present. Witnessing the newest member of our family coming home. “She’s so small,” Blade’s wife whispered. “Almost six pounds now,” Alina said proudly. “Growing every day.” We’d converted Ronan’s old office into a temporary nursery closer to our bedroom. The big nursery upstairs would wait until Elena was older, and stronger. For now, we wanted her close. That first night home was chaos. Elena cried a lot. We took turns trying to comfort her, feed her, change her, and figure out what she needed. By three AM, all four of us were exhausted and slightly hysterical. “How do people do this?” Jaxon asked, pacing with Elena while she screamed. “I have no idea,” I admitted. “Maybe we should
I turned to face him fully, taking his face in my hands, making him look at me. “You’re not going to lose me. I’m right here. I’m alive. I’m staying.”“You don’t know that,” he said desperately. “You can’t promise you’
Her answer was to take my hands and place them on the bottom of her sweater, guiding me as I lifted it over her head. The moonlight from the library window caught her skin, painting her in silver and shadow. She was beautiful, and for a moment, I just stared, my throat tight.“You’re shaking,” she
Alina’s POV - Three AMThe screaming woke me from a dead sleep.Not loud screaming—Jaxon was too cool for that, even in nightmares. But I’d grown a sixth sense for the sounds of the three men who’d become my world, and I knew immediately something was wrong.I grabbed a robe and padded down the hal
Maddox’s POVShe’d been distant. Not obviously—Alina was good at pretending everything was fine. But I’d spent months learning to read her, and I knew when something was off.It had been two weeks since the Vulture ambush. She’d thrown herself into work







