LOGINChloe’s POV
The 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 purs
Chloe’s POVSaturday morning, I finally called Alina.I’d been putting it off, crafting the perfect “I’m totally fine” script in my head. But Friday night I’d had a panic attack so bad I’d seriously considered using Lucian’s number, and I knew I couldn’t keep pretending anymore.The video call connected, and Alina’s face filled my screen. She looked tired but happy, baby Elena visible over her shoulder in a bouncer.“Chloe!” She grinned. “Finally. I was starting to think you’d fallen off the face of the earth.”“Sorry. Work’s been crazy.”“Uh huh.” She tilted her head, studying me. “What’s wrong?”“Nothing’s…”“Don’t.” She cut me off. “I can see it on your face. What’s wrong? And don’t say ‘nothing.’”I laug
Chloe’s POVThe blue sedan appeared again on Thursday.I’d convinced myself I was being paranoid. Seattle was a big city. Lots of blue sedans. Just because I’d seen the same one near my apartment, near my office, near the coffee shop didn’t mean anything.Except now it was parked across from the grocery store, and I was pretty sure the driver was watching me.My heart hammered as I pushed my cart toward the entrance. Don’t look. Don’t react. Maybe it’s nothing.But my hands shook as I grabbed a basket instead of a cart. Easier to run with a basket if I needed to.Jesus, listen to yourself. You’re losing it.I moved through the store quickly, grabbing essentials. Milk, eggs, bread, coffee. My new tattoo itched under its bandage, a constant reminder of Dominic’s words: You survived.Yeah, well, survival felt a lot more precarious when someone might be following you.I c
Lucian’s POVI didn’t usually hang out at coffee shops near the hospital. Too many medical students trying to cram for exams, too many residents comparing horror stories from their shifts. I preferred my coffee at home, in silence, before the chaos of the ER.But I’d been working double shifts all week, and my coffee maker had died that morning, so here I was at Java Junction at seven AM on a Tuesday, waiting in line behind what felt like half of Seattle.That’s when I saw her.Chloe Martinez, the mugging victim from a week ago, was standing by the window with a to-go cup in her hands. She wasn’t drinking it. Just staring out at the street, completely still except for the slight tremor in her fingers.I almost didn’t approach. She’d been discharged from observation with standard concussion protocol, follow-up recommended but not required. My job was done.But something about the way she stood there—tense, hyper-aware, like she was waiting for something bad to happen—made me change my
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
He made a sound low in his throat, almost a growl. The strategist, the planner, the always-in-control Ronan vanished. In his place was a man stripped bare of pretense. He yanked my shirt over my head and tossed it aside. His eyes drank me in, dark and intense. Then his mouth was on my neck, sucking
Alina’s POV - Two Weeks LaterMy new job as a consultant started with learning how the club actually worked. Ronan showed me their different businesses, some legal, some not and he explained how they made money, what could get them in trouble, and what might be against the law.
Alina’s POVChloe’s last day in Chicago was bittersweet. We’d packed her entire life into boxes now loaded in a moving truck, ready for the drive to Seattle. Her new job, new apartment, and new life waited for her across the country.“You don’t have to
Alina's POVClasses started properly the next day. I’d enrolled in three courses—Criminal Justice, English Composition, and Introduction to Psychology. Basic stuff to ease back into academic life after months of chaos and violence.The Criminal Justice classroom was in a







