LOGINDominic’s POVI pushed inside her—slow, inch by inch, feeling her stretch around me. Her mouth fell open. A sound came out, something between a gasp and a moan, and her nails dug into my shoulders hard enough to draw blood."Fuck," she whispered. "Dominic… you're so…""Am I hurting you?""No. God, no. Don't stop. Please don't stop."I bottomed out inside her, and we both stilled for a moment, breathing each other's air, foreheads pressed together. Her walls fluttered around me, adjusting to my size. She was so tight. So warm. So perfect."You okay?" I asked."More than okay." She kissed me, soft and sweet. "Move. Please."I did.I pulled out slow, then pushed back in, setting a rhythm that was deep and deliberate. Each thrust made her gasp. Each withdrawal made her whimper. Her legs tightened around my waist, pulling me deeper, and I groaned against her neck."Like that?" I asked.
Dominic’s POVChloe had been staying at my loft for two days, and I was losing my mind.Not because she was difficult or demanding. Because she was there—in my space, wearing my clothes when she ran out of clean ones, curled up on my couch reading while I painted, making coffee in my kitchen like she belonged there.And God, I wanted her to belong there.It was past midnight on her second night. She sat on the floor near my easel, watching me work on a new piece. I’d offered her the couch, but she preferred being close.“Can you teach me?” she asked suddenly.I looked down at her. “To paint?”“Yeah. I want to try.”I shouldn’t have said yes. Painting was intimate for me—putting my trauma on canvas, processing emotions through art. Teaching someone meant sharing that vulnerability.But I grabbed a fresh canvas anyway.“Come here.”She stood, and I positioned her in front of the blank space. Handed her a brush.“What do I paint?” she asked.“Whatever you feel.”“I feel scared.”“Then pa
Marcus’s POVRonan called me back forty-eight hours after our last conversation.“Got your intel,” he said without preamble. “You’re not going to like it.”I was in my apartment, monitoring security feeds from Chloe’s location. Currently at Dominic’s loft, safe, sleeping based on the lack of movement.“Tell me.”“Three Vulture remnants operating in Seattle. Orion Kozlov, Dorian Volkov, and Nikolai Petrov. All former enforcers, all loyal to Iron Mike Morrison even after his imprisonment.”“Morrison. The one who killed Alina’s mother.”“The same. He blamed Alina for his life sentence, and by extension, anyone close to her. These three are looking for revenge through proxy.”“Their plan?”“From what my sources gathered, they want to grab Chloe, use her as bait to lure Alina to Seattle, then kill both of th
Chloe’s POVOne week of rotating between three apartments, and I was losing my mind.Not from the fear—though that was constant, a low hum of anxiety I couldn’t shake. But from the weirdness of living out of a suitcase, never settling, always moving.Two nights at Dominic’s loft, painting into the early hours and falling asleep on his couch.Two nights at Marcus’s apartment, learning self-defense and feeling safe in his quiet, controlled space.Two nights at Lucian’s condo, talking until dawn about everything and nothing.Each place felt like home and felt like exile simultaneously.Thursday night I was at Lucian’s, and something inside me finally cracked.I’d been holding it together all week—going through motions, pretending I was fine, forcing smiles when the men asked how I was doing. But that night, staring at Lucian’s guest room ceiling, I felt the weight of ever
Dominic’s POVThe next morning, I met Marcus and Lucian at a coffee shop two blocks from my studio.Chloe was still asleep in my loft, exhausted from days of fear and stress. I’d left her a note: *Went to get breakfast. Back soon. Doors locked. You’re safe.*Now I sat across from two men who technically were my competition, feeling territorial and aggressive and trying very hard to be professional.“Thanks for meeting,” Marcus said, pulling out a tablet. “We need to establish protocols.”“Protocols?” I repeated. “For what?”“For protecting Chloe. Coordinating our efforts. Making sure we’re not creating gaps in security.”“Or fighting over her like dogs over a bone,” Lucian added dryly.I bristled. “I’m not fighting over anyone.”“Aren’t you?” Marcus looked at me. “You offered her your
Chloe’s POVMarcus didn’t waste time.The morning after the threatening phone call, he showed up at my apartment at seven AM with coffee and a grim expression.“Pack a bag,” he said without preamble. “You’re not staying here.”I stared at him from my doorway, still in pajamas, hair a mess. “Excuse me?”“Your apartment is compromised. Ground floor, windows facing the street, no security system. You might as well hang a sign that says ‘easy target.’”“This is my home.”“This is a death trap.” He pushed past me into the apartment, already assessing. “How fast can you pack?”“Marcus, you can’t just…”“I can and I am. We talked about this last night. The threat is real and immediate. You need to be somewhere secure.”“Where? A bunker?”“Funny.&rd
Ronan’s POV All three of us plus Blade sat around the table, reviewing the evidence. Financial records, communications, photographs of documents, audio recording of Tommy’s conversation. It was damning. Absolutely, unquestionably damning.“He’s been stealing from us for over a year and a half,” I
Alina’s POVThe interrogation room where they had taken Tommy looked like something straight out of a crime TV show. It had cold, bare concrete walls and a single metal chair fixed to the floor, with a drain in the center that I tried not to think about. Tommy was sitting in that cha
Ronan’s POVThe main hall was packed by seven AM—every available Serpent crammed into the space, sitting on chairs, standing against walls, perched on tables. The energy was tense, filled with anticipation. Word had spread that this was an emergency meeting about “critica
Ronan’s POV - The Next MorningTommy brought up a serious topic during the morning meeting. “We need to talk about Chloe,” he said, keeping his tone calm but looking around with a keen eye.“What about her?” Jaxon asked, sounding cautious.“She's a civilian caught in a war zone,” Tommy replied. “Th







