ログインNico's POV The moment I step into the arena, my throat goes dry—and not the normal dry of being in the midst of dozens of criminals. No, it's the I might drop dead and die in front of hundreds of mafia bosses kind of dry.Perfect. Exactly how I imagined my night going.The double doors are open, light spilling into the hallway. And every inch of me is vibrating, like someone plugged a live wire into me.And something that I find dangerously funny is the fact that I already feel him. I can't see him yet, but it's like my whole body is aware of his presence.That sharp, precise, terrifying awareness you get from someone who has already branded themselves into your nervous system and made it impossible for you to exist without them being near.My hand tightens around the wrist of the woman standing beside me. Not because I want to, but because if I don't, I might grab onto the wall and slide down like a Victorian widow.I inhale slowly and exhale fast. I do it once, twice, three times.
Sasha's POV Seven months of trying to forget, erased in one heartbeat.He’s in a black suit tailored the way sin is tailored—sharp lines, clean edges, a silhouette I know too well. His shirt is open at the throat, no tie, because he’s always been allergic to rules. The Vescari crest ring catches the torchlight. His hair is a little longer. Darker.Messier, like he ran his hand through it on the way in. His jaw is sharper, clenched like he's chewing his own thoughts. There's a faint bruise at his collarbone that sends a shiver running through me. I did that.And his face, fuck. I feel like a druggie who just got his first hit in weeks.The relief.It hits me like a gut punch and makes me fucking hazy.Seven months of noise in my head, seven months of rage and denial, all of it goes quiet like someone finally turned the volume down in a storm I didn't know how to shut off. And it feels fucking addictive.His eyes sweep the room, bored and cold. For one second I swear he looks the same
SashaThe arena is a bit too warm, a bit too bright and fucking alive. I hate it already.Everything smells like salt and old money—washed so many times it’s lost its shine. Jasmine clings to the air, mixed with cigarette smoke and the faint copper scent of blood no one cared to clean. The terrace is marble and torchlight, built on lies stacked over more lies. Everyone here smiles with the kind of teeth that have torn someone open.Aiden stands half a step behind my left as always. It's funny how I've gotten used to that even though there was once a time when we were taken away from each other. He's like my right hand man, always watching my blind side. He's drinking vodka, which I think is a bad idea seeing as we're currently in the midst of wolves, but Aiden wouldn't give a shit about that.I'm holding a glass of water which I have no intention of tasting.Boris and the other guards are positioned in every corner of this room and yet, I still have this feeling that something is comin
NicoThe good thing about being the Don? The whispers move at supersonic speed.And right now, rumor has it that there is to be a grand Greek gathering.It would seem my old friend the universe still has some tricks up it's sleeves.I mean, Greek lands is mutual territory right? Should be peaceful.It would be peaceful if my insides hasn't been churning non stop.Not because the event is obviously a dick measuring contest or because I will not have any other choice but to attend. What got my brain working overtime is the possibilities of seeing Sasha there.I continue staring at the gold embossed crest on the invitation card while my chest threatens to beat out of my chest.Just cancel, some might suggest. Trust me, I would love to, nothing would make me happier than to make a lousy excuse and write a fake apology letter.I would cancel if Giuseppe wasn't sitting directly in front of me with a look that leaves no room for excuses.I'm starting to feel like he's working with the univer
SASHAThe restraints loosen and fall away, but Sorrelina doesn't make an attempt to step back. Her small hands remain steady on my arms while her eyes remain locked on mine.And fuck if they don't remind me of Nico's. The room feels smaller now. We’re in her therapy suite, or whatever the hell she calls this place.“My father was here last week,” I say, my voice rough. “Running his mouth about shit he shouldn’t know.”Mostly, I didn't give a shit about what he said and mentally blocked him out the whole time he was here.Sorrelina circles me for a while then stops by my side, her head cocked by the side as if she's trying to measure out how much more I can take.She's got something up her sleeve. That's for sure.I just don't know what.“Up,” she finally commands, her voice firm. “Get up, Sasha.” She hauls me to my feet, as if she doesn't fucking realize how weak and disoriented I am.I don't know what the fuck she put me on but it's made me so drowsy I can't even see straight. When I
SASHA The grand salon of the Vescari estate glittered under a thousand crystal facets, an overfed chandelier bleeding light across marble floors polished enough to reflect ghosts.It was a spectacle Giuseppe had organised with such fanfare you would think it almost meant something to me.The tables were drowned in gold and white linens and were filled with overflowing platters, crystal decanters, and nauseating excess.The air was thick with murmurs in different languages. One of them, unmistakably, was Russian.I tried my best not to search for him, not to give away the fact that I hoped he was here, but I could not help frantically scanning every cluster of bodies, every shadowed corner.Sasha was not there, and although it should not have hit like a blade to the ribs, it still carved something hollow in me.A hundred souls filled the vaulted space. This was no mere dinner, it was meant to be a coronation, a warning to other families that the Vescari heir had been crowned.If only







