Fernando’s POVThe wood beneath me was cold, but the heat radiating from Michael’s skin was enough to burn through it, straight into me. My hand remained under his jaw, fingers angled upward, forcing his face to tilt toward mine. He didn’t flinch away from my touch, not completely—oh no, Michael was far too stubborn for that—but I felt the twitch of muscle under his skin, the faintest tremor that betrayed the storm he tried to hide.“Archer Graves,” I murmured, my voice a low growl, tasting the name like poison.Michael’s eyes flickered, just for a second, and I caught it—the hesitation, the recognition.So he knew.The realization stirred the predator in me. I leaned in closer, my breath brushing against his lips. “You’ve been asking me about him, circling the subject like a vulture. Don’t insult me by pretending it’s concern.”His voice was tight when he answered. “I’m not circling anything. I want to know if you remember. That’s all.”“That’s all?” I laughed, humorless, the sou
Micheal's POV Henry’s little feet slapped the polished floor before I could even take a breath.“Michael!” he shouted, his small voice echoing through the large meeting room.Before I knew it, his arms were wrapped tight around my waist, squeezing me with all the strength his tiny frame could muster. My body went rigid for half a second—caught between shock and relief—before instinct took over and I sank to my knees, crushing him against me, breathing in the scent of his soft hair.“Henry,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “God, I missed you.”“I missed you too,” he mumbled into my shirt, holding on as if letting go would mean losing me again.The ache in my chest sharpened. It had only been two days since Fernando had ripped him from me on the beach, but it felt like a lifetime. Seeing Henry’s small body pressed into my arms again was both salvation and torture.From the corner of my eye, I caught Fernando. He stood near the massive mahogany desk, Marlo beside him. Fernando’s pos
Fernando’s POVThe steady, deliberate tick of the clock in my office was the only sound competing with the muffled laughter of children drifting from the far corner of the room. The tick wasn’t loud, but in moments like this, it felt as if it punctuated every breath, every beat in the unspoken power game unfolding across my desk. The air was thick with the warm scent of polished mahogany and the faint bite of cigar smoke curling toward the high ceiling.Henry should have been in school, but he wasn’t.He was here, sitting cross-legged on the thick Persian rug, his dark hair falling over his forehead as he stared at the pile of miniature soldiers scattered between him and Javier Martinez’s son, Diego. Javier had insisted on bringing the boy along, saying it would “be good for them to play.” I had had my doubts. In my world, men brought children into meetings for one of two reasons: to distract, or to make a point.Across the table, Javier’s smile was just a little too wide, the kin
Michael’s POV The heat of the air rose in waves, mixing with the bitter scent of exhaust fumes and old coffee spilling from somewhere near the dumpsters. I could hear the muted hum of the city just beyond the wall of Kafé Verse’s parking lot. But right here, right now, the world felt fixed into one narrow stretch of ground between me and Archer.He stood with two of his bodyguards flanking him — one on each side like they were there to keep him from stepping out of line, but I knew better. They were here to make sure I didn’t. The taller one wore mirrored sunglasses even though the sun had dipped behind thick clouds; the other kept his hands folded loosely in front of him, a show of casualness that I knew was a lie.Archer had that half-smirk he always wore when he thought he had the upper hand, his expensive coat collar pulled up against a wind that wasn’t even there. His eyes didn’t blink much but they stayed on me, sharp, waiting.And I hated that his words from earlier still e
Michael’s POV The moment Archer stepped through the café door, the air thickened and it felt like the entire world around me had suddenly gone still.I wasn’t afraid of him—not in the way most people were—but that didn’t mean my pulse didn’t kick into overdrive. My fingers curled into my palms under the counter, but this wasn’t fear; it was something colder. A sharpened awareness.Because I knew more than anyone in this room how much Archer hated me.Not the petty, eye-roll kind of hate. No—his was the kind you nurtured, fed, and kept alive for long time, waiting for the right moment to use it. I had suspected that he was the one who sent the sniper to Ashley’s apartment that day to shoot me but it had hit Fernando instead.It was meant for me but the sniper had missed, hitting Fernando instead. The impact had sent him crashing to the ground, his head smacking the concrete. And just like that, ten months of his memory were gone.Archer knew exactly what that accident had done—to me
Michael’s POV The sun felt wrong today.I don’t mean it was too hot or too bright—it just… didn’t belong. It entered through the blinds of Ashley’s apartment in long, slanted lines that landed across the sofa where I sat hunched over, staring at the floor. The warmth on my skin was useless. It couldn’t seep deep enough to reach the cold inside me.It had been one day—twenty-four hours—since Fernando had taken Henry away.My chest tightened as the memory replayed for the hundredth time. The beach. Henry’s small hand slipping from mine. Fernando’s voice, too calm for someone who had just torn my world in half.I rubbed my temples and let out a low breath that came out more like a growl.I was never the kind of man to admit defeat, but right now? The weight of failure sat like a stone in my gut.The sound of clinking dishes broke through my thoughts. Ashley was in the kitchen, moving with her usual efficiency, her hair tied up and her work clothes already on.“Michael?” Her voice was