LOGIN"Sign the papers, Zack. Three years was the deal. I’m done being your sanctuary." Zack stared at the man who had dragged him out of the dirt and taught him how to breathe again. Nathan Durand, the crown prince of the Cocolink syndicate, stood like a monolith of ice, his silver eyes devoid of the heat that usually scorched Zack’s skin in the dark. "Is it because of her?" Zack’s voice was a jagged glass fragment. "Because Madeline is back?" "It’s because you’re a liability," Nathan snapped, his jaw tight enough to crack bone. "I need a partner who carries a blade, not a ghost who jumps at shadows." THE BLURB Broken. Sold. Silent. Zackary Moreau spent a decade rotting in a basement, a secret prisoner of a man who used his rare bloodline as a laboratory experiment. When he finally breaks free, he doesn’t find liberty—he finds Nathan Durand. The lethal heir to the Cocolink mafia empire is everything Zack should fear: possessive, violent, and cold. But Nathan offers a bargain Zack can’t refuse: three years of marriage in exchange for a name that keeps the world at bay. Saved. Owned. Obsessed. For three years, they lived a lie that felt dangerously like a life. Nathan turned the shivering boy into a man of the syndicate, protecting him with a brutality that bordered on madness. But as the contract’s end date looms, the shadows return. Rival bosses want Zack’s blood, and a woman from Nathan’s past is back to claim the throne. On the eve of their anniversary, Nathan delivers the final blow: he wants a divorce.
View MoreThe morning sun over Havenfall didn't feel like a threat anymore. It hit the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Cocolink estate, warming the dark hardwood where Eliza was currently busy lining up plastic dinosaurs.Zack leaned against the kitchen island, his hands wrapped around a mug of herbal tea. He was nearly at his limit, his center of gravity completely shifted by the twin boys who seemed determined to use his ribs as a speed bag. The sharp, tailored suits had been replaced by oversized cashmere sweaters and joggers, a soft contrast to the heavy Glock resting on the counter just out of reach of the child.A pair of heavy, scarred arms slid around his waist. Nathan’s chest was a solid wall against Zack’s back, his chin findng its usual spot on Zack’s shoulder."They're quiet today," Nathan murmured, his voice still thick with sleep. He splayed his large palms over Zack’s stomach, waiting."They’re plotting," Zack rasped, leaning his head back against Nathan’s throat. "Just like thei
Nathan gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles a bloodless white against the black leather. Outside, the jagged mountain peaks of the Havenfall perimeter sliced through a bruised purple sky. He didn't look over. He didn't have to. The silence in the cabin was thick, vibrating with the ghost of the violence they’d left behind in the Ivy Syndicate’s territory.In the back seat, Ethan Cole—Zack’s father—was out cold, his head lolling against the window. Behind them, a second blacked-out SUV trailed like a shadow, hauling the heavy weight of Madeline and Caleb in their final boxes. The victory tasted like copper and ash."Why the hell are you wearing that face?" Zack asked. He shifted in the passenger seat, his hand resting instinctively over the heavy swell of his stomach. His gaze was a sharp blade, cutting through Nathan’s internal static.Nathan let out a breath that sounded like a tire blowing out. He rubbed the back of his neck, his skin clammy. "It’s nothing.""Like hell. You're t
NathanI never intended for the hunt to last this long. When I pulled out of Havenfall, I figured I’d be gone a few weeks, crack Julian Wright’s skull, and be back in the city before Zack’s midsection started straining against his tailored shirts. Maybe I was a delusional prick. The reality was a blood-soaked nightmare that didn't go according to the blueprint.Twelve hours have passed since the Ivy syndicate imploded. I’m still horizontal in this hotel bed, paralyzed by the sheer fact that we’re breathing. Zack is a warm weight against my side, his breath hitching rhythmically, and our sons are growing in his gut. I still don’t know how we walked out of that palace without body bags. Not all of us did. The ghosts of Madeline and Ethan Cole are already haunting the corners of the room, though Zack hasn't even let himself feel the sting of their blood on his hands yet. We’ve got time for the grieving later. Right now, time is the only thing we actually own.We need to get back to Haven
The weight of the silence after the gunfire was the heaviest thing in the room. I stood over Madeline’s cooling body, my pulse a rhythmic drumming in my ears that drowned out the world. I’d known rage—the kind that burned hot and fast—but this was a frozen, crystalline fury. It was a righteous venom. Looking at Julian, I didn’t just want him gone. I wanted to be the last thing he ever saw.I stood up. The air in the throne room seemed to thicken, responding to the jagged electricity snapping under my skin. I didn't think. I just reached for that well of power Madeline had taught me to find, and it didn't just flow—it erupted.The shadows from the corners of the hall didn't just crawl; they lashed out like whips of obsidian. They tangled with a blinding, white-hot light that felt like static on a television screen. This wasn't a "shimmer" or a "dance." It was a storm. A bolt of black-and-white lightning tore across the marble, slamming into Julian's guards. They didn't just fall; they
The sky over the Havenfall harbor doesn't just break; it detonates. A jagged spear of lightning rips through the charcoal clouds, the subsequent thunder rattling the glass in the high-rise balconies. Zack doesn’t stop. He hits the pavement of the industrial district at a dead sprint, his boots skid
The neon signs of the empty cafe buzzed, a sharp, artificial hum that grated on Zack’s raw nerves. He leaned against the cold industrial fridge in the kitchen, his breath hitching as Nathan’s heavy boots thudded against the linoleum."What did I just do?" Zack whispered, the words catching in his d
Nathan’s face didn't just crack; it disintegrated. The cold, aristocratic mask he wore like armor shattered, leaving behind something raw, jagged, and terrifying. He stared at Zack as if the man had just transformed into a ghost."Nate, they need it now," Ethan Cole snapped. His voice was a whip-cr
The kitchen was a slaughterhouse of shattered porcelain and splintered mahogany. Nathan didn’t see the mess; he saw the crimson blooming on Zack’s pale shoulder.Ethan Cole had lunged in a frantic, uncoordinated fit of rage, and his personal guard—five shadows in tailored suits—had followed like a






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