LOGINThe 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 The sharp, tailored suits had been replaced by oversized cashmere sweaters and joggers, a soft contrast to the heavy Glock resting on the counter just out of reach of the child.A pair of heavy, scarred arms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
"Where?" Zack's voice was a jagged edge of glass. He scanned the chaos, the throne room's gilded pillars mocking his panic. "Where the hell did he go?""Nathan's orders were to pull you out, Zack." Madeline stood firm, though her eyes flickered with a rebellious spark. She didn't look like someone planning to obey. "Then again, I’m just an old woman and you’ve always been a brat. You could easily knock me aside and go after them.""Them?" Zack’s heart hammered a frantic rhythm. "He’s not taking Wright on alone?""No." A voice like grinding stones surfaced from the shadows. The man who had been at Madeline’s side stepped forward, blood staining his cuffs from the guards he’d just silenced.Zack froze. He studied the man. Sixty, maybe more. Hair like scorched silver. The gaunt, hollowed-out frame of someone who had survived on nothing but spite and shadows for decades. There was a haunting familiarity in the set of his jaw. The man looked at Zack as if he were a miracle or a ghost, his
The screech of the iron sirens tore through the silence of Havenfall, a high-pitched wail that felt like a serrated blade dragging across Zack’s nerves. He groaned, eyes snapping open, and slammed a heavy pillow over his face to drown out the noise. It was too early for this shit.The heavy oak door to his suite hit the wall with a crack. Marcus, a young kid in a servant's vest, poked his head in, his face the color of bleached bone. He didn't wait for permission. He lunged across the room, hauling Zack out of the silk sheets and shoving a heavy leather jacket into his hands."What's the hit?" Zack demanded, his voice gravelly."Lockdown, sir," Marcus stammered, his fingers fumbling as he tried to help Zack with the jacket. "The Boss issued the order. Total blackout. The entire estate is sealing up."Zack shoved the kid’s hands away. Julian Wright—the man who kept him in this gilded cage—didn't lock down for a fire. He locked down for a war. "Did Julian tell you to come for me persona
I woke before the sun, but I wasn't alone. The mattress dipped under a heavy weight near my hip. In the suffocating dark of the penthouse, the sharp silhouette of a man sat on the edge of the bed.Nathan.He was stripped to his boxers, the rugged landscape of his back—all muscle and old scars—mappe
Zack’s POV“I need you to look at me.” Nathan’s massive hands framed my face, his silver eyes cutting into mine with a weight that made my lungs hitch.I grabbed his wrists. My fingers didn't even meet on the other side. “It’s just a run to the corner store, Nathan. Relax.”His brow stayed knotted,
Zack gripped the edge of the velvet sofa, his knuckles white. The air in the penthouse felt heavy, thick with the scent of expensive bourbon and the lingering smoke from Nathan’s silver lighter.“Don't give me that saintly martyr act,” Zack snapped, his voice cracking. “You’re acting like a machine
Zack’s POV“What the hell is this?”The words came out as a strangled rasp. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs as I stared at the glossy reward flier.“It’s nothing.” Nathan’s voice was like gravel as he reached for the paper.I didn't let him touch it. I lurched back, my spine hitt

![Fallen From Grace [Married to the Mafia Novel]](https://www.goodnovel.com/pcdist/src/assets/images/book/43949cad-default_cover.png)





