CHAPTER 4

The silk against Zack’s skin was a lie. It was too soft, too clean, a stark contrast to the grit of the Havenfall basement that still felt etched into his pores. He sat upright in the massive bed, the movement sending a jagged spike of pain through his ribs. One eye was a swollen, purple slit, but the other took in the room: a penthouse suite that screamed old money and new violence.

His hair was damp, smelling of expensive sandalwood. Someone had scrubbed the filth of Logan’s floor off him. Bandages, white and sterile, climbed his forearms like armor.

Voices drifted from the heavy oak door. Zack slid out of the bed, his bare feet hitting the heated floor with a hiss. He moved like a shadow, pressing his ear to the wood, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his sternum.

"Zackary Moreau," an unfamiliar voice said. Cold. Professional. "The kid was supposed to have been buried years ago."

"Logan’s a liar, we know this," a second man countered. "Has the hit squad found him yet?"

"Julian is on it." That voice was Nathan’s—a deep, tectonic rumble that Zack felt in his teeth. "He has orders. If he finds Logan before he hits the city limits, he’s to hold him. I want that bastard alive."

A heavy silence followed.

"We missed it," Nathan continued, his voice dropping an octave, vibrating with a low, dangerous frequency. "Ten years. A kid from a high-tier bloodline rotting under our noses because we took Logan’s word for it."

"He played the grieving widower well," the first man sighed. "But bloodlines like the Volana don't just vanish. We should have looked closer."

Zack felt the door handle vibrate. He scrambled back, his legs nearly giving out, as the door swung inward. Nathan stood there, his tailored shirt unbuttoned at the collar, eyes tracking Zack’s movement with the precision of a hawk.

"Eavesdropping is a dangerous habit in this house," Nathan said. No smile. Just that heavy, suffocating focus.

Zack backed into the room, his eyes darting toward the window. Twenty stories up. No escape. Behind Nathan, two older men entered. One was Julian Wright, Logan's former right hand who looked entirely too comfortable here. The other was Gabriel Durand—the reigning king of Havenfall, a man whose name was whispered in the same breath as "death."

Zack instinctively ducked behind Nathan, grabbing the back of the man’s vest. It was a reflex—a pathetic, desperate need for a shield—and Nathan stiffened, his muscles turning to iron beneath the fabric.

Nathan didn't push him away. He reached back, his large hand wrapping around Zack’s waist and hauling him forward. He didn't let go until he’d deposited Zack back onto the edge of the mattress, standing over him like a monolith.

"We need to clear the air," Nathan said.

Gabriel stepped forward, his eyes—the same mercury silver as his son’s—scanning Zack’s injuries. "Your mother, Madeline, was a friend to this family, Zack. She saved my life during the 2016 uprising. I owe her a debt I can't pay back to a grave."

Zack’s fingers curled into the duvet. "Logan said... he said I was a mistake. That she fled here in disgrace."

Gabriel’s jaw tightened. "Logan is a bottom-feeder who hit the lottery when he found a woman like Madeline. He didn't take her in out of charity. He took her because he wanted her bloodline's secrets. The Volana aren't just 'special,' Zack. Their genetic markers allow for a level of physical recovery that the black market would kill to bottle."

"Recovery?" Zack croaked. "I haven't felt anything but pain for a decade. He fed me neurotoxins every night. He kept me... quiet."

Nathan’s knuckles turned white where he gripped the bedpost.

"The tox was to suppress your system," Nathan growled. "If you’d come into your full strength, you would have ripped the door off that cell and used his spine as a necklace."

Zack looked down at his trembling hands. "It doesn't matter. Whatever was inside me... it’s gone. He killed it."

The air in the room spiked with a sudden, violent tension. Nathan turned abruptly, his chest heaving as if he were fighting the urge to smash the furniture. Without a word, he stormed out, the door slamming with a force that rattled the glass walls.

Zack flinched, tears stinging his one good eye. Rejection. It felt exactly like the basement.

"Don't mind him," Gabriel said, his voice softening but remaining firm. "My son has a short fuse when it comes to things he considers his. And make no mistake, Zack—from the moment he pulled you out of those woods, you became his responsibility."

"I don't want to be a responsibility," Zack whispered.

"Then you’ll be a target," Gabriel countered. He sat in a velvet armchair, leaning forward. "Logan isn't the only one who knows your value. The Cocolink syndicate has rivals. Ethan Cole has been looking for a Volana survivor for years. He thinks your blood is the key to his own empire's longevity."

Zack’s head spun. "So what? You're just a better class of jailer?"

"No," Gabriel said. "I’m offering you a throne. I made a pact with your mother. I promised to protect her legacy. Since Logan is no longer your legal guardian—and since he will likely be dead by dawn—you need a new name. A new status."

Zack frowned, the information dump feeling like a physical weight on his chest. "How?"

Gabriel looked at the door Nathan had just exited, then back at Zack. "This is a business of blood and alliances, Zack. To keep you safe from men like Ethan Cole, you need the Durand name. But adoption is too slow, and it doesn't carry the right weight in the underworld."

"Then what are you saying?"

Gabriel’s eyes were cold and clear. "You're going to marry Nathan. You’ll be the prince of Havenfall. No one touches a Durand and lives to talk about it."

Zack’s breath hitched. He thought of Nathan’s hands—possessive, heavy, and hot. He thought of the way the man looked at him, like he was a prize to be won and a toy to be broken.

"He'll hate me," Zack said, his voice breaking. "He didn't even want to stay in the room."

"He didn't leave because he hates you, boy," Gabriel said, standing up to leave. "He left because he realized he’s already obsessed with you. And a Durand with an obsession is the most dangerous thing in this city."