CHAPTER 9

"Spit it out, Madeline. What kind of game is Julian playing?"

Zack leaned back in the vinyl booth of the cafe, his mismatched eyes—one sapphire, one violet—fixed on the woman across from him. Madeline Winters didn't look like a mobster’s daughter today. She looked like a widow in white, her fingers trembling as she gripped a porcelain cup.

"Julian Wright isn't the savior you think he is, Zack," Madeline whispered. Her voice was thin, reedy, like wind through a graveyard. "You’ve been in that penthouse for three years. I’ve known that man since I was in diapers. The Julian the world sees and the man who runs the Cocolink syndicate are two different monsters."

She took a jagged swallow of coffee, the liquid sloshing over the rim.

"He killed his own brother to take the throne. You think he'd hesitate to pave the road with your bones if it got him what he wanted?"

Zack’s jaw tightened. "His brother was a rat. He tried to sell the syndicate to Ethan Cole. Julian did what he had to for the family."

Madeline let out a sharp, ugly laugh. "Is that what he told you? Everyone was locked down during that 'uprising.' No witnesses. Just Julian and his cleaners. The history books in Havenfall are written in the blood of people Julian didn't like."

"What are you getting at?" Zack's voice was a low warning.

Madeline reached across the table, her hand cold as ice as she clamped it over his. "He wants your bloodline, Zack. The Volana trait. He’s obsessed with it. Ask yourself—why was he so desperate to marry his heir to a broken kid from a basement? Why did he threaten to execute my entire family if I didn't vanish three years ago?"

The air in the cafe felt heavy, like it was being pumped out of the room. Zack thought of the "kindness" Julian had shown him. The doctors. The protection. Was it a sanctuary or a laboratory?

"Nathan was a kid when the purges happened," Madeline continued, her eyes wide and imploring. "Don't blame him for his father’s sins. We just want out, Zack. We’ve done everything Julian demanded. But as long as you’re the 'husband,' Julian will never let Nathan go. He’ll keep you both in that cage until he’s bled you dry."

Zack felt a sick lurch in his gut. The rejection ceremony wasn't just a divorce; it was a release valve. "The papers are being drawn. It’s happening in a week. Julian can't stop that."

"He’s the Boss," Madeline snapped. "He is the law in Havenfall. And if the papers don't stop you, a bullet will."

7 Days Until the Rejection Ceremony

Zack spent Saturday morning curled on the cold marble floor of the penthouse bathroom. The term "morning sickness" was a lie. This was a twenty-four-hour siege.

He hadn't kept a drop of water down in three days. His skin felt like wet parchment, clammy and gray. He’d given up on the bed. The walk was too long. The floor was stable. The floor didn't judge.

He closed his eyes, the cool tile against his cheek the only thing keeping the world from spinning off its axis. He thought about the baby. Who are you going to be? A Durand? Or a ghost like him?

"What the fuck are you doing on the floor?"

The voice was a thunderclap. Zack’s head jerked toward the door, and the room tilted violently. Nathan stood in the doorway, his silhouette massive against the hall lights. He looked like a storm cloud in a five-thousand-dollar suit.

Zack tried to push himself up, but his arms felt like overcooked noodles. The walls started to dance. Nathan wasn't one man anymore; he was a blurring shadow of three.

"Stop moving," Zack groaned, his eyes fluttering.

Massive hands hooked under his armpits, hoisting him up like he weighed nothing. Nathan’s heat was a furnace, suffocatingly warm against Zack’s chilled skin.

"How long have you been like this?" Nathan’s voice was a low growl, vibrating through Zack’s chest.

"I’m fine. Put me back," Zack wheezed, feebly batting at Nathan’s chest. "The floor... I like the floor."

Nathan’s palm pressed against Zack’s forehead, then his neck. "You're burning up. You look like death, Zack."

Nathan turned, heading for the bedroom, but Zack’s panic spiked. If he went to the bed, Nathan would call a Cocolink doctor. If a doctor came, the secret was out. Julian would find out. Nathan would be trapped forever.

"No! No doctors!" Zack screamed, his voice cracking. He kicked out, his heels thudding against Nathan’s thighs. "I won't go! Put me down, you bastard!"

Nathan’s chest rumbled with a warning snarl. He didn't drop him; he slammed Zack down onto the marble vanity, pinning him there with his body. He leaned in until their noses touched, his silver eyes flashing with terrifying authority.

"Why won't you go to the hospital?" Nathan demanded. "Give me one reason that isn't a lie."

Zack stared at him, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. He couldn't find the words. He couldn't tell him that he was trying to save Nathan from his own father.

"Because I said so!" Zack shrieked.

He lunged, a desperate tangle of limbs. He lashed out, his teeth sinking into Nathan’s forearm, biting down until he tasted copper.

Nathan roared, the sound primal and raw. In the struggle, Zack threw his weight backward, trying to break the hold.

CRACK.

His skull met the edge of the marble counter with sickening force. White light exploded behind his eyes, followed by a cold, numbing void. The last thing he felt was Nathan’s panicked shout and the sudden, terrifying weightlessness as the world went black.