Chapter 2

The moment the plane touched down in Denver, something tight settled in my chest. It was not loud, nor was it sudden.

It was just there, heavy against my chest like a weight that prevented me from breathing properly.

I sat still even after the plane started moving, my eyes on the runway outside, but I wasn’t really seeing it. My mind kept going back to the same words.

He’s gone. Your father is dead.

I swallowed, my fingers curling slightly against my lap. He had died from a heart attack. That’s what Ronald said. But it didn’t sit right with me.

My father wasn’t the kind of man who just died like that. He wouldn't die quietly and it would take time before he would die naturally.

He had too many enemies, not to mention the fact that he lived in a world where death always meant something.

There was always a reason. So no, I didn’t believe it. Because men like him didn’t just die. They were either taken, betrayed, set up or they saw it coming.

My jaw tightened as another thought pushed its way in. The missed call. The one before all this.

The one I didn’t answer. He had been trying to talk to me and I didn't bother to answer.

For a second, my chest felt too tight, like I couldn’t breathe properly. What if that had been him calling to tell me something? What if he needed me and I just ignored it?

The thought wouldn’t leave. Guilt settles heavily on my chest. I should have answered that call.

“Nyra.”

Marcus’s voice pulled me back. His hand covered mine, warm and steady. “We’re here.”

I nodded, even though I didn’t feel ready.

He had been trying the whole flight, talking to me, comforting me, being there. But there was so much he didn’t know.

He didn’t know who my father really was. He didn’t know the kind of world I came from. It was the kind you don’t just walk away from.

And now, I was back in it.

The compound looked the same. The same gates, same guards and the same feeling in the air that made you stay alert whether you wanted to or not.

The moment I stepped out of the car, everything in me shifted. I noticed things without trying. Where the guards stood.

How they moved, where their hands rested. Their weapons, which were always close. It came naturally because of the training.

My father made sure of that.

I wasn’t just raised in that world, I was built for it. Fighting, reading people, knowing when something was off. I learned early.

And standing there now, I realized something. I hadn’t forgotten any of it. Not a single thing. It was still in me, waiting and watching. Just like everyone else.

Because the moment I walked in, I felt the eyes on me. People didn’t stop talking, but they noticed. I could feel it. The way they looked. The way their attention shifted.

They weren’t just watching. They were thinking, measuring and trying to figure out what I meant being back here.

Marcus’s hand brushed my back. “Stay close,” he said quietly. I almost smiled. If only he knew.

When I saw the casket, everything slowed down.

This was real. My steps felt heavier as I walked closer until I saw him.

Ronald. He looked older and tired. It was like the weight of everything had already settled on him.

For a moment, he just stared at me. Then his expression broke.

“Nyra…”

That was all it took.

I moved before I could think, and when he pulled me into a hug, something inside me cracked open. The tears came fast, uncontrollable, as I held onto him.

I had left them. I had run away from home. But the truth was that I never stopped loving my father.

And now he was dead.

The burial passed, but I barely followed it. People spoke. Words were said. But it all blurred together. What stood out was something else.

The atmosphere. The people around were clinking their glasses, there were low conversations and genuine smiles on their faces.

It took me a moment to understand it. But when I did, it made my stomach turn. This was the feeling of relief.

Some of them were relieved he was dead. They would see me as a target soon. Marcus leaned closer, saying something soft, but I barely heard him. Because suddenly, I felt it.

It was that familiar shift, that presence that I knew anywhere in this world. My body reacted before I even saw him. And when I looked up, there he was.

Raze. He was standing across from me. But he was not looking at the casket nor anyone else. His eyes were on me. Just like in the dream I had. My pussy still tingled from the memory.

He was looking at me like I still belonged to him. And somehow, no matter how hard I tried to fight it, I knew coming back here would change a lot of things.

My chest tightened. This wasn’t a dream. He was actually here. When he moved towards me, every instinct in my body screamed at me to move, to find an excuse but I couldn't.

My feet stayed rooted to the ground until he stopped right in front of me. Familiarity and that look of possession and lust swam in his orbs and I swallowed.

He was way too close to me. “Nyra.” The way he said my name made something twist inside me. But I forced myself to calm down.

“Raze,” I replied.

Marcus shifted beside me, their eyes meeting and something violent passed between them. Raze glanced at him briefly before looking back at me.

“Who’s this?” he asked.

“This is Marcus,” I said. “My fiancé.” I saw it. That small change. His jaw tightened. His eyes darkened. But then he smiled and I knew that this was him controlling himself.

“Raze Calder.”

Marcus shook his hand. “Marcus.” The handshake was firm. And the whole time, Raze was looking at me. Not Marcus. Me. “We grew up together,” I added.

It sounded small like I was trying to make it less than it was. Because what we had wasn’t that simple. We had passion and nights we fucked till morning.

Anger flashed in his eyes. But he didn’t say anything. But the look he gave me said enough. This wasn’t over.

“I'm sorry about your dad, Nyra,” Raze finally said and I nodded, not trusting my voice.

Standing there, my mind drifted without warning. A memory played in my head.

I was younger, trying to balance on a bicycle that felt too big for me. My father stood behind me, holding it steady.

“I’m going to fall,” I said.

“You won’t,” he replied.

“Promise?”

He didn’t answer.

He just said, “Keep moving forward. Don’t look back.” And then, he let go. I didn’t realize at first.

Not until I was riding on my own. Not until I turned and lost balance.

I blinked, the memory fading as I looked at the grave. My father was gone. And just like that, I was on my own again.