FAZER LOGINWhat happens when the man you save becomes the shadow you can’t escape? Maya always believed she was just an ordinary nurse, quietly living each day as it came after a family tragedy that left her grieving and angry. But on a rainy night, everything changes when she finds a stranger bleeding in her bathtub, the windows in her room broken. A man who is dangerous in every ramification. A man who should have died. Saint Lachlan is more than the tech billionaire worshipped by the world. Behind all the charm and the wealth lies a man with ties to the mafia, and a ruthless empire built on secrets and blood. He didn’t ask for her help, but now that both worlds have been intertwined, finding the way back is impossible. To keep his secret, he offers her power, protection, and a place at his side. But it isn't up for debate. She soon realizes that the man she saved that day in her tub didn't just stumble into her apartment by chance. He's been watching her for years. He's been in her life, one with the shadows. And the truth is darker than she can ever imagine. To survive the world she has been plunged into, Maya must decide. Trust the devil who owns her past, or become a weapon that ends them both.
Ver maisThe bag in my hands feels heavier than it should. It is only a change of clothes, my ID, a few things I cannot bear to leave behind, yet it drags at me like a stone. Maybe because I know it is not just fabric and paper I am carrying. It is the weight of another choice I did not make.Saint waits by the door, his presence filling the room the way it always does. He has changed into dark clothes, his weapon strapped under his jacket. He looks like the man everyone whispers about, the man people fear. Not the man who brushes his hand against mine when we pass in the kitchen, not the man whose voice softens when he murmurs my name at night. This is Saint Lachlan, the warlord, the son of Vincent, and he has decided I will move like another pawn in his game.“Ready?” he asks, his tone even, unreadable.Am I?No. But I nod anyway, because what choice do I have?Lucio joins us, his eyes scanning every shadow. He is the constant shadow, always there, always watching. Sometimes I wonder if he i
I can smell it on her. Secrets.Maya walks into the penthouse with her chin high, her eyes steady, but I see the flicker beneath. Her hands clutch her bag too tightly, her shoulders are too tense. Something has changed.She thinks she hides it well. She does not.The hospital is her excuse, but I know when someone carries more than exhaustion home with them. I built my life on reading people, on seeing the cracks in their armor before they see them themselves. And right now, Maya is cracked wide open, holding something she thinks she can keep from me.Lucio lingers in the hall, his eyes darting between us. He sees it too, though he will not say it. He has his own loyalties, his own way of measuring silence. But I know Lucio. He has been with me long enough to understand when I am about to turn sharp.“Stay close,” I tell him, my eyes never leaving Maya. “Double the watch outside. Rotate the men. No one comes near this floor without me knowing.”Lucio nods, but there is something in hi
The air in the penthouse feels heavy, too heavy to breathe. I shut the bedroom door behind me and lean against it, my chest rising and falling like I just ran miles. But it is not running that leaves me breathless. It is him. Saint.Every word from his mouth cuts deeper than the last. Every truth he refuses to give me feels like another brick in the wall he is building between us.I want to scream. I want to throw something. Instead, I walk to the window and press my palms against the glass, letting the chill bite into my skin. Los Angeles sprawls beneath me, bright and endless, but I have never felt more trapped.He says he is protecting me. That lies are the only thing keeping me alive. Maybe that is true, but tonight I cannot shake the thought that he sounds just like Vincent. And that terrifies me more than anything else.I close my eyes, willing my thoughts to slow down. But instead of calm, memories rush in. My brother’s laugh, warm and sharp. The photograph Vincent shoved into
The city is quiet, but I can still hear the echo of gunfire in my head.The sound clings to me long after it should fade, a reminder of how close I came to losing control tonight. Vincent had planned it well. Too well. He wanted me cornered. He wanted me staring down his men with the weight of my father’s voice cutting into me.And worse, he wanted Maya caught in the crossfire.That was his mistake.Now, standing in the penthouse with her eyes wide on me, I feel the weight of what almost slipped from my hands. She does not understand that the blood I carry, the battles I fight, are not choices. They are inevitabilities. This world does not allow for hesitation.But Vincent’s words replay anyway.She will break you.The cracks are already showing.I should not care. I should let the thought pass like every other attempt he has made to get inside my head. But the truth is, he is not entirely wrong. When I looked at Maya just now, when I touched her, there was a part of me that softened
The city did not welcome us back. It never would.I could feel it in the weight of every glance, in the sharp edges of voices that lowered when I walked past. The cabin had been silence, but silence here was different. It wasn’t peace. It was pressure. Waiting for me to crack.I told myself I didn’
Coming back from the cabin felt like stepping out of a dream and into a storm.The forest had been quiet, almost too quiet, but that silence had wrapped around us like a shield. It gave me room to breathe, to believe that Saint and I could carve a life out of the wreckage of his past. Every creak o
The cabin taught me something the city never could.Silence isn’t empty. It’s full. Full of breath, of space, of things I never noticed when the world was always on fire. Full of Maya’s laughter drifting through wooden walls, the sound of her footsteps across creaking floors, the soft hum she made
The cabin was too quiet.At first, I thought the silence would be a gift. No sirens, no engines roaring, no whispers in alleys carrying my name like a curse. Just the wind moving through the trees, the crackle of firewood, the sound of Maya’s laughter spilling across wooden walls.But silence can b


















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