LOGINI woke up slowly, as if my body still wasn’t sure it was safe to open my eyes. The room was bathed in soft, golden light filtered through the heavy curtains. The side of the bed where Zion and Luka usually slept was empty—cold, without their usual warmth. Only Elias was there.
He was sleeping on his side, facing me, his broad chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. The wound on his shoulder was still bandaged, a light patch against hi
The late afternoon brought a subtle shift in energy. As the sun began its descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and violet, Elias appeared with firewood and matches.“Closing ritual,” he announced, without excessive ceremony. “Each of us writes what we want to leave behind. Or what we want to promise going forward. Then we burn it.”He handed out papers and pens with the seriousness of someone who knew certain moments called for solemnity.“It doesn’t have to be anything grand,” he explained. “It can be a single word, a phrase, a terrible drawing. The point is that it’s real.”The silence that followed was dense and meaningful. Each of them got lost in their own thoughts, pens moving across the paper in different rhythms. Maeve wrote without overthinking, letting her hand move before her mind could edit. When she finished, she folded the paper without rereading it&mdash
The golden morning light filtered through the linen curtains, casting soft patterns across the villa’s ceiling. Maeve was the first to wake, and for a long moment she remained still, absorbing every detail of that instant: the scent of salt and sun-warmed wood, the rhythmic sound of the waves like a gentle breath, the comforting weight of the three bodies around her. Luka slept behind her, one protective arm draped over her waist, while Zion lay on his stomach beside her, his dreadlocks spread across the pillow like roots seeking soil. Elias, at the edge of the bed, kept his feet tangled with hers—an unconscious habit he had developed over the last few days.Last day. The words settled in her chest without the devastating weight she had expected. Instead of sadness, there was a sharpened awareness, a special kind of attention reserved for precious things that are about to change forever. She wanted to savor every second, to etch every sensation into her memory.
I woke up with my body still sore from the night before, but it was a good kind of ache—the sort that reminds you you’re alive. The sun had barely risen when Elias pulled me onto the deck. He didn’t say a word. He simply offered his hand, like he always did when words weren’t enough. I followed him.The air was fresh and salty, carrying that scent of the sea that fills your lungs and cleans you from the inside out. He unrolled two yoga mats on the wooden deck, positioned to face the horizon. He sat first, legs crossed, spine straight, as if the world could collapse and he would still remain upright. I sat facing him.“Just breathe,” he murmured.We started slowly. Simple movements, stretches guided by his large, calloused hands. Every touch was precise, but never clinical. It was Elias. He wasn’t just teaching the body — he was teaching the weight we carry without realizing it.In the middle of the sequence,
The first morning after the vow renewal dawned soft, golden, and unhurried.Maeve woke slowly, feeling the warm weight of three bodies around her. Zion was pressed against her back, his possessive arm wrapped around her waist. Luka slept with his face buried in her chest, breathing against her skin. Elias, as always, took up the most space, with one heavy leg over hers and his large hand resting protectively on her thigh.For a long moment, she didn’t move. She simply absorbed the feeling — skin against skin, synchronized breathing, the familiar scent of the three of them mixed with the sea salt drifting in through the open window. For the first time in a long while, there was no urgency. No book to finish, no child to wake, no meeting to attend. Just them.Zion was the first to stir. He kissed the back of her neck slowly and murmured, his voice hoarse with sleep:&ldquo
The decision came after an entire week of difficult conversations, tears, and heavy silences.After the fight between Zion and Luka, the house had entered a state of constant alertness. No one wanted to admit it, but the fear that the love they had built with so much effort was wearing thin was very real. It was Elias who proposed the solution one night when the four of them were sitting on the veranda, exhausted from talking without reaching any resolution.“Let’s go back to where it all began,” he said, his voice deep and calm. “The Maldives. The private island. The exact same place where the Imperial Noel left us. But this time, not as prisoners. As free people. We’re going to renew our vows. Just the four of us. No masks. No heavy past weighing us down. Only the present.”Maeve felt her chest tighten. Zion and Luka exchanged a long look, then nodded.
The months following the release of Maeve’s second book were a whirlwind of emotions and achievements. Velvet Chains was selling even better than the first, gaining massive traction in dark romance communities and captivating readers who devoured every explicit and emotional scene. Maeve traveled discreetly to events, took part in anonymous livestreams, and spent long hours in her office revising, writing, and answering messages from readers.The house, which had always been their sanctuary, was beginning to feel the strain of the new routine.Zion was in the studio almost every night, composing alone, his guitar echoing through the house like a lament. Luka threw himself even deeper into Lumina Security projects, often working until the early hours. Elias kept his gym routine but watched everything in silence, as he always did.The tension finally exploded on a night of heavy rain.
Time stopped.Elias lay on the cold, damp ground of the clearing, his chest covered in blood, eyes half-closed, breathing weak and gurgling. Dark blood spread across the dirt floor, mixing with the wet mud from the recent rain. Zion was screaming, pressing the
The silence after the storm was deceptive. The kind of silence that comes before one final cruel blow from fate.My father’s secret house was destroyed. Bodies scattered across the floor, dark blood staining the old walls, the metallic smell of gunpowder
The night was too calm. Dangerously calm.It was one of those rare moments when the house seemed to breathe in peace, as if the universe had finally decided to give us a break. Matthew and Nolah were sleeping soundly in the boy’s room, exhausted after a f
Christmas arrived like a long, deep, and relieved sigh after a storm that had lasted entire years.Declan's, Evie's, and Harvey’s house was a truly grand yet welcoming refuge, situated on a vast property surrounded by wide gardens, ancient trees, and a sm







