登入MATHEW
I stood in the centre of the ring, my knuckles wrapped in tape, looking at the guy opposite me. Tony. The same guy who had been buying drinks for Ciara at the university bar for months. The same guy who looked at her with those smarmy, possessive eyes and the same idiot who came with her to my engagement and stood outside the door while I fucked her senseless. The thought alone made me smirk. My brother was dead, he had been dead for years and the only headway I had was Maggie. I was going to kill this man with my bare hands. The referee nodded, stepping back, and the bell rang. It was a deafening clash of noise-cheers from the crowd, the thud of boots on canvas, the grunts of exertion. I lunged first, aiming for his ribs, but he was fast. He sidestepped me, his arm shooting out to hook my neck. I choked, stumbling back, my eyes finding hers in the stands. She was there. Carlista was there. But Ciara... she was nowhere to be seen. My focus fractured for a split second, just enough for Tony to capitalise. He drove a knee into my stomach, doubling me over. I hit the ground hard, the air forced from my lungs. I panicked. Did she see me? Did she see how weak I looked? I scrambled to my feet, wiping blood from my nose, and lunged again. This time, I caught him. I drove my fist into his jaw, feeling bone give way under my knuckles. He stumbled, and I followed up with a right hook to his temple. He hit the canvas hard. My chest heaved, adrenaline burning through my veins. I looked at him, my eyes narrowing into slits. I was going to finish him. I was going to break him. "You alright, Mathew?" I looked up to see the referee raising my hand. The crowd was roaring. I pulled myself together, nodding at the referee, then turned to walk to my corner. I saw Carlista waving me over, looking excited. But my eyes swept the crowd again, scanning every face, every body. No Ciara. Where the hell was she? "Mathew! Come here!" I jogged over to my corner, where my coach, a burly guy named Kevin, was already wrapping ice around my shoulder. "You good, mate?" "I'm fine." I grabbed the towel hanging around my neck, wiping sweat and blood from my forehead. "Where's Ciara?" "Who?" Kevin asked, pouring water into my mouth. "Carlista's friend. The dark-haired girl. The one who got caught in the rain." "Oh, her." Kevin shrugged, tossing a bottle of water to me. "She wasn't feeling well, I think. Carlista said she needed to get home." I felt a knot of anxiety tighten in my chest. "Feeling unwell? What happened?" "She seemed pretty shaken up earlier, actually." Kevin paused, looking at me with a knowing look. "You okay, Mathew? You looked pretty intense out there." "I'm fine." I downed the water, feeling the cool liquid hit my empty stomach. "Just... focused." I finished warming up, listening to Carlista chatter excitedly about my next fight. But my mind was elsewhere. I couldn't get her face out of my head. I saw fear in her eyes when she left the room. The bell rang again, signalling the end of the round. I walked back to my corner, ready for the next one. I watched the match play out, my heart in my throat. I almost lost. Tony was good. He was relentless. And every time I thought about giving up, I thought about her. I thought about the baby. I thought about Maggie. I couldn't let them win. I fought with a ferocity that surprised even myself. I was a force of nature, a whirlwind of punches and kicks. I knocked Tony out in the fourth round. The crowd went wild. I threw my gloves in the air, shouting for Carlista. She ran down to the ring, hugging me, tears streaming down her face. "Mathew! You did it! You absolutely killed him!" she screamed, over the roar of the crowd. I hugged her back, my heart still hammering against my ribs. "Yeah," I said, my voice strained. "I'm fine." I looked at Carlista, but my eyes were scanning the crowd again, desperate to find her. "Where is she?" Carlista pulled back, looking confused. "Ciara? You mean Ciara? Why would she be here?" "She has to be here," I said, my voice rising. "She was supposed to come." "Mathew, she's not here," Carlista said gently. "She left." I felt the floor drop out from under me. "Left? When? Where?" "An hour ago. She left right after I told her about the package she got. She looked scared, Mathew. Really scared." My blood ran cold. "What package?" "She didn't say. She just grabbed her bag and ran out the door." I turned to Kevin, my eyes blazing. "Get the car." "What? But the afterparty-" "I said get the fucking car." I grabbed my robe, tying it around my waist. "I'm not staying here. I have somewhere else to be I'll see you later Carlista. " I walked out of the arena, my mind racing. Someone was threatening her. Someone knew about the baby. And I was going to find out who. I got into the car with Kevin, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Where's Ciara?" I asked, my voice tight. "I don't know, Mathew," Kevin said, starting the engine. "I thought you knew." "I thought she was coming with Carlista," I said, my voice rising. "You said she was coming!" "I never said that, Mathew. I said she was going to take her to cheer her up." I ran a hand through my hair, trying to process the information. "She's not with Carlista." I felt a knot of anxiety tighten in her chest. "Where is she?" I asked, my voice tight. "I don't know," Kevin said. "We can't just-" "I'm not asking you to guess," I snapped. "I'm telling you to drive. To the university. To her dorm. To wherever the hell she is." Kevin nodded, shifting gears. "Okay, okay. We're going to find her." I leaned back in my seat, my eyes fixed on the road. I needed to find her. I needed to protect her. I needed to tell her that I wasn't leaving her. We drove to the university, but her dorm was empty. I checked her phone records, but she had turned it off. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to stave off the panic rising in my chest. I was going to black out. I was going to die here. I needed to find her. I needed to see her. I needed to touch her. I called Carlista's phone again. "Where are you?" "I'm at the gym," Carlista said, her voice shaking. "I have the car. I'm coming to get you." "Good," I said, hanging up. "I'm going to the warehouse." "What?" Kevin asked, looking at me. "Why? What are you doing there?" "The note," I said, my voice low. "The one she got. It said to come to the old warehouse at Docklands tomorrow at noon." Kevin shook his head tonight. "This is crazy, Mathew. This is insane. It's late. No one is there." "I don't care." I got out of the car and started walking toward the warehouse district. I walked through the dark, empty streets of London, my heart hammering against my ribs. The rain had started to fall again, cold and biting. I felt like I was walking into a trap. I reached the warehouse district. I saw the warehouse I was looking for. It was old, run-down, and looked abandoned. But I could see someone standing outside. I froze. The figure was tall and broad, with tanned skin. He had tattoos on his arms. It was Tony. He was smoking, looking at his phone. I walked up to him, my eyes narrowed. "You sent the note?" Tony took a long drag from his cigarette and exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Hello, Mathew. Or should I call you 'Champion'?" He stepped aside, revealing the girl standing behind him. It was Ciara. She was standing near a delivery truck, her back to me. She looked like she was in shock. She looked small and fragile in the rain, a stark contrast to the dangerous man standing next to her. "I see you made it," Tony said. "Did you enjoy the fight?" I ran a hand through my hair, intensely. "Where's the threat? Where's the danger?" Tony laughed. "That's not what I meant. I meant, did you enjoy the fight? Because it reminded me of how I'd like to take you apart. Slow and painful." He leaned in close to me, his eyes glinting. "I'm going to kill you, Mathew. I'm going to kill you slowly. I have plans for you." My heart pounded. "What do you want with me?" "I want her," Tony said, nodding at Ciara. "And I want her child. That's why I sent the note. I wanted to see what you'd do. Would you come for her? Would you be a hero?"MATHEW "I need to get back to work Mathew and you need to let Mary come see me at home. You can't hate her for a situation that was never her fault in the first place. It's been two Months...do you want me to go crazy couped in this place?""I'd see you later babe." I kissed her forehead ignoring everything she had said before.I pulled the door shut behind me, the soft, expensive click of the latch sounding entirely too final in the quiet corridor. I stood there for a second, my palm pressed flat against the wood, listening to the absolute silence coming from inside our bedroom.She was furious. I could feel the cold, sharp weight of her anger right through the door, but I didn't care. The image of her lying on that London pavement, her navy blouse soaked through with a terrifying shade of crimson, was a permanent file burned into the back of my eyelids. It had been two months since the shooting, two months of watching her surgical scar fade from a raw, angry red to a pale, silver l
MATHEW The smell of antiseptic still clung to the fabric of the sofa, or maybe it was just burned into my retinas. Two weeks. Two weeks since I watched the monitors flatline, since the doctors shoved me out of the ICU, since I thought I’d have to figure out how to breathe in a world that didn’t have Ciara in it.She was sitting on the edge of our bed now, looking entirely too fragile and entirely too stubborn. The bruises from the IV lines were fading into ugly yellow-green blotches on the backs of her hands. She was alive. She was home and I was so goddamn furious I could taste copper."Mathew," she murmured, her voice still a little raspy from the intubation tube. She reached out, her fingers brushing the hem of my shirt. "Stop pacing. You’re going to wear a hole in the floor."I stopped, but I didn't look at her right away. If I looked at her, she’d see the storm. She’d see that behind the dutiful boyfriend who had spent fourteen days bringing her ice chips and fluffing her pillow
CIARAThe sound of a gunshot doesn't sound like it does in the movies. It isn't a clean, dramatic pop. It’s a sickening, deafening tear in the air that shatters your ears and leaves a metallic tang of burnt powder coating the back of your throat.Everything happened in a fraction of a second outside the London medical clinic. One moment, Mary was stepping out of the glass double doors, holding her purse with one hand and protectively resting her other hand over her stomach where her tiny, fragile secret was growing. The next, a heavy transit van slammed its brakes onto the curb, the side door sliding open with a violent screech.A masked man lunged out, his hands reaching viciously for Mary’s coat, trying to drag her toward the dark interior of the vehicle. Mary shrieked, a terrified, helpless sound that bypassed my brain and went straight to my blood.I didn't think, didn't calculate. I didn't care about the consequences.I threw my entire body forward, shoving Mary hard onto the con
CIARAIt was 11:30 PM on a Saturday, and my system was already rejecting the environment. The club was a subterranean labyrinth of polished concrete, flashing crimson strobe lights, and a bass line so violent it made the liquid inside my crystal glass vibrate in perfect, concentric circles.I didn't want to be here. I had spent the last seventy-two hours mapping a brutal liquidity shift in our offshore accounts, and the lingering fatigue from my recent, uncharacteristic lapse in sobriety was still hovering at the edge of my consciousness but Carlista had insisted that Mary’s official bachelorette exit from the corporate grid required a high-tier venue. Naturally, my bestie had abandoned me at the VIP booth ten minutes ago to negotiate a bulk liquor distribution contract with the venue’s managing partner.I sat back against the dark leather banquette, my navy silk blouse unbuttoned just enough to breathe, my reading glasses safely tucked into my handbag. I was trying to execute a stand
MATHEWI had survived underground fight clubs, I had survived syndicates and had survived hostile takeovers, assassination attempts, and one particularly traumatic Christmas dinner with Carlista.Nothing had prepared me for Adam discovering he was part of a wedding."No."The word came from my son with the confidence of a tiny dictator.Louis looked away immediately silently laughing."Adam," I said patiently, crouching in front of him. "You're the little groom.""No.""Why not?"He crossed his tiny arms."I'm busy."I blinked."Busy doing what?"He pointed at the floor "My Dinosaurs."Unfortunately for him, Mary had specifically requested his participation.Apparently, she wanted the "cutest member of the family" involved in the ceremony.That had resulted in him pretending to be offended for nearly forty minutes."You called me cute once," he'd complained."It was a mistake," Ciara had replied."I'm not cute.""That's debatable."I stood and looked toward Ciara.She was sitting on t
CIARAThe double-shot of espresso I had downed before leaving the Surrey estate was currently waging a violent, chemical war against the remnants of the Kremlin’s premium vodka.By the time the private executive elevator hissed open on the forty-fourth floor of the Horizon Holdings headquarters, my corporate ice was firmly locked back in place. I stepped out onto the polished marble, my heels clicking in a sharp, lethal rhythm, my navy blazer buttoned tight, and my reading glasses sitting perfectly on the bridge of my nose.I expected to see Russian intelligence operatives. I expected to see a phalanx of stone-faced legal counsel drafting a hostile infrastructure merger.Instead, the reception lobby was entirely empty, save for Louis, who was standing near the glass entrance doors with his encrypted terminal under his arm, looking remarkably unbothered for a man whose operational grid had supposedly reached critical pressure."Louis," I said, my voice dropping into that deep, flat pla
CIARA"You're making a face again."I looked up from my laptop.Mary was standing beside my desk holding a tablet."What face?""The one that says you're mentally planning someone's murder.""I don't have a murder face.""You absolutely have a murder face."I sighed.Mary smirked.Three weeks ago,
MATTHEW“Are you sure the Intel was correct?” She asked for the millionth time.I practically forced her into the front seat of my vintage black coupe, driving aimlessly until the city blurred into the dense, isolated woods near the edge of the estate line.I pulled the car off the dirt road, cutti
CIARA"Mathew," I said softly, my voice losing every bit of its tone.He turned around slowly. The stoic, unreadable mask he wore for the guards, the staff, and the board members was entirely gone. His dark eyes were soft, completely exposed, and fixed on me with a fierce, quiet warmth that always
CIARAThe drive to Mathew's mansion was unusually quiet.Adam sat between Mathew and me in the armored SUV.His small hands clutched a stuffed dinosaur.For once, he wasn't talking.That scared me more than anything.Normally, Adam asked a thousand questions an hour.Now he sat quietly staring out







