Elena could still hear the ringing of gunfire in her ears, feel the weight of the gun in her hand, smell the sharp tang of blood lingering in the air.The mansion was eerily silent when they returned.The others had dispersed, licking their wounds and downing whiskey like it was water. Jax had already collapsed onto one of the leather couches, groaning about a bruised rib, while the rest of the men cleaned their weapons.But Elena?She wasn’t tired. She wasn’t shaken. She was wired.She followed Killian through the dimly lit hallways, her body thrumming with adrenaline, her mind replaying the moment over and over again—the feel of the trigger beneath her finger, the way the man’s body crumpled, the rush that followed.She had killed again.And she liked it.At the top of the stairs, Killian stopped. He turned, watching her with an intensity that made her stomach tighten. The chandelier above cast golden shadows across his chiseled features, makin
Elena stared at her hands, the deep crimson of fresh blood painting her fingertips.The metallic scent clung to her skin, seeping into her pores. Her breath was steady, her pulse a slow, even beat. No trembling. No hesitation.She had done it.The man had screamed. Had begged. And in the end, he had talked.Jax stood beside her, arms crossed over his chest, his usual cocky smirk replaced by something far more serious. His sharp eyes traced her face, as if searching for a crack in the façade, waiting for her to fall apart.But she didn’t.Killian, on the other hand, looked downright pleased. He leaned back against the desk, watching her with a dark, amused glint in his eyes.“See?” he murmured. “It’s not so hard, is it?”Elena exhaled, lifting her gaze to meet his. “I did what had to be done.”Killian’s smirk deepened. He took slow, measured steps toward her, his boots clicking against the polished marble floor.“And now you understand.”
The mansion was eerily quiet. Too quiet.Elena stood by the window, arms crossed, watching the darkened streets below. A storm was rolling in, heavy clouds hanging low in the sky.She could still feel the ghost of Killian’s touch on her skin, his grip from earlier—rough, possessive, impossible to forget.But there was no time to dwell on that.Killian and Jax were in the study, deep in conversation. The attack at the club had changed everything. Victor wasn’t running anymore. He was playing.A knock at the door made her tense.One of Killian’s men stepped inside, his expression tight. “Boss, we found something outside the gate.”Killian was on his feet instantly, his body humming with tension. “What is it?”The man hesitated before glancing at Elena. “It’s for her.”Her stomach twisted.She didn’t wait—she pushed past Killian, heading straight for the front of the mansion.Outside, in the dim glow of the estate’s security lights, some
Elena jolted awake, heart hammering against her ribs.At first, she wasn’t sure what had pulled her from sleep. Then—BOOM.The sound of an explosion ripped through the mansion, making the chandelier above her sway violently. The walls trembled, and the air filled with the acrid scent of burning metal.She threw off the silk sheets, her pulse roaring in her ears. She barely had time to process the chaos before her bedroom door slammed open.Killian stood there, shirtless, gun in hand, his muscles tensed like a predator ready to strike.“Elena. Get up.”She didn’t hesitate. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, adrenaline flooding her veins. “What happened?”Killian grabbed her wrist, pulling her toward the hallway. “Victor.”Her blood turned cold.The moment they stepped into the corridor, the distant wail of security alarms filled the air. Red warning lights flashed along the ceiling, casting everything in eerie shadows. The estate—nor
The city never truly slept. Even at this hour—long past midnight—New York hummed with life.Elena stood in front of the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of Killian’s penthouse, watching the traffic snake through the streets below. It was almost hypnotic.Almost enough to distract her from the war that was about to unfold.Her reflection stared back at her—dark eyes filled with silent rage, lips pressed into a thin line. She wasn’t the same woman she had been weeks ago.Once, she had been nothing but a pawn in a world she didn’t understand.Now, she was playing the game.Behind her, the door clicked open.She didn’t need to turn to know it was Killian.His presence was like a shadow—dark, overwhelming, inescapable.“I thought you’d be asleep,” he murmured, stepping closer.Elena let out a quiet breath. “You and I both know that’s not happening.”Killian’s green eyes flickered as he leaned against the edge of the window beside her. His
BANG.The deafening crack of the gunshot sliced through the thick air, reverberating through the vast warehouse like a death knell.Elena’s world tilted.For a split second, everything stood still.Her breath caught in her throat. The acrid scent of gunpowder filled her lungs. The cold steel of a gun rested in her trembling hands.Then—A body slammed into hers.Her vision blurred as she hit the ground hard, the air ripping from her lungs.The weight on top of her was firm, solid—protective. She gasped, her fingers instinctively curling against the familiar warmth pressing her down.“Elena!”Killian’s voice was rough, taut with something dangerous.She blinked up at him, panic flooding her veins.That’s when she saw it—the blood.A dark crimson stain was rapidly soaking through his crisp white shirt, spreading from his shoulder.Her stomach dropped.The bullet had been meant for her.But Killian—He had taken i
Elena stepped into Graves Enterprises, her heels clicking sharply against the polished marble floors. The air inside the towering skyscraper was thick with authority, power, and the unmistakable presence of Killian Graves.She had spent the entire night strategizing her next move, mapping out ways to take him down, piece by piece. Yet now, standing here, she felt his presence before she even saw him.A shiver danced along her spine.Then, a deep voice cut through the silence."Ms. Black."She turned slowly.Killian stood near the elevator, his broad frame clad in an impeccably tailored black suit. His silver cufflinks gleamed under the bright lobby lights, but it was his storm-gray eyes that held her captive—piercing, cold, and calculating.A slow, almost lazy smirk tugged at his lips. Dangerous. Intoxicating."Mr. Graves," Elena greeted coolly, forcing a polite smile.His eyes flickered with amusement. "How interesting. You’re back at work a
Elena Romano had always known that revenge was a patient game. But tonight, she wasn’t going to be patient. Tonight, she would step into the lion’s den and remind Killian Graves exactly who he had underestimated.Standing before the mirror in her penthouse, she slid her hands over the silk of her deep crimson gown. It clung to her curves like a second skin, the dangerously high slit revealing just enough to be tempting. The plunging neckline and open back left little to the imagination—but that was the point.If Killian thought he could parade his engagement in front of her and she would simply watch, he was dead wrong.A knock on her door pulled her out of her thoughts. She turned to see Elias Carter, the man she had chosen as her perfect distraction for the night.“Damn, Raven.” His voice held appreciation as his sharp gaze raked over her. “You do know that showing up like this will drive him insane, right?”She smirked. “That’s exactly what I want.”E
Elena hadn't meant to pass into Killian's private sanctum, but the golden radiance that curled about the threshold and the disturbing stillness beyond the doorway drew her in irresistibly, a moth to a flame. She'd told herself she was just keeping up with him—that she was ahead. But when the creaking, protesting door slid open, something quite different was waiting for her.Stacks of paper, yellowed news clippings, photographs… pinned neatly to a pinboard against one wall. And in the center, her last name: is Romano—red, capital letters.Her breathing froze. Her heart thudded.This was not her seduction anymore. This was an obsession.Her palm rested upon a photograph wedged between the front. It was of her father, years ago, at a fund-raising dinner. Below that one, barely discernible, was another—Elena herself as a child, innocent, smiling up at her mother.She hadn't seen these photographs in years."Where are you in here?"His words cut into the stillness like a knife.Elena spun,
The penthouse was too quiet.Elena took her position in the darkness of the living room, her breathing controlled, her hands still trembling with the fight at Graves Enterprises. The tension lingered with her, weighted with the recollection of Killian's stern gaze and the ring to his voice when he told her to get out.She had struggled to come back to him, broken her own heart to do so close to the truth—and now it was all falling apart all over again. The man she once assumed ruined her now worked as her protector. And just when she started to assume he could rescue her too. he pushed her away more brutally than ever before.Her phone rang, but she couldn't force herself to look at it. Nathan or Rachel, most likely. Most likely questions, pressure, and further reminders the game she was playing was getting way, way out of her control.The door behind her burst open, and for a moment her heart refused the truth and wished it could be him.It wasn't."Raven," Rachel's voice was soft bu
Elena stood in front of Killian's mirror wall inside his gym, her face broken by beams of light passing through windows that reached from floor to ceiling. Her heart thumped in her ears—not from the light morning practice she'd attempted, but from the tension that had never ceased since the battle with Killian last night.He had not gone back to bed.Not that she would have forced him to. Their argument had disturbed something in her—a reality she did not wish to acknowledge but could no longer avoid. Her desire to control, her inability to be helpless, had always been entwined around him. And now, as she was getting close to the unspoken reality of what happened six years ago, that fear was becoming something else—telepathy.She tied her hair back into a loose ponytail and grabbed the towel from the bench, wiping her face. The door creaked open behind her."You should learn to lock doors, Raven." Killian’s voice was deep, rough with sleep… and something else. Anger? Frustration?She
The storm raging outside was mirrored in the turmoil within Elena. Lightning rent the skies asunder and rain pounded against the high windows of the penthouse apartment. She stood still in the middle of his bed-chamber, her arms crossed over her chest as if attempting to preserve whole the fragments of shattered pieces of her will.Killian hunched over the room, his jaw set, his face stern. They stood in suspense between them as foul and heavy as a miasmic fog neither wished to shatter."I want the truth," Elena breathed, her voice little more than the patter of the rain. "No more lies, no more half-truths."He took one step forward. Then another, each deliberate. "I didn't mean to lie to you. But protecting you was about protecting you from things. From you too." Her gaze jerked to his. "Protect me? You brought me into your realm, remained blind, and used me as chattel. You don't get to spin it around on my head and deem it protection."His eyes blazed with anger and outrage. "You l
The sun was rising when Elena finally emerged from the compound gates at last.Squelching boots on gravel, morning dew hanging to the earth like a wet memory. The compound behind her, prison-like all those years, now in quiet pieces behind her. The demons that had haunted her all these years were concealed in dust and blood within.Freedom tasted bitter as it shouldn't have.It wasn't a triumph. It wasn't a shriek. It was locked away. Under control. As if her soul remained behind her body.Killian walked with her, his face granite, his stride off-kilter from combat. He'd said little since the air had purified. So had she. There were too many negative feelings vying for pole position in her heart, and none of them yet did.Ronan is a step, or two, ahead of the rescue team, sterilizing it. Shredded shirt, blood following along his temple, but his calm professionalism still very much present.They'd made it. Victor dead. His kingdom was destroyed. The dangers that had loomed so toweringl
Victor's voice hung in the air, words bitter and poisonous to every one of them. His tone that Elena remembered, was cold and deliberate, a tracker who enjoyed the hunt over the kill.Elena wrapped her hand further around the gun, metal pressing against the flesh of her palm. Killian came up before her, covering, something so automatic she did not even realize that she was doing it."You've played," Killian growled, his words low and menacing. "Tonight, that's it."Victor scoffed again, low-grade. "You're going to try to stop me now? All this?"His eyes flicked over to Elena, his lip curving more sadistic with each second. "And you too, little bird. Thought you flew free of me, didn't you?"Elena's blood turned icy at what he'd just said, but she was not going to back down. She allowed the crawling fear at the edge of her head, but she jammed it in. She was no longer little Elena anymore. She was a person to be feared now. She'd weathered it. And she'd weather this as well."You no lo
Air filled the air, as though it weighed itself down on her chest, and with each breath she took, it was that little bit harder to suck in. She sat behind the big table in the war room, map laid out before her there, eyes scanning the few markers and pins on it marking Victor's known territories. Her hand rested on the paper, the weight of the moment holding it back.Killian was at the far end of the table, his focus unwavering. His jaw was clenched, hands resting on the table in front of him as he went over the strategy again. Ronan was pacing, the tension palpable in every step he took.“We don’t have much time,” Ronan muttered, stopping by the map. “Victor’s moving. It’s like he knows we’re coming.”"He knows," Elena said, her voice frosty. "He's always three steps in front of us. But that's going to stop." Killian glanced at her, his black eyes frosty. "You're right. We need to take him hard and fast before he can regroup himself yet again. When we step inside, there's no turning
The evening had turned into one of strained silence, the kind that clung to the bony and rested heavily on the breast, all pulled tight. The rain had stopped hours earlier, but its bitter odor mixed with the damp coolness of the air, providing no comfort. It was just the empty buzz of the city and the quiet soft hush of wind that broke the stillness as Elena sat at the side of the bed, looking hard into the phone screen in her hand.She'd replayed it the hundredth time that evening. No messages. No news. Just a pain in waiting. In knowing something bad was going to occur, but not when and how it was going to occur.Killian's jacket, which had warmed his body, kept her shoulders covered. It was filled with his scent. Leather. Rain. A flicker of smoke with so much worse. She breathed in deeply, attempting to purify herself amid the pending madness. She did not know if she was doing it to calm her nerves, or perhaps the strange comfort of clinging to him as she could then — by smell, a f
The door snapped shut behind Killian, trapping them inside the tiny apartment, in a storm that wasn't about rain anymore.Elena stood her back to him, her arms wrapped around herself. She could feel the rain off his uniform, the cadence of his pulse-pounding too hard in the charged space between them.Neither of them uttered a word.Neither of them had any idea how.And then, almost like the punctuation on an exhalation, Killian spoke a word. His voice was low, worn to the edge of unrecognizability. "I shouldn't be here."Elena didn't turn. "Then why are you?"A harsh, anguished silence hung between them."Because even when I know that I should let you go. I can't."Her nails dug deep into her arms. She hated how badly she wanted to believe him. How badly she still wanted him, no matter what."You're wet," she said coldly, finally turning to confront him.Killian stood there, dripping on the floor, smiling like a man who'd already lost everything. His hair was plastered to his forehea