Elena sat on the edge of her penthouse balcony, a glass of whiskey in her hand, staring out at the Manhattan skyline. The city lights flickered like embers in the dark, but her mind wasn’t on their beauty.It was on him.Killian Graves.Every interaction with him felt like dancing on the edge of a blade—dangerous, sharp, intoxicating.But she wasn’t here to get lost in the past.She was here to end him.Her phone buzzed beside her.A message.Victor DeLuca: "We need to talk. Tonight. The club."Elena smirked. Right on time.Victor was powerful—one of Killian’s biggest enemies in the underworld. If she was going to bring Killian down, she needed someone just as ruthless to back her.She downed the rest of her drink and stood.It was time to set the next phase of her plan into motion.Across the city, Killian leaned against the massive glass windows of his office, his whiskey untouched on the desk behind him.His mind was still reeling from his encounter with Elena at the masquerade bal
Elena sat in the dim glow of her penthouse, perched on the edge of her leather couch, staring out at the sprawling skyline.The whiskey in her glass remained untouched, the ice cubes slowly melting.Her body was still wound tight from the events of the night before.Killian had played her like a master. He had humiliated her, destroyed her leverage, and made her look like a fool.But worst of all?He had done it on purpose—not just to win, but to toy with her.Her fingers curled into a fist.She should have anticipated it.Killian Graves never fights fair.The memory of his voice from earlier echoed in her mind.“You underestimated me. That was your first mistake.”Her jaw clenched.If he thought this was over, he was wrong.Her phone vibrated beside her. She picked it up, expecting Victor—expecting threats or a demand for an explanation.But instead, the screen flashed with an unknown number.She hesitated before answering.“Elena Romano.”The voice on the other end was smooth, calcu
Elena stood on the balcony of her penthouse, the wind teasing the silk of her robe as she clutched the note Killian had left on her bed.Her home—the one place that was supposed to be untouchable—had been breached.Not by assassins. Not by rivals.But by Killian Graves.Her pulse pounded in her ears as she reread the words scrawled in his unmistakable, arrogant handwriting:"Nice try, sweetheart. But you’re walking straight into my trap."A trap.Her grip on the paper tightened.She hated how he did this—how he always made the first move, always got under her skin. But what she hated more was the fact that a part of her… liked it.Liked the danger.Liked him.Her phone vibrated, and she grabbed it from the table. Another message from an unknown number.Are you scared yet?She let out a slow breath, willing her heartbeat to steady. She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.Instead of replying, she deleted the message and tossed the phone back onto the table.If Killian thought she was g
Elena stormed into her penthouse, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts. Her fingers tingled from where they had gripped Killian’s suit, from where they had pulled him closer instead of pushing him away. She yanked open the minibar and poured herself a glass of whiskey, barely registering the burn as she downed it in one go. What the hell had she done? She had kissed him. Killian Graves. Her enemy. Not just kissed him—she had let herself feel something. And that was dangerous. Because men like Killian? They destroyed women like her. The soft chime of her security system alerted her that someone was outside. A second later, her phone buzzed. Unknown Number. Open the door, sweetheart. She let out a bitter laugh. Of course. Because Killian Graves never let anything go. She walked to the door, took a deep breath, and swung it open. Killian leaned against the doorframe, looking infuriatingly calm. His shirt was slightly rumpled from the fight, but his eyes were sharp,
Elena yanked her wrist free from Killian’s grip, her chest rising and falling with barely contained fury. The cold night air did nothing to soothe the fire raging inside her. "You don’t get to decide where I go, Graves," she snapped, stepping back to put distance between them. Killian’s jaw tensed, his dark eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her insides coil. "And you don’t get to play reckless when Victor DeLuca wants your head on a silver platter." She hated that he was right. Hated that she could still feel his touch, his grip lingering on her skin like a brand. And worst of all? She hated that beneath all the fury and tension, there was something else. Something dangerous. Because Killian Graves wasn’t just another powerful man. He was a storm. And Elena was standing in the middle of it, daring the lightning to strike. But she wasn’t a woman who backed down. She straightened, crossing her arms. "You don’t scare me, Killian." His lips curled, slow and de
Elena had lived in danger before. She had been hunted, betrayed, and forced to survive in a world where trust was a weakness. But living under Killian Graves' protection? That was something else entirely. Because he wasn’t just her shield against Victor DeLuca. He was the fire threatening to consume her. And that fire was getting closer. When Elena woke, the room was bathed in the golden hues of sunrise. The scent of leather and expensive cologne lingered in the air, a subtle reminder of who owned this space. And now—who owned her. She sat up, brushing the sleep from her eyes. The penthouse was silent, the kind of eerie stillness that made her feel watched. She hated that feeling. She wasn’t a prisoner. Not really. But she wasn’t free, either. With a sigh, she climbed out of bed, slipping into the silk robe she found on the chaise lounge. It fit perfectly—too perfectly. Killian had planned for this. For her. Her stomach tightened as she padded barefoo
A War That Had Just Begun The scent of gunpowder and blood thickened the air, mingling with the rich aroma of leather and expensive cologne. Elena pressed her back against the heavy wooden desk, her heart hammering in her chest as she tried to make sense of the chaos unraveling before her. Killian disappeared into the storm of bullets like a shadow of death, his every move precise, effortless, and devastating. This wasn’t just an attack. This was a declaration of war. And Killian was answering with blood. The gunshots echoed through the penthouse, shaking the very foundations of the luxurious fortress she had thought was impenetrable. But nothing was untouchable—not even Killian Graves. Not even her. ________________________________________ No Mercy She forced herself to move, crouching behind the desk. Her breath was ragged, her hands trembling as the reality of the situation set in. These men weren’t here to rob them. They weren’t here to negotiate. T
Elena stood frozen, her breath shallow as Killian’s men cleaned up the bodies. The scent of blood still hung thick in the air, mixing with the acrid stench of gunpowder and death. The once-pristine penthouse was now a crime scene, but in Killian’s world, murder wasn’t a crime—it was business. Her gaze flickered to the lifeless forms on the floor, their black-clad bodies now nothing more than reminders of how easily life could be snuffed out. She should have been horrified. She should have felt disgusted. But all she felt was cold. The blood on the marble floor would be wiped away. The bullet holes repaired. The bodies disposed of as if they had never existed. This was Killian’s world. And for the first time, she realized—she was standing in it. Killian stood near the shattered glass windows, his phone pressed against his ear, voice clipped and lethal. "I want every inch of this city watched. Victor DeLuca is a dead man walking," he said, his tone devoid of emotion. Elena s
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