The war had begun.Elena sat in her office at Graves Enterprises, staring at the encrypted message on her phone."Watch your back. The next hit is yours."Her fingers tightened around the device, the weight of the threat settling in her chest like a slow-burning fire. She didn't need to guess who it was from. Victor DeLuca was making his move, and he was making sure she knew it.She exhaled slowly, her mind racing. The attack was coming. The only question was—when?A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. Killian strode in, his towering presence instantly filling the room. He looked like he hadn’t slept, his dark suit slightly undone, his usual control slipping beneath the surface."You’re thinking too much," he said, closing the door behind him."And you’re underestimating the situation," Elena shot back, lifting her phone. "DeLuca just made it clear—I’m next."Killian’s jaw tightened as he took the phone from her hand, scanning the mes
The tempest outside was a reflection of the chaos in Elena's mind. The lights in the penthouse cast shadows as she paced back and forth, arms crossed fiercely over her chest. The city lay before her, glittering with power and deception—much like Killian Graves. For years, she had clung to one absolute truth: Killian was the man who destroyed her family. It was the foundation of her revenge, the reason she had crawled her way back up from hell.But Dante's surprise return had shattered that perception.Killian was never blameless… but had she misjudged thinking he was the mastermind? Her hand trembled as she felt for the glass of whiskey on the table. She didn't drink much, but tonight she needed something to still her mind. The burn of the alcohol did not desensitize the rage bubbling beneath her flesh.Far away, she heard the unmistakable sound of the penthouse door sliding open.Killian had returned. Elena turned around as Killian walked in. He still had on his black, tailored sui
The silence was stifling.Elena stood in the dark office, her fingers tightening around the paper she had just extracted from Killian's locked drawer. The paper in her hand was heavier than any weight she had ever borne. Her heart thudded fiercely against her ribcage, and her breathing came in tiny, jagged gasps.She read the words once more, incredulity blending with the agony of seeing what was before her.Killian Graves. The man she adored. The man she loathed. The man who had destroyed her family.Her sight wavered in fury at anger that was spreading through her veins like fire. She was an idiot—playing his game, allowing him to touch her, dominate her. She had let him reach through her armor, and what did it signify? For him to betray her again?A sharp, contemptuous laugh spilled out of her."Elena," Killian's voice caught behind her. Low, deep, but filled with velvet warning.She spun around, holding the contract in her fist. His mask was impassive, but the dark flash in his ey
Elena's heels tapped angrily on the marble floor as she burst out of the Romano mansion, her heart racing with a combination of confusion and anger.Dante's words kept echoing in her head."Killian isn't the man you believe him to be. He's dangerous, Elena. He will shatter you."But wasn't Dante dangerous as well?She clenched her fists, inhaling deeply, trying to sort through the chaos in her head. The past few weeks had turned her world upside down, and now she was left questioning everything. The lines between enemy and ally, love and hate—they were all blurred.She had barely reached her car when she felt his presence behind her.Killian."You’re making a mistake," his deep voice rumbled behind her.Elena whirled fast, sparks of temper jumping into her eyes. "And stalking me again now?"His rough regard held her steady, his tone forceful and stern. "Don't trust Dante. You shouldn't either."Laughing, folding arms at her chest. "You should take my place and trust you?"In an abrupt
Killian's penthouse walls were still when Elena entered, heels tapping softly on the marble floor. The sun's gold poured through the floor-high windows and dropped dark shadows that mirrored the heaviness in her own chest. She couldn't find the strength to struggle anymore. After all that had happened at the company today—the choreographed humiliation, the chill whisper in her ear, "I told you not to disobey me"—her heart was battered beyond repair. Killian stood near the liquor cabinet, pouring himself a drink with calm precision. His black shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up, forearms tense. He didn’t look at her as he spoke. “Take a seat, Elena.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not your pet to be summoned.” Then act like you're not a bad one," he snapped, turning to her at last. His eyes flashed with that all-too-familiar spark—possessiveness tangled with something much worse. She clutched her fists. "What do you want, Killian? You humiliate me in front of the board,
Rain. It rained around her as she walked away from Killian's building. The sky grew dark, in sorrow at what had been lost. Her cheeks stung from the biting wind, but she didn't mind. Anything to keep her thoughts from the storm in her chest.Her high heels clicked on the sidewalk as she navigated city streets, storm clouds above mirroring the storm within. Her head was reeling with one word: Dante.He was alive.Her brother—the one she'd mourned, the sole surviving member of her family—was alive. And Killian had accomplished it in secret.She was standing under the glow of a streetlamp, her body trembling as rain seeped through her shirt. How much more was Killian keeping from her? How much of her own life had been re-scripted for her?She reached into her bag with shaking hands, grabbed her phone, and dialed the only number that might be able to give her any information."Hello?" answered a deep, sleep-roughened voice after several rings."Dominic," she said."Elena? Where the hell ar
Outside the city, the world was still, but in the hotel room, Elena's heart pounded.Killian leaned in the doorway, his eyes begging, his jaw clenched as if he kept the world at its seams by sheer will. Rainwater dripped from his coat onto the hotel floor between them."Say something," he whispered. "Shout. Curse me. Anything but look at me like that."Elena stepped back, wedged against the wall as if room might allow her to breathe. "You stole him from me. You knew he existed all these years.""I never knew for sure. Only guesses. I sent men, Elena. I searched. But by the time I heard what had happened, he was not the same Dante anymore. He was already Victor DeLuca's.""You should have said something!" she screamed, voice cracking. "You made me believe I lost all of them!""And if you did tell me, what?" Killian stepped in, closing the door behind him. His voice was flat, destroyed. "Would you have walked right into DeLuca's hands? Right into your brother's twisted revenge plan?"Sh
The warehouse stood at the city's edge like a sore—weathered, quiet, dark. Elena stepped inside, the soles of her shoes ringing off the floor. Her breathing was labored, as if the air around her mourned what was to come.She saw him before he saw her.Dante Romano.Her brother.He sat at an iron table, spine straight, dark hair longer than she could ever recall. A man hardened by years and by rage. But those eyes—her mother's eyes—remained the same."Dante," she whispered.His head lifted slowly. They didn't move for a moment.Then he stood."Elena," he said, and her name on his lips hit her like a blow. "You're alive."She hadn't expected the feeling that welled up in her chest. She hadn't expected her knees to buckle at the sound of his voice, the way her heart keened like it had been waiting for this moment.She wanted to walk to him. But she didn't.Not after everything."You made me believe you were dead," he said. "You didn't search for me."She took a step forward, wincing away
Elena gazed at the pictures on her phone, shaking her hand in frustration as she scrolled through them one by one. Each picture an open wound afresh—Killian and her father together at that charity event so many years ago, a second one where Killian would show up at the Romano compound days before the attack which had altered everything. And the final picture. Her brother Dante is very much alive. With Victor DeLuca.It didn't add up. Any of it.The penthouse air felt thick, thick upon her chest like a weight she couldn't put down. She paced the living room, Killian's words ringing in her ears from that evening: "You don't know everything, Elena." No. She hadn't. And yet now, slowly, she was discovering.And the truth cut through like a knife cutting through well-made resolve.A door slammed behind her. She turned, already tense. Killian came in, his black top unbuttoned at the collar, showing the soft welts on his collarbone from the last battle. His dark eyes absorbed the charged atm
The hurricane outside mirrored the storm that had tempested Elena's heart. Rain lashed against Killian's penthouse windows, and she didn't notice it. Her back bowed into chilled marble, spine held captive by Killian's, his breathing a soft trickle down her temple."Say it again," he threatened, his warning flavored with danger.Elena's throat constricted as she swallowed hard, dry throat and, pounding heart as she said, "I don't belong to you."His mouth curled into a black smile. "You can fool yourself, Elena. But your body never forgets."He scooted forward and pecked at the curve of her neck, his warmth on the beat of her pulse. She should push him away. Should scream and tell him that he didn't have any right—but her hands remained where they were on the material of his suit jacket, her knees shaking, folding up under his touch."You hate me," Killian growled, pulling his head up far enough to lock gazes. "But you want me to. That's what frightens you."She spat at him, rage mixin
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