LOGINLiam's POV
My eyes cracked open to a dead room, sticky with sweat and stale sex. The sheets beneath me were crumpled, stained, and cold. The stranger was gone. No goodbye. No note. Just....gone. The clock blinked 6:47 AM. My skull throbbed like a jackhammer was stuck inside it. I stumbled out of bed, legs still weak, my body aching in the most humiliatingly satisfying places. I didn’t even have time to process it before panic set in. Today was- Shit. The engagement. My birthday!. My life falling apart in a three-piece suit. I took the fastest shower of my existence, scrubbing every inch of him off me, but the scent still lingered a little, coffee, rain, and sweat. I rinsed, dressed, and snuck out of the hotel with the speed of someone escaping a crime scene. Thankful for having my wallet intact, I took a cab and got home. I crept up the stairs like a thief. Opened my bedroom door, only to be greeted by streamers, champagne bottles, and staff with party hats yelling, "Surprise!" My temples nearly split in half from the noise. "Look who came back." my father’s voice cut through the crowd like a blade. "Do try to act sober in the next hour, Liam. This engagement is not a joke." He stepped forward, tall and iron-faced. The same glare that had haunted my childhood. "I-" My voice was gravel. "Father, just listen. I don’t know this woman. Can’t we push this? Or cancel it? Or-" "No," he said coldly. "You’ll marry Avery Maddox, and that is final. The Maddox name will boost our holdings in West Ark. You were born to serve this legacy, not chase irrational feelings of love." I clenched my fists. There was no winning with him. He always had to be right. ~ I was lost in thought in the middle of the living room, it had been picked and prepped with lush birthday decorations for me, and people were wine-ing and dining. Whilst, I, yours truly, was still suffering from a hangover headache. And my ass was still sore, aching, flushing my cheeks whenever the memory of last night creeped into my thoughts. "I think she's here." I heard people whisper. I looked up, already painfully guessing whom they were talking about. The double doors creaked open, and in came Avery. She was dressed like springtime elegance, soft pastels, a smile that tried too hard. My stomach turned and I almost had a seizure, not because of her, but because of who followed behind her. Someone tall. Broad. Dark curls and thick lashes. A jawline that haunted my thighs. And forest green eyes that looked up at me sensually, while I rode him the night before. I blinked. He blinked back. No fucking way. "Liam," Avery beamed, walking over and grabbing my hand. "You look pale, did I outdo my outfit?" She giggled. She stepped aside. "Oh, forgive my manners. This is my brother," she said casually, "Jackson Maddox. He flew in from Carrington yesterday to attend the engagement." Jackson’s lips curved into that same wicked smirk he gave me before filling me up in a hotel room. "Nice to meet you, Liam Sinclair," he said, extending a hand. I stared. My hole clenched in panic. This couldn’t be happening. He was Avery’s brother. And I had begged him to wreck me hours ago. And now, he was looking at me like he planned to do it again. ~ My fingers twitched at my side, and then a tall champagne glass tipped over by accident, touched the edge of a nearby plate, and collapsed to the floor in a shatter of glass. All attention turned to me. I lowered my head and panicked on the inside. "What happened?" my father barked, his voice echoing over the soft music. I opened my mouth, but air came out instead of words. Before I could stammer a reply, he was there, his shoulders squared, cutting through the crowd with his disappointment already loaded and aimed. And right behind him? Was Jackson. Of course. "Are you alright?" my father asked roughly. "I-yes. It was just-" My voice died under his glare. He turned toward Jackson, extending his hand with the stiff pride of a man who was shaking not for courtesy, but for business strategy. "You must be Avery’s brother. Jackson, was it?" Jackson’s eyes flicked to me before grasping my father’s hand. "Yes, sir. Pleasure to meet you." My limbs seized up like I'd been tasered. Then it came, my turn. Jackson extended his hand again, like we were strangers, like he hadn’t had me gasping and whimpering less than twelve hours ago. My own hand was reluctant, twitching like it knew better. But there was no escaping the stage we stood on. Our palms met. He was warm. Mine was sweaty. Then Avery, all petal show and perfume, slipped between us like a ribbon of caramelized sugar. "Liam, you look so sharp today," she cooed, wrapping her arms around mine, pressing her cheek to my shoulder. "Almost like you’re trying to impress me." I forced a chuckle, my body stiff as a mannequin's. She didn’t notice. After a second, Avery pulled away, channeling her attention to my father who was acting overly sweet. Jackson leaned in close. Close enough to make me flinch, to steal the air between us. Noticing my tense expression. "I liked you better when you were riding me," he whispered. A bolt of panic shot through my spine. My knees almost buckled. Then my father's voice interrupted the moment. "Photo time. Front display, come here son." He cooed. I walked like a marionette, moving without feeling. Avery clung to my side, a perfect pastel picture of bliss. I posed. I smiled, maybe I died a little. Flash. Flash. Flash. Every click seemed like a funeral to me. "I’ll just.....step outside for a second," I murmured, already turning before anyone could object. The garden was quieter, but it didn’t soothe me like it always had. My thoughts consumed me. A time machine. That’s what I needed. To go back in time and completely avoid the club and hotel. "You look like you’re one breath away from collapsing." My spine straightened as I heard his voice, I did not expect him to follow me. "You followed me," I muttered, my fingers clenching the railing. Jackson stepped into view, casually, "I was curious,” he said. "Wanted to know if you fainted out here." "Not yet," I turned to face him, "I didn't know you were Avery's brother." His gaze searched mine. "I didn’t know that you were her fiancé. Not until this moment." I shook my head, half in disbelief, half in despair. "This is a nightmare." "Then start living in it." Jackson said, stepping closer, his fingers brushing a loose strand of my hair and tucking it softly behind my ear, "because I am interested in keeping you.”Third person's POV The prison visiting room smelled like industrial cleaning solution and decades of bad decisions.Liam Sinclair sat across from his father at 7:15 PM. The table between them was bolted to the floor. The guard by the door was watching them with the particular attention reserved for inmates whose charges involved federal conspiracy and attempted murder.Astor Sinclair looked smaller than Liam remembered. Not diminished. His father would never be diminished. But compressed somehow. Like the walls of the cell were already reshaping him into something that fit their dimensions."You came," Astor said. His voice was neutral. Neither pleased nor surprised."I need information," Liam said flatly. "You're the only person who might have it."Astor's mouth curved slightly. Not quite a smile. "Straight to business. I taught you that.""You taught me a lot of things." Liam's tone didn't change. "Most of them wrong."The guard shifted position slightly. Astor ignored him."Wha
Third person's POV The photograph arrived on Liam's phone at 4:47 PM.He looked at it for seven seconds without speaking.Jackson was across the room, standing at the window with his back to the light. He'd been there since they'd returned from the briefing, watching the street below without comment. The silence between them had stopped being uncomfortable somewhere around the second hour."Jackson," Liam said.Jackson turned. Something in Liam's voice made him cross the room quickly.Liam held out the phone.Jackson took it. Looked at the screen. His expression didn't change for three full seconds.Then it did."That's—" Jackson stopped. Started again. "That's not possible.""Sometimes somethings are impossible and sometimes nothing is impossible. So here in this situation, I'm so certain that it is true. Janet recovered it from a corrupted file," Liam said quietly. "Legacy corporate records from 2003. The only Marcus Jefferson that connects to the addresses we've been tracking."Ja
Third Person's POVThe West Ark contract had a face.Two faces, precisely — Mateo Reyes and Elena Reyes, brother and sister, the visible architecture of a deal that had moved enough money to fund a small government and had done so through a structure elegant enough that three separate regulatory bodies had looked at it on three separate occasions and found nothing worth pursuing. Carlos Reyes, a name that rarely comes out among others of their family. Carlos always gets the low rating because he always hid his hardness behind Mateo and Elena, respectively. The Reyes family was old money in the specific Mexican sense — not narco money, or not exclusively, but the kind of generational wealth that had survived long enough to develop legitimacy the way sediment develops into stone, layer by layer, until the original material was no longer the point.Mateo had been the operational face. He had attended the meetings, signed the documents, appeared in the photographs that existed in the plac
Third Person's POVThe phone rang at 7:14 in the morning, which was how Morgana knew it was Henri.Henri Voss had three rules about communication that he had maintained without deviation for as long as she had known him. He never used the same line twice for sensitive information. He never called after nine in the evening, because evenings were for the kind of thinking that required no interruption. And he never called at a civilized hour when he had found something that mattered, because finding things that mattered had a way of making sleep irrelevant.She was already awake. She had been awake since four, which was not unusual. Sleep had been a negotiation since the year her son died, something she approached carefully and lost regularly, and she had long since made peace with the hours between four and seven as her own — a stretch of time that belonged to no one and therefore belonged entirely to her.She answered on the second ring."You found something," she said. Not a question.
Third Person's POVThe tie was wrong.Jackson stood in front of the mirror in the hotel bathroom and adjusted it for the fourth time, and it was still wrong, and he understood with a clarity that it had nothing to do with neckwear that the tie was not the problem. The tie was just the thing his hands were doing while his mind worked on something it could not yet put into language."You are going to be late," Liam said from the doorway."I know.""The board has confirmed the press briefing for eleven. Emily has the statement ready to read if you do not want to speak directly. But we both know you are going to speak directly.""I know that too." Jackson looked at his own reflection with the detached assessment of someone checking that the external version was holding together regardless of the internal situation. Suit. Tie that was still slightly wrong. Face that had the controlled neutrality he had been practicing since he was old enough to understand that Maddox men did not show thing
The Hunter and the HuntedThird Person's POVThe parking garage on Delancey Street had forty-three surveillance cameras.Danny Finn had counted them over three days of reconnaissance, mapping blind spots, identifying the fourteen cameras that were either broken, poorly angled, or pointed at sections of wall that had not changed since the garage was built in 1987. He had planned his route through the structure with the precision of a man who had spent nine years learning that the difference between finding someone and being found was exactly the kind of patience that grief, if it did not destroy you, eventually taught.He had been careful.He had been thorough.He had been wrong.---Three days earlier, Danny had picked up Dollar Fabs's trail through a contact in the chemical distribution network — a man who imported specialty solvents and knew every buyer in the region with the kind of granular memory that only survived through genuine fear of being on the wrong side of an inventory d
The evening light filtered through the tall windows of the Sinclair mansion's study, making a long shadows across the rug. Mr. Astor Sinclair stood near his desk, his face tight with frustration as he stared at his daughter-in-law."I don't understand why you want Liam so badly. He cheated on you!
Third Person's POVJackson picked up his papers and walked out of the boardroom. His hands were shaking a little. He found a quiet spot near the window and pulled out his phone. His fingers moved fast as he typed a message to Liam."Board meeting happening now. Not sure how it will go."Three dots
Third Person's POVLiam leaned in and kissed Jackson deeply, their lips meeting with the familiar intensity that had defined their relationship from the beginning. Jackson responded immediately, his hand moving to cup the back of Liam's neck as they held each other in the privacy of the chairman's
Third Person's POV"Lower your voice," Astor hissed, glancing toward the hallway where staff might be listening."Or what? What else can possibly go wrong?"Astor didn't have an answer for that. He waited, watching her face. Something was wrong with the way she was talking. Damn it, he knew she mus







