Mag-log inDaniel’s POVThe drive back from the Pierre Hotel was dead silent, but the air inside the armored Maybach was thick enough to choke on. Eden sat between Silas and me, her silver gown ruined, safety pins holding the back together where Felix and Luca had ripped it open in the coatroom. She smelled like expensive champagne, adrenaline, and my brothers' sweat. Which I knew; one of them or two had already fucked her. The thought of that made my dick hard.She was staring out the window, her fingers tracing the heavy silver Moretti ring on her hand. She thought she was a queen now because she held the shares. She thought she was untouchable because she’d broken Arthur Vane with a single sentence.She was about to learn that the higher you climb in this family, the tighter the leash gets.The moment the car pulled into the mansion’s courtyard, Silas didn't wait for the driver. He threw the door open, grabbed Eden by the wrist, and hauled her out. She stumbled, her heels clicking sharply aga
Felix’s POVThe Grand Ballroom of the Pierre Hotel was a sea of shimmering silk, fake smiles, and the heavy, cloying scent of old money. I stood on the mezzanine, leaning against the gilded railing with a glass of champagne I had no intention of finishing. Below me, the elite of Manhattan moved like schools of fish—vulnerable, shiny, and utterly oblivious to the shark in the water.Tonight wasn't just a party. It was a coronation. And my brothers and I were the ones holding the crown."She looks like a goddamn miracle," Luca muttered, stepping up beside me. He was still in his sling, but he’d traded the tactical gear for a bespoke midnight-blue tux. His eyes were glued to the centre of the floor.I followed his gaze. Eden—or Aiden, as the dark, hidden parts of her soul whispered—was standing under the main chandelier. She was draped in a gown of liquid silver that clung to every curve we had spent the last few weeks marking. The Moretti ring glinted on her finger, a middle finger to e
Eden’s POVThe mansion was too quiet, yet I could feel the walls breathing. That was the thing about living with the Schmidts—you were never actually alone. Privacy wasn't a right here; it was a luxury they handed out in small, measured doses, and today, my cup was dry.I woke up late, my body still heavy with the memory of Silas and Daniel. The silver ring on my finger felt like it weighed five pounds. I tried to slip out of bed without waking Luca, who was sprawled across the silk sheets like a fallen god, his breathing deep and rhythmic. I moved like a ghost, bare feet hitting the cold marble, wanting nothing more than ten minutes of silence and a cup of coffee that didn't come with a side of power plays.I made it as far as the second-floor landing before the illusion of freedom shattered.Felix was leaning against the railing, tossing a heavy brass lighter into the air and catching it with a snick. He wasn’t dressed for the day yet, wearing only pajama pants that hung low on his
Eden’s POVThe silver ring felt heavy on my finger—a cold, physical reminder of the man I’d ended and the king who had crowned me on a leather-topped table. I walked into the sunroom, the morning light cutting through the floor-to-ceiling windows with a sharpness that made my head ache.The table was set. The smell of black coffee, thick-cut bacon, and expensive cigars filled the air. They were all there. Daddy sat at the head, his face a mask of calm satisfaction. Luca looked tired but proud, his arm in a fresh sling. Felixwas scrolling through a tablet, a smirk playing on his lips as he read the morning’s damage reports. But it was Silas and Daniel I noticed most. They weren't eating. They were watching the door.I took my seat at the opposite end of the table. As I reached for the coffee carafe, the sunlight caught the Moretti ring.The room went silent.Silas’s eyes locked onto the silver band. His jaw tightened, the muscles in his neck cording like steel cables. Daniel didn't say
Eden’s POVThe bed was still warm with Luca’s scent, but the room was too quiet. Luca was out cold, his arm draped across the space where I’d been lying just moments before. I stood by the window, wrapped in a dark robe, looking out at the sprawling grounds of the mansion. The victory feast felt like a lifetime ago. The adrenaline had faded, leaving behind a cold, sharp hunger that sleep couldn't fix.A soft knock at the door made me turn. It wasn't one of the brothers. It was a man I recognized from the security detail."He’s waiting for you in the library," the man said, his voice low.He didn't have to say who. There was only one person who summoned at four in the morning.I walked through the darkened hallways, the silk of my robe whispering against my legs. The house felt different tonight. The air was charged, heavy with the aftermath of the Bronx and the knowledge that the world outside was smaller now. I reached the double oak doors of the library and pushed them open.Daddy w
Luca’s POVThe adrenaline from the Bronx was still humming under my skin like a live wire. My knuckles were bruised, my shirt was ruined, and the smell of the city—smoke, rain, and old blood—was clinging to me. We’d had the feast Grandpa ordered, a heavy, silent meal of red meat and expensive wine, but I couldn't taste any of it. My eyes were fixed on the girl at the end of the table.Eden. She’d sat there with Moretti’s blood practically still under her fingernails, wearing that gold crest like it had grown there. She didn't look like a victim anymore. She looked like the eye of the storm.When she excused herself to go upstairs, I waited exactly three minutes before I pushed back my chair and followed. None of my brothers stopped me. They knew. We were all vibrating with the same dark energy, but I was the one who reached the stairs first.I didn't knock. I walked into the master suite and heard the hiss of the shower behind the frosted glass. I stripped my clothes off in the middle
Eden’s POVThe warehouse smelled of wet concrete and ozone, a damp, heavy cold that seeped into my bones through the tears in my dress. I was zip-tied to a rusted pipeshaft in a corner of the basement, my jaw aching from where the man with the scarred throat had backhanded me 18 hours ago.His name
Daniel’s POVThe file on Deacon Arthur Vance made my fucking skin crawl. It wasn't just the abuse; it was the meticulous, holy-rolling theater he used to cloak it. This prick didn't just break children; he did it in the name of a god he didn't believe in, using a pulpit as a hunting blind.He was t
Daniel’s POVThe basement of the old warehouse on the outskirts of the city was a far cry from the refined, leather-scented dungeon of my estate. This place was raw. It smelled of damp concrete, rusted iron, and the pervasive, cloying scent of fear. I had chosen it for its lack of history, a blank
Luca’s POVThe penthouse of the Grand Regency felt like a gilded cage. It was the kind of place my father sent people when he wanted them out of his sight but still under his thumb. As I stood in the foyer, the scent of expensive lilies and stale gin hit me, a fragrance that had become Lilian’s sig







