Chapter Thirteen

The heavy door of the armored SUV clicked shut, instantly sealing out the sound of the roaring downpour.

I sat there, a shivering, dripping mess of neon-pink tulle, bleeding water onto the immaculate black leather passenger seat. The blast of the vehicle’s high-powered heater hit my frozen skin like a physical wave, making me shudder violently as goosebumps erupted across my arms. My teeth rattled so loudly in the quiet cabin that it was embarrassing.

Damon didn't say a word. He didn't offer a gentle smile, he didn't hand me a towel, and he didn't ask if I was okay. He simply reached into the back seat, grabbed his heavy, oversized leather jacket, and tossed it into my lap. It smelled heavily of rich tobacco, rain, and the distinct, metallic tang of gun oil.

"Put it on," he commanded, pulling the SUV away from the curb with a smooth, dangerous acceleration that pushed me back into the seat. "Before you completely ruin my interior."

I didn't have the energy to fight him or point out how heartless he was being. I pulled the heavy leather over my shoulders, burying myself in his warmth. The jacket was massive on me, completely swallowing the ridiculous, suffocating gown Theo had trapped me in. It felt like armor.

"Kai froze you out, and Theo dressed you like a clown," Damon murmured, his dark eyes fixed on the slick, rain-blurred road ahead. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it with a silver Zippo. The flame briefly illuminated the harsh, ruthless lines of his face. He took a long drag, flicking the ash out a tiny crack in the window. "Childish. They’re just annoyed the board gave you a leash, so they play playground pranks to make you run back to the slums."

"It felt less like a prank and more like torture," I muttered, hugging the jacket tighter around myself, letting the heat thaw my frozen limbs.

"That’s because you don't know what real torture looks like, little moth." Damon turned the steering wheel with one hand, his inked knuckles flexing effortlessly against the leather. "Theo doesn't care about the board, and Kai only cares about his servers. They just want you out of their hair. But Lucien? Lucien wants you gone because he thinks you're a threat to his absolute control over this family."

I looked at his sharp profile in the dim light of the dashboard. "And what do you want, Damon?"

A dark, slow smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. Instead of answering, he pulled the SUV into a secluded, dimly lit corner of the penthouse's private underground garage, killing the engine. The sudden silence in the dark garage made my heart trip over itself.

Damon turned in his seat, leaning across the center console until he was completely invading my space. He was so close I could smell the smoke on his breath. He reached out, his thick, tattooed fingers catching a damp strand of my hair and tucking it slowly behind my ear and then slowly it traced the exposure of my laps. His touch wasn't a caress; it was heavy, possessive, and entirely unapologetic.

"I told you the night I shot Jace," he whispered, his deep, gravelly voice vibrating in the enclosed space. "You’re my asset now. I saved your life in that alley, and I just saved you from pneumonia. I’m collecting on your promise of obedience."

"I haven't forgotten," I breathed, my lungs feeling incredibly tight under the pressure of his gaze.

"Good. Because Lucien thinks his corporate suits and boardroom meetings are what keep this family on top. He’s an ungrateful prince who forgets that without my shadows, his glass castle would have shattered years ago." Damon’s eyes narrowed, pinning me in place like a predator handling a prize. "You’re his new image manager. You’re going to have access to his private schedule, his gala notes, and his guest lists. I want everything."

"You want me to spy on the CEO."

"I want you to help me remind my brother who actually holds the power in this city," Damon corrected, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw with a dangerous, slow pressure that made my breath hitch. "Give me the access codes Kai gave you today. And every time Lucien takes a step, you tell me first. Do we have a deal, Scarlett?"

I looked at his hand, then up into his dark, ruthless eyes. In this house, Lucien was the ice that would freeze me out, but Damon was the fire that could burn me alive. And right now, the fire felt a lot more protective than the cold.

If I could bring them together and tame their wildness, I very much need to get close to them personally.

"We have a deal," I whispered.

"Smart girl," he murmured, releasing my jaw and hitting the button to open the private elevator.

Damon walked me right through the front doors of the penthouse, his arm resting heavily over my shoulders, keeping me tucked against his side. I was practically swimming in his leather jacket, the muddy pink tulle of Theo's dress peeking out from underneath like a crumpled flower.

As the elevator doors opened directly into the main living room, the atmosphere instantly froze.

Lucien was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, a glass of amber scotch in his hand. Theo was sprawled on the velvet sofa, scrolling through his phone with a bored expression. When they heard the elevator chimes, both of them looked up.

Theo’s eyes widened, a sudden flash of genuine surprise crossing his face before he quickly masked it with a lazy, arrogant grin. "Well, look at that. The little bird found her way home. And she’s... wearing a very large coat."

Lucien didn't smile. His gaze snapped from my rain-drenched face, down to the heavy leather jacket wrapped tightly around me, and finally landed on Damon’s hand, which was still resting possessively on my shoulder. The faint hint of guilt I'd seen in Lucien earlier vanished, replaced by a volatile, suffocating rage.

"Damon," Lucien said, his voice dropping to a terrifying, quiet register that made the hairs on my arms stand up. "What is she doing with you?"

"Cleaning up your messes. Again," Damon taunted, intentionally not removing his hand. He looked at Lucien with pure defiance, his smirk widening. "Your 'Social Liaison' was sitting in the mud two blocks away because your little brothers don't know how to share their toys. If you want her to manage our image for the board, Lucien, maybe you should make sure she survives the week."

Lucien stepped forward, slamming his scotch glass down onto the marble coffee table with a violent crack that made Theo’s grin instantly fade. He ignored Damon entirely, his burning, furious glare locked solely on me.

"Take off the jacket, Scarlett," Lucien commanded, his chest rising and falling with a heavy, controlled anger. "Now."

I froze, caught between the two titans. Damon’s grip on my shoulder tightened, a silent command to stay put, while Lucien stepped even closer, his jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. The silent, suffocating rivalry between whose power truly ran the Hart empire was threatening to tear the room apart.

But before I could choose which brother to cross, the heavy mahogany front doors of the penthouse penthouse entrance clicked.

A courier in a dark uniform stepped into the foyer, holding a silver tray. "Apologies for the interruption, Mr. Hart. A private delivery arrived for Ms. Scarlett. The sender insisted it bypassed the lower security desk."

The tension in the room snapped. Lucien flicked his eyes to the courier, his brow furrowing. "Who sent it?"

"There was no name, sir. Only a seal."

The courier stepped forward, extending the silver tray. Resting on it was a small, velvet-lined box. But it wasn't the box that made my breath completely vanish from my lungs.

Tucked into the ribbon was a single, pristine white marigold, the exact flower used in Mediterranean funeral arrangements. And pinned to the stem was a small, elegant card with handwriting that made my nightmares flash before my eyes.

I reached out with a trembling hand, plucking the card. It read:

I told you I'll always find you, My darling. See you at the Gala. — V.

The card slipped from my fingers, fluttering onto the marble floor. Both Lucien and Damon looked down at it, their eyes widening in sudden, sharp recognition as the name Vincenzo practically screamed from the paper.

I looked up at the brothers, my heart hammering a frantic, terrified rhythm against my ribs. The war inside the house didn't matter anymore. The monster outside had just found the keys.