LOGINAceA full month has passed since the wedding. I wake up to sunlight cutting through the blinds, Paetyn’s head against my chest, and for a second, I can’t remember what used to keep me up at night. My wife stretches and yawns, still half asleep. Her hair’s a mess, her nightgown slipping off one shoulder, and I can’t stop myself from staring. “Good morning,” she murmurs. “Good morning,” I say. The simplicity of it feels foreign. We don’t have to fight for scraps anymore. We don’t have to dodge, hide, or wonder if the next day will kill us. I roll out of bed, and she gets up with me. We go to the kitchen, and she makes coffee while I skim through updates on my phone. Shipments are moving, and deals are closing. I check the messages. Everything’s in motion, and everything is under control. Life is good.The Seditios run smooth. My men know what they’re doing; they move fast and clean. I don’t need to hover over every little thing. Turns out that treating people with respect earns resp
PaetynRaya bursts into Ace’s apartment with her usual cheerful energy. “Good morning, future Mrs. Dante,” she teases, carrying a notebook filled with fabric swatches, color palettes, and magazine clippings. I laugh, letting her settle on the couch, and pour us both coffee. “We have a lot to do today,” she says, flipping open the notebook. “Flowers first,” I say. “I want champagne, coral, white, and light pink everywhere. My bouquet, the centerpieces, everything.”She nods, smiling. “Soft, feminine, and classic. Nothing that will compete with your gown.” She clicks her pen. “And speaking of the gown, I can't wait to finally go dress shopping today.”I laugh again, feeling the nervous thrill rise in my chest. Planning the wedding has been one thing, but picking my dress? That feels like a fairytale come true. We spend the next hour jotting down ideas, flipping through magazines, circling items in corals, blushes, and creams. By late morning, we head out to the boutique. I trail beh
PaetynI wake to the mattress dipping behind me as Ace slides into bed. I open my eyes and see him lying down beside me. He smells like soap. “You’re home,” I murmur, my voice heavy with sleep.“Yeah,” he says quietly. He brushes his knuckles along my arm. “I’m sorry I woke you.”I roll onto my side to face him. His eyes look tired, rimmed red. “It’s done,” he says. “Enzo’s dead.”“So it’s over?” I ask. “You’re running things now?”He nods, and I’m filled with pride. I reach for him, pressing my lips to his. When our lips part, he yawns. “I’m exhausted,” he admits.“Then sleep,” I say, kissing his cheek. He doesn’t even answer. His arm drapes over my waist, heavy and protective, and within minutes, his breathing evens out, deep and unguarded. I stay still for a while, listening to him breathe. I lay there for a couple of hours, not wanting to disturb his slumber. When I finally slip out of bed, I move quietly. I shower, dress, style my hair, and do my makeup. The city outside is
AceVinny stands near the window in the pool house, watching the patio through the blinds. I sit at the table, waiting. Rocco, Luka, and Marko slipped back inside minutes ago. The plan is to have them blend into the crowd again, making sure Enzo is occupied. Soon, Luka will suggest to some of the tipsy ladies that they should take the party outside to the heated pool and the hot tubs. We hear a commotion, and I rise to peek out another window. A ripple of movement catches my eye. Partygoers start drifting out the doors, laughing, glasses in hand. Then, the girls start peeling off dresses, tossing them on chairs and tables, revealing lingerie beneath, and the first few jump into the pool. Vinny and I don’t move as the patio fills with people. The pool is full of splashing bodies, heels abandoned on the deck. Enzo remains at the center, oblivious. He’s got a pretty blonde woman leaning against him. Both of them laugh as they strip down to their underwear. He moves toward the hot tub
AceI sit at the long table in Enzo’s dining room. The chairs fill with Gambinos I’ve known for years. Men who’ve spilled blood, covered for, and buried secrets for each other. “I got the news this morning,” Marko says. “Subpoena. I’m on the witness list.”“Same,” Rocco adds. “Tomorrow morning.”A couple more nod. They've been called to testify at Enzo’s hearing, which starts in less than twenty-four hours. “I figured,” I say. “That’s why I called you here. If you’re called to testify, you’re going to tell the judge that Enzo was with you all night the night Liam died. That he never set foot near the Lion’s Den.”The room goes still. Everyone looks confused. “What?” Marko asks. “Why would we cover for him now?” Vinny mutters.I nod. “We want him out where we can get to him after the stunt he pulled calling those dirty cops in on us.”“You want to get him out?” Luka asks. “Yes.” I narrow my eyes, my hands in fists beneath the table.“You know he controlled those cops for years,” R
PaetynI flop onto the hotel bed, flipping the remote with the kind of lazy boredom that comes from too many hours spent staring out the window. The news is on, and I watch without really watching, until a familiar name makes me sit up a little straighter. Enzo Gambino. My stomach churns. The news anchor is talking about his upcoming hearing, set for next week. I wonder if there will be enough evidence to convict him. I know what he’s capable of, how slippery he is, how he can twist facts, charm juries, and slip through cracks that seem too small to notice. Part of me worries that he’ll find a way out of prison before he even stands trial. I click the TV off and stare at the ceiling, letting my thoughts spiral, imagining him walking free while Liam’s face haunts me in every corner of my mind.The phone rings, cutting through the dark spiral of worry before it has the chance to swallow me whole. Ace and Raya are the only people with my new number. I answer the phone and hear Ace’s vo
Paetyn POVThe room is beautiful. Lavish, even. Heavy, red velvet curtains frame the windows, thick enough to block out the sun. The windows themselves are tall and grid-style. The middle one contains a cushioned seat. A large four-poster bed with matching curtains sits against one wall, flanked by
Ace POVDad?! I stare at Paetyn, look at the unknown boss, then back again. “This is your father?” She nods slowly. “Yes.” “Fucking hell. You never told me he was a part of this life,” I say. “I didn’t know,” she mumbles back. “This can’t be happening.” I can hear the hopeful desperation in her
Paetyn’s POVI’m separated from Ace. I don’t have him by my side, and I feel unsafe. Even with him bound and kneeling on the ground, as long as he was near me, and his eyes were on me, everything felt like it would turn out okay. Now? In this black SUV with these strange armed men? It’s all I can d
Paetyn’s POVI sit in Ace’s new black Escalade, hugging my laptop and watching as he carries another load of stuff out. This time, it’s my clothes. I can see it’s not just clothes I left there, but clothes I left at Liam’s. A question niggles at the corner of my mind. I try to think of how to frame







