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“You really think a chrome leash makes me yours?” Timothy’s voice was a jagged shard of glass, his pulse thrumming frantically against the cold metal of the Blackwell collar. Kan leaned in, the scent of expensive bourbon and gunpowder clinging to him. He captured Timothy’s chin, forcing those defiant lavender eyes to meet his own. “It doesn’t make you mine, little ghost. It just keeps you still long enough for me to show you why you’ll never want to leave.” Behind him, Gideon’s shadow fell over them both, heavy and suffocating. “Careful, Kan,” the enforcer rumbled, his knuckles still stained with the blood of the men who’d tried to stop them. “He’s a reaper. He doesn't want a home. He wants a body count.” One Ghost. Two Predators. No Escape. Timothy Gal is a shadow. A high-level operative for the Nash Rebellion, he’s spent his life as a nameless tool in the war-torn Sopttyi District. He doesn’t feel, he doesn’t miss, and he certainly doesn't belong to anyone. But when a routine surveillance mission in Saati Town goes south, he catches the eye of the two most dangerous men in the Blackwell Mafia. Gideon Blackwell is the muscle—a man of controlled violence and territorial hunger. Kan Nelblack is the mind—a predator with a silver tongue and a taste for absolute submission. They don’t just want Timothy’s secrets. They want his soul.
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The Blackwell Claim 53
"Yes." Timothy's neck corded as he twisted to look at the large man behind him. "And you’re mine. Both of you."Gideon’s tongue swiped a hot, wet path across Timothy’s shoulder blade. "Ready for the real weight, Tim? Both of us. At once."Timothy’s stomach did a slow, heavy roll. He gave a sharp nod. They’d spent a week breaking him in with silicon and teasing, but the bastards had held back the real thing. They wanted the Blackwell capos to witness the exact moment Timothy was split open by the pair of them. With the way his blood was already humming, he was more than ready to take the hit.Gideon’s hand flattened against Timothy’s spine, shoving him forward until his chest crushed against Kan’s cold, smooth skin.Kan’s breath hitched as Gideon reached down, slicking Timothy’s backside with a heavy layer of lubricant. Fingers pressed in—one, then two—stretching him with a brutal, rhythmic patience. Gideon didn't stop until Timothy was a gasping, shivering mess, his fingers clawing at
Last Updated : 2026-03-26The Blackwell Claim 52
"Stop that!" Lydia barked, swatting Timothy’s hand away from his tie before hooking her arm firmly through his. She leaned in, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous gravel. "You don't have to do this, Tim. Say the word and we'll shoot our way out of here."Timothy squared his shoulders, the movement sharp enough to make the silk of his vest strain. He notched his chin up, his jaw a hard line of granite. "I'm doing it." He exhaled, the sound a ragged whistle. "I want this for them. And for whatever kids we end up having to protect."The weight of that reality anchored him. The shaking in his hands died.Arm-in-arm with Lydia, Timothy stepped into the Ceremonial Chamber. It smelled of floor wax, expensive tobacco, and the stifling scent of lilies. In the center sat the stage: a king-size bed draped in heavy white silk that looked like an altar. The Blackwell capos were already seated, a gallery of stone-faced killers in tailored suits. The only empty chair was the one next to Lydia’s h
Last Updated : 2026-03-25The Blackwell Claim 51
The Great Hall was a tomb of silence, the only sound the low, rhythmic thrum of Blackwell soldiers hitting their palms against their thighs. Timothy stood between the two men, the silk of his low-slung trousers feeling like a thin membrane between him and the predatory gaze of the capos.Gideon moved with a jagged, hungry energy. He didn't wait for a signal. He dropped to his knees, his large hands clamping onto Timothy's outer thighs. His fingers dug into the silk, bunching the expensive material upward. Kan, still seated on the edge of the bed, shoved his hands into the front of Timothy's beaded vest. His thumbs hooked under the fabric, flicking back and forth across Timothy's nipples with a bruising pressure that made Timothy’s jaw creak."Red, Kan," Gideon rasped, his voice vibrating against Timothy's skin as he shoved the silk trousers down to Timothy's knees. He stared at the deep red silk thong, the bold color clashing violently against Timothy's pale skin. "Lace. He wore red l
Last Updated : 2026-03-23The Blackwell Claim 50
"Cut the crap, Timothy." Lydia's hand was a warm weight on his shoulder, her grip tightening when he tried to pull away. "You know you don't have to put on a show for these vultures if you don't want to."Timothy shoved his hands into his pockets, his jaw tight enough to snap. He stared at his reflection—the sharp undercut, the black silk, the look of a man about to be owned. "I’m doing it. For them. For whatever happens next. I’m not leaving our future to chance."The weight of the decision settled in his gut like lead. He wasn't just joining a family; he was anchoring a dynasty.Arm-in-arm with Lydia, Timothy stepped into the Great Hall. The air was thick with the scent of expensive bourbon and old sweat. In the center of the room, a massive bed draped in white silk sat like a stage. Capos and high-ranking Blackwell soldiers lined the walls, their eyes tracking his every move. The only empty chair was next to Lydia's husband. Timothy had heard the rumors—that by the time the night w
Last Updated : 2026-03-23
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