LOGINTwelve years ago, Detective Myra Black lost her brother to a murder the police never solved. Now, she wears the badge — not for justice, but for vengeance. When a high-profile case lands her face-to-face with Raffaele Moretti, a cold, calculating Mafia boss with secrets buried deeper than graves, everything she's built starts to unravel. He’s dangerous, untouchable, and frustratingly calm... and worst of all, he might be the key to her brother’s death. But the more Myra digs, the more the truth turns to smoke. And the more Raffaele protects her — with his dark past and darker loyalty — the more she questions whether she’s hunting a killer… or falling for one. In a city where truth is currency and lies are survival, can a woman sworn to the law trust the heart of a man who lives in the shadows?
View MoreI stayed in that warehouse long after Kaden hung up. Part of me hoped he would call again. Another part of me hoped he wouldn’t because I wasn’t sure I could hear his voice without screaming this time.The wall in front of me didn’t lie. It was messy, frantic, layered with years of hiding and half-truths. But the truth was there. Beneath the maps. Beneath the names. Beneath the photo of me, holding a gun to Raffaele’s chest with pain written across my face.And at the center of it all was that symbol. A three headed wolf inside a perfect black ring.I had seen it before on the body of a man found burned alive in a church two weeks ago. No ID. No prints. No dental matches. The coroner said the tattoo was branded into the muscle, not inked.Like a warning. Or a claim.I snapped a photo of the symbol and sent it to the one person who owed me more than just answers.I texted Raffaele saying “What the hell is this? And don’t lie to me this time.”The reply came minutes later. Raffaele repl
The badge sat like a corpse in my palm. Cold. Empty. Dead weight. I stared at it for a long time before I finally tucked it away in the drawer. Along with it went the last ounce of faith I had in the system. They’d made their choice suspending me based on a few still images and a headline. No context. No truth. Just fallout. But I wasn’t going to sit back while the truth buried itself under bureaucracy and headlines. Not when my brother was alive. Not when Raffaele Moretti was out there, holding answers I wasn’t supposed to have. And definitely not when someone in that precinct wanted me silenced.I slipped into the alley behind the station by midday. Avoided the cameras. Avoided the questions. I moved like a shadow. Like the kind of criminal they now believed I was. Detective Hale appeared a few minutes later, hood up, glancing over her shoulder like she’d regret this the second she saw me. “Jesus, Myra. You’re a walking lawsuit,” she muttered. “You said that last time.”
I should’ve walked away. When I saw the footage had reached Myra’s hands, my first instinct was to vanish to do what I always done. Clean up the mess, shield her from the fallout, and disappear before she started asking questions I wasn’t ready to answer. But I stayed. Because somewhere between the bloodshed and broken promises, she carved a space in me I hadn’t realized was hollow. And now that she had seen Kaden… there was no going back. I watched her drive off into the night after our confrontation at the hangar. She didn’t trust me not completely. I couldn’t blame her. But the fact that she hadn’t pulled the trigger told me there was still a chance to fix this. And God, I wanted to fix this. Not just for her. For Kaden. For me. I walked back into the warehouse and locked the doors behind me. The shadows inside didn’t scare me anymore. I knew what lurked in them. Waiting.Watching.“Knew you wouldn’t be able to lie to her forever.” The voice came from the far side of the
The hangar looked abandoned rusted sheet metal, cracked asphalt, and a half-broken fence flapping in the wind like a warning flag. But I knew better. If Raffaele was hiding something, it wouldn’t be in some penthouse or crowded club. It will be here, in the quiet, where secrets could breathe. I parked a block away and approached on foot, boots crunching lightly against the gravel. My hand stayed on my holster. Every instinct in me was on fire. I spotted movement behind the main hangar door. A shadow. Then two. I ducked, made my way around the side, and slipped in through a service entrance. The interior smelled like dust and oil and gunmetal. My eyes adjusted slowly. Then I saw him. Raffaele stood near a sleek black SUV, hands behind his back, speaking to someone I couldn’t see from this angle. His voice was low. Controlled. Dangerous. I stepped out of the shadows. “Looking for m
I didn’t know how long I stood there after Raffaele walked away. His scent still lingered in the air smoke and spice and something heartbreakingly familiar. My hands trembled slightly, fists clenched at my sides, though I didn’t remember making them.The hallway felt colder without him in it. The s
The knock came again slow, deliberate, three steady taps, pause, then two quick ones. I froze. My whole body tightened like a coiled spring. That knock wasn’t random. It was a signal, a code I knew all too well from my days undercover in the SAPS.I glanced at Raffaele. His dark eyes wer
The safe house was too quiet.A kind of silence that didn’t soothe it stalked the edges of every thought, pressed against every breath. Myra stood at the counter, nursing a lukewarm cup of black coffee. Her phone was wedged between her shoulder and ear, her voice clipped and low a
The safe house creaked with silence, walls swollen with heat and history. The soft throb in my leg was nothing compared to the ache sitting in my chest. Raffaele stood a few feet away, arms crossed, jaw set like stone. “You should’ve told me Silva contacted you,” he said flatly.












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