Masuk*Harper*
My throat burned.
The drink. The warmth inside me had gone from comforting to suffocating. Like someone had wrapped cotton around my thoughts, muffling them just enough to slow my reaction time.
I swallowed against the rising nausea. “You drugged me.”
He didn’t deny it.
“Why?” My voice wasn’t loud, but it cut.
He raised a brow, still calm. “You don’t belong in a place like this. It’s dangerous. Men see a girl like you walk in alone and think… she’s looking for something.”
“I wasn’t alone,” I snapped. “You know that.”
He stepped closer. Too close.
“You’re not the only one with a past,” he murmured. “You think I don’t remember watching you at the front of those lectures, pretending not to exist? I saw you. I thought maybe you’d come here for a reason. To try something new.”
I took another step back.
Lance’s hand reached out, just a slight movement, maybe to steady me, maybe not. I didn’t care and I slapped it away.
“Touch me again and you’ll regret it.”
For a moment, he said nothing. He just looked at me, like I had disappointed him.
“You don’t get it,” he said softly. “Nobody’s going to hear you up here.”
My stomach flipped but I didn’t run. I didn’t scream.
Instead, I looked him dead in the eye. “You’re not the first man who thought I was easy to corner.”
Something flickered in his face then. Annoyance. Maybe worse.
And then… A voice.
Low. Dangerous.
“Lance.”
He froze.
We both turned.
At the end of the hallway, a man stood in the shadows.
Tall. Dark. Expensive black suit molded to a lean, powerful frame. He stepped forward once, slowly.
Lance instantly straightened. “Rowan… I didn’t see you…”
“I didn’t ask if you did,” the man said, his tone cold. “What are you doing with her?”
Her. Me.
His eyes flicked to me, and I felt it, not the leer of other men, not even interest. This was something colder, measured.
Lance took a step closer to me. “She felt unwell. I was helping her. Mind your own business, Rowan.”
He looked down at the glass still in my hand.
“You gave her that?” he asked. Quiet. Like a whisper laced with threat.
Lance hesitated. “It’s a club tradition, she said it was her birthday, so I…”
“Did she ask for it?” The man cut him off. “Did she consent to it?”
The air thickened and Lance frowned. “Rowan, I brought her here to celebrate…”
In my head, I was screaming. He had the nerve to lie so blatantly.
There was a long silence. I could hear my heart beat. Then, the man looked at me again, not with softness, not with pity, but with something harder.
“Interesting,” he said to Lance as he walked to me until he was next to me, and rested a hand on my back. “Because she came with me to the club, and now I find out you brought her here of all places…”
My heart started to beat faster, if even possible.
Lance almost flinched, and then he gave a step back, running his hand on the back of his head. “Fuck…” he then pretended to smile. “Well damn, there goes my luck,” he chuckled awkwardly and all I wanted to do was to slap his face hard.
The man didn’t respond, he turned to me and locked his eyes with mine. “I got you,” he whispered, and then leaned in to kiss my lips.
Time froze. I gasped, and I felt myself burn under this kiss. Who was this stranger?
He kissed me like he owned me. And worse? For a split second, some dark, traitorous part of me didn’t mind. His grip on me was firm, his lips claiming. I never imagined a simple kiss could be so earth-shattering.
When he pulled apart, he stared at Lance again. “You are still here? Leave.”
Lance cursed under his breath once more, then bolted. I honestly did not care about him anymore, between the dizziness and nausea, the confusion and the heat from… him. Rowan… I repeated his name again and again in my head.
He turned back to me. “Can you walk?”
I nodded, barely making sense of what had just happened. He held out a hand, not demanding. Not coaxing. Just… waiting, and I stared at it, then placed mine in his.
It was the first time I’d touched someone and felt the danger, not behind them, but inside them.
He didn’t smile, he only said, “You’re not going to remember this place the same way again.”
And we walked.
*Rowan*The hospital was too quiet. I hated it.Harper had always belonged in places filled with light and chaos and noise. Not this. Not a white room with too many machines and too few answers.The doctor finally stepped out, clipboard in hand, face neutral, too neutral. My heart stopped beating. I was not good at handling things out of my control.“She’s stable,” he said. “Out of danger.”The world exhaled.He went on, but I barely heard him. The fragment hadn’t pierced the skull, it lodged into the soft tissue above the temple. Minor swelling. Clean removal. No internal bleeding. She’d wake soon. She was lucky, they said.Lucky.That wasn’t the word I would’ve used. Harper didn’t survive by luck. She survived by fire.Lili gripped my arm and took a step toward the door, eyes shining. “I want to…”Rafe caught her hand gently. “Not yet.”She blinked up at him, frowning. “But she’s my best friend…”“
*Victor*The box still sat where they'd left it, on the seat of the car.He hadn’t touched it in hours, but he didn’t need to. The smell of blood leaked through the wood. It clung to the air, to his skin, to the lining of his lungs. Inside it lay his son’s severed finger, wrapped in silk, the ring with the family crest still in it.And a photo.Lance.Broken.Alive, but barely.Victor stared at the picture until his eyes burned, his breath shallow and wild. His people trembled around him. Not from quake or storm. But from fury. His fury.“Get the demolition team started!” he roared, kicking the front seat of the car. The box didn’t move. It waited. Like death.One guard stepped forward, too slow, too brave. Victor beat him with the base of a crystal decanter he had in his car until the glass cracked and blood painted his shoes.“I want the building turned to rubble! With Harper Collins in it!” he shouted. “Flatten
*Rowan*“I am here, boss,” Rafe mentioned with a wince. He was still in pain.“Good, keep Malik company.”Warehouse Eleven sat in the farthest, filthiest part of the east pier, where the air reeked of salt and rust. It was the kind of place men like Lance thought they could hide in. Forgotten corners for forgotten cowards.Not tonight.I stepped out of the armored car, boots meeting gravel and ash. Momo, Santiago, and Yelena flanked me like shadows. Camila was already perched on the rooftop across the way, a rifle in her arms and a grin on her mouth that promised ruin. Jacek had rigged three points around the warehouse with silent explosives, non-lethal, but loud enough to trap a rat.And that’s what Lance was.“Visuals confirm,” Malik said through the comm. “Lance is inside, second floor. Kiril is with him. Two more outside their door.”“Lance’s mine,” I said. This was personal. “You can play with the others.”Inside th
*Rowan*The lights flickered once, then cut completely.Malik looked up from the tablet, calm as ever. “District blackout successful. No signals. No GPS. No comms.”“Good,” I said, voice low. “Make sure it stays dark.”He nodded, already setting firewalls behind the collapse.Santiago paced by the window, phone pressed to his ear. “Yelena and Jacek just lit the match. Warehouse down. Bodies confirmed.”“Civilians?” I asked.“None. They hit exactly on the five-minute mark. Professionals, like always.”Outside, the city slumbered in its oblivion. Inside the war room, the air vibrated with control, the quiet, dangerous kind. Maps, feeds, and timelines lit up the walls like prophecy. Nothing had to be missed, everything under control, this had to be done properly.And then the door opened.Momo dragged someone in; younger, scrawny, limping, hands zip-tied behind his back. Blood streaked his face, one eye swollen shut
*Rowan*The room was silent.A silence made of breath held too long, calculating down to the last drop of blood.The table in front of me was covered in blueprints, aerial maps, crime scene photos, tablet screens flickering with surveillance feeds. This was something I was used to, from long ago. I grew up with this life, and no matter how controlled the empire became, the enemies brought up that side of me once more.Once, I was young, spoiled, naive and innocent. Life made sure to teach me more than a lesson. I was the monster people whispered about because of this; because I planned, orchestrated, executed. A devil that acted with cold calculation.Now it was time to show Victor why people feared me.A bottle of bourbon sat in the center, untouched. Not one of us needed it.I stood at the head of the room, spine straight despite the ache in my ribs. Harper’s fingers had ghosted over that bruise this morning, soft and hesitant. The
*Harper*The explosion rocked the building like a slap from the gods. It terrified me.I dropped the coffee cup. It shattered, and the hot dark liquid was splashing across the floor. But I didn’t feel it, because I was already turning to the window again, heart clawing its way up my throat.A thick plume of black smoke bloomed on the horizon. It wasn’t far, it was close. Too close.Rafe cursed from behind me, struggling to sit up on the couch. "The club... That was the club. They fucking hit the club!"Lili rushed to my side, her hands on my arms. “That must have been a car accident, right?”I couldn’t respond, I wanted it to be true, but my heart was telling me it was what Rafe had said, and the smoke at the distance was confirming it.“Harp, come, take a seat, you are scaring me,” she said, trying to move me aside, but I refused.My phone was already in my hand as I dialed his number, it rang several times then went to voicem







