LOGINThe heavy leather of the punching bag groaned under the brutal force of Killian’s fists.Crack. Crack. Crack.He didn't wear gloves. His knuckles were wrapped in white tape, but the fabric was already soaked through with dark, blossoming patches of his own blood. He didn't feel the pain. He pulled his right arm back and delivered a devastating hook.It had been exactly one week.One week since the warehouse burned to the ground. One week of suffocating silence echoing through the halls of the mansion.He drove his knee into the heavy bag, the chain rattling violently from the ceiling. Every time he closed his eyes, the smell of ash filled his lungs. He saw the thirty black body bags lined up on the concrete. He heard the dying Italian’s voice echoing in his skull, branding his wife as the traitor.He wanted to kick the bedroom door open. He wanted to shake her, to corner her and demand the truth until her voice gave out. But then he would walk into the dining room and see the sheer, d
The dining table was set for one."Good morning, ma'am," Daisy said softly as I walked in. She poured a fresh cup of coffee and set it on the table. She gave me a polite, sympathetic smile. "The Pakhan left the estate about an hour ago."I stopped, my hand resting on the edge of the chair. I just gave her a slow nod, keeping my face carefully blank.Daisy bowed her head slightly and walked back into the kitchen.I sat down alone in the quiet dining room. My heart gave a painful, uneasy throb. Ever since we had moved past our brutal beginning, Killian had never left the mansion without telling me. Even if I was fast asleep, he would always wake me up just enough to kiss me and tell me he was going out.I forced myself to be rational. Yesterday was a tragedy. I couldn't expect him to act like everything was normal.I spent the rest of the day waiting. The mansion felt completely empty. I sat in the living room, watching the clock tick away the hours. The afternoon turned into evening, a
LUNA POVI paced the length of the living room, my bare feet sinking into the thick Persian rug. The grandfather clock in the corner chimed 4:00 AM.Tears spilled over my eyelashes. I wiped them away with the back of my trembling hand, but they kept falling. My mind was consumed by the terrified faces of those women and children. I prayed silently, begging whatever God was listening to keep them safe. To let Killian pull them out of the fire alive.The heavy front doors unlocked with a loud click.I stopped pacing. I hurried out of the drawing room and into the grand foyer.Killian stood in the doorway. His white shirt was soaked in dark blood and coated in thick black soot.I didn't think. I just ran across the marble floor and threw my arms around his torso, burying my face against his chest. I didn't care about the blood or the dirt. I just needed to know he was alive.For a terrifying second, he stood completely rigid. His hands hovered in the air. Then, slowly, his heavy arms wra
The heavy iron door groaned as Killian pushed it open. He walked down the raw concrete steps into the damp, freezing cellar. The air down here smelled of wet earth, dust, and old copper.He stopped at the bottom of the stairs. He took off his dark jacket, dropping it onto a wooden crate. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his white shirt and rolled the sleeves up past his elbows.In the center of the room, four men were chained to heavy steel chairs. The harsh yellow light from the single overhead bulb illuminated their battered faces. They were bleeding from the firefight at the warehouse. Their dark clothes were torn and covered in soot.Killian stepped closer. He looked at the skin exposed by their torn collars. Black ink crawled up the side of their necks.The distinct crest of the Italian syndicates.The man chained to the far left lifted his head. He spat a thick wad of blood onto the concrete floor. He looked up, a dark, mocking smile spreading across his bruised face."Look who graces
The heavy tires of the SUV violently locked, skidding across the icy asphalt before slamming to a halt.Killian threw his door open and stepped out into the freezing night. The bitter winter air was completely choked with thick, black smoke. The massive concrete warehouse, the sanctuary he had built to keep his people safe, was a roaring inferno.Flashing red and blue lights from three separate fire engines cut through the darkness. Men in heavy turnout gear were shouting, dragging high-pressure hoses across the gravel, spraying massive arcs of water into the collapsed east wall. The sound of crackling fire and groaning steel drowned out everything else.Killian stood frozen by the open door of his car. The intense heat of the blaze washed over his face.His blood was boiling, burning hot in his veins. A deep, instinctual panic clawed at his chest—a ghost from twenty years ago, pulling him back to the night he watched his family’s estate burn to the ground. He shoved the memory down r
Killian pulled a dark, long-sleeved tactical shirt over his head. He strapped a heavy Kevlar vest tightly over his chest, his large hands moving with absolute, rushed efficiency.I reached out, my trembling fingers brushing the back of his dark sleeve.He stopped. He turned around to face me. His pale gray eyes were lethal, focused purely on the violence ahead."What happened?" I whispered. The words scraped against my tight vocal cords."There was a bomb blast at the safe house," Killian said. His voice was a low, dark rumble, vibrating with a barely contained, murderous rage.The words hit me like a physical blow to the chest. The air rushed out of my lungs."W-what..." My voice shattered. "The safe house... where the rescued people..."I couldn't even finish the sentence. My throat closed up tightly as hot tears instantly flooded my eyes.Killian gave a single, tight nod. I could feel the sheer, violent anger and urgency radiating off his massive frame. He didn't stop moving. He re
The morning began with hands that weren't mine pulling me from sleep.I opened my eyes to find three women already in my room, moving with efficient silence. One carried a garment bag. One held a case of cosmetics that looked more like surgical instruments. The third was setting up lights around my
He jerked me forward, away from where I'd fallen, and started dragging me through the snow. His grip on my arm was iron, painful, completely unforgiving. I stumbled trying to keep up with his long strides but he didn't slow down, didn't adjust his pace, just hauled me along behind him like cargo tha
I woke to the sound of wind battering the cabin walls.The storm hadn't stopped. Snow pressed against the windows in thick white sheets. The world outside had disappeared completely.I sat up on the couch where I'd fallen asleep. My neck ached from the awkward angle. The fire had burned down to noth
The laptop chimed at seven in the morning.I was already awake, sitting on the couch wrapped in blankets, staring at the dying fire. The fever had broken during the night but left me hollowed out and weak, my body aching in ways that had nothing to do with the cold or the running through the woods t







