LOGIN"He lost a massive amount of blood. But the artery was missed. He is out of danger. He is heavily sedated and currently sleeping."A sigh of relief left my lips. My shoulders dropped. The heavy, agonizing weight lifted from my chest. He was alive.Marco let out a long breath. He looked down at me."Madam," Marco instructed firmly. "He is safe. Now you must go change."I slowly nodded. I forced my shaking legs to stand. I walked upstairs to the master bedroom like a ghost. I stepped into the hot shower, watching numbly as the water ran dark red down the drain. My hands shook violently as I scrubbed the thick, dried blood off my skin. The terrifying image of his bloody hand gripping mine refused to leave my mind.I pulled on a dry set of gray sweatpants and a thick sweater. I lay down, but sleep would not come. The massive, empty bed terrified me.I gave up trying to rest. I walked back downstairs and headed directly back toward the medical wing.Carmina was standing outside his room. W
"My nephew is lying on an operating table because of you," Carmina screamed, her voice bouncing off the marble walls. "I told him you were a curse! You are a bad omen. He lost his mind the day he brought the enemy's daughter into this house. He never gets hurt like this. He has never fallen. And now he is bleeding out because he blinded himself with you!"The vicious, toxic words washed over me. I did not react. I did not defend myself. She was right. Killian had stepped into a hail of bullets to save my life. He had sacrificed his own body to shield the daughter of the man he hated. I was a curse.Carmina’s eyes flared with disgust at my blank expression. She raised her hand high to strike me again."Enough," a dark, heavy voice echoed down the hall.Marco stepped directly between me and Carmina. His massive frame blocked her path entirely. He crossed his arms over his thick chest, staring down at the older woman with absolute, cold authority."Step aside, Marco," Carmina spat, her e
The deafening sound of the helicopter rotors died down as we touched down on the private helipad at the Alatorre estate.Before the landing gear even fully settled against the concrete, the cabin doors were ripped open. A team of syndicate medics, led by an older, stern-faced doctor, rushed the aircraft. They grabbed the canvas stretcher.Killian was unconscious. His skin was unnervingly pale, the massive blood loss draining the terrifying, dominant life from his features. Yet, his thick, blood-soaked fingers were still locked in a death grip around my small hand."Move him!" the doctor shouted over the dying wind of the rotors.They hoisted the stretcher. I stumbled forward, forced to follow the movement because his grip on my wrist was unbreakable. I ran alongside the rushing medics, my bare feet hitting the freezing concrete."Madam," Marco said, his voice strained. He stepped directly behind me, his rough hands reaching over to pry Killian’s thick, bloody fingers off my wrist one
I tried to drag his massive frame toward the leather sofa, but he was entirely too heavy. He slid down against the edge of the mahogany desk, his back hitting the wood with a heavy thud. He slumped against the floor, his breathing incredibly shallow and wet.Panic hijacked my brain. I dropped to my knees beside him."Hold on," I cried frantically. "Hold on."I scrambled to my feet and ran toward the wooden cabinets lining the study wall. I ripped the drawers open, frantically throwing papers and files onto the floor. I was looking for bandages. I was looking for a first aid kit. There was absolutely nothing. The drawers were completely empty of medical supplies.I turned back around. A massive pool of dark blood was already forming on the expensive rug beneath Killian's shoulder.I ran back to him and dropped to my knees. I grabbed the hem of my thick wool sweater. I ripped the heavy fabric entirely over my head, leaving myself in just my thin cotton undershirt. I bundled the thick sw
I kept running until the trees finally began to thin out. The stone cabin came into view through the fog.Suddenly, a massive figure stepped out from behind a thick pine tree, completely blocking my path to the front porch.The man wore a dark tactical vest and a black ski mask. He raised an assault rifle, pointing the black barrel directly at my chest.I froze. My heart stalled entirely in my chest. The metal barrel stared back at me like a hollow, black eye.If anyone steps in your path, you aim for the chest and you pull the trigger.Killian’s dark, commanding voice echoed loudly in my terrified brain.I did not think. I did not hesitate. I raised the small black pistol with both of my trembling hands. I squeezed the trigger exactly the way Killian had taught me in the field.The gun bucked violently in my grip. A loud crack shattered the freezing air.The masked man grunted heavily. He dropped his rifle, clutching the center of his chest as dark blood blossomed entirely over his v
The bark of the pine tree directly in front of my face completely exploded. Sharp splinters of wood flew outward, scratching against my cheek."Get down," Killian roared.I hit the freezing, wet ground hard. The air was completely knocked out of my lungs. Another gunshot echoed through the trees, the bullet tearing through the empty space where Killian’s chest had been just a second ago.Killian practically threw his massive body entirely over mine. He dragged me roughly behind the thick trunk of an ancient oak tree, completely shielding me from the distant tree line with his own back. He reached around to the waistband of his tactical pants and drew his heavy black pistol in one fluid, completely lethal motion.My entire body began to shake violently.The loud, chaotic sound of automatic gunfire erupted from the dense brush on the opposite side of the lake. Bullets slammed brutally into the dirt and the tree trunks surrounding us. Clumps
[Third-Person POV]Don Dario Vitiello sat behind his mahogany desk, looking every inch the weary king burdened by duty.The study was dim. Just the green banker's lamp and dying embers in the fireplace providing light.Dante stood by the door, hand resting on the brass handle."Go to her room," Dari
The dress Father chose was pink.Not soft pink. Not blush or rose or anything innocent.This was sharp, aggressive bubblegum. Cut low across my chest. Tight across my hips.The kind of dress a man picks for a trophy he wants displayed on a shelf.I stood in the foyer, gripping a small bejeweled purs
The bruise on my stomach was a living thing.It pulsed with every breath. Hot. Sick. A constant reminder of Father's midnight threat.Smile. Or the cellar.I stood in front of the mirror, smoothing the cream silk dress over my hips.The fabric was beautiful. Expensive. Soft.Terrifying.It was the c
[Luna's POV]I sat on the floor of my room, surrounded by the jewelry I'd torn off.The ruby collar lay near the door where I'd thrown it. The bracelet by the window. The earrings scattered across the carpet like drops of blood.My breath was still coming too fast. My face was wet with tears.But sl







