C2

“Is that all? A little makeover and a few lines of code?” Ealia Reyes asked, her eyes sharp as she leaned against the passenger side of her sleek European sports car.

“Tomorrow is my eighteenth birthday too,” I replied, keeping my voice steady despite the bite of the November air.

Fila Torres gasped, almost dropping her designer bag. “You share a day with the Moretti triplets? That’s brutal. Doesn’t everyone just… look past you every single year?”

I let out a hollow laugh. “Every single year. But this time is different. I’m hitting legal age. Tonight at midnight, my internal security clearance hits Level One. I’ll finally see the data on who my life is tied to in this Syndicate. Not that I’m looking for a partner. I just want out.”

“You want to look lethal,” Ealia smirked, her posture softening. “Is that what this is? You want us to turn you into a weapon?”

“I want the Morettis to see exactly what they’ve been trying to bury under all this grease,” I admitted.

“Hell yes,” Fila smiled, clicking the lock on the car. “Get in. We’re doing a total tactical overhaul.”

I was supposed to be back at the Moretti Family Estate five hours ago to help the logistics coordinator prep for the triplets' massive ‘Taking the Reins’ gala. But I spent that time in the backseat of a moving car, decrypting Ealia’s advanced calculus and high-tech security modules for Julian Haven’s class. Tech was the only language I spoke better than the Morettis. In the Biker Mafia world, muscle was king, but information was the god that ruled from the shadows.

Fila and Ealia treated the Virelli Luxury Plaza like a private armory. They ignored my protests about money, swiping black cards without a second thought. They dressed me in a leather-pleated mini and a sweetheart-neckline white top that actually made me look like I belonged in the Luna Noir Lounge instead of the garage.

At Ealia’s place, they worked on my hair until the curls were bouncy and resilient, then applied a sharp cat-eye and deep crimson lipstick. When I finally stood before the floor-length mirror, I didn't recognize Daniels Kane. I looked like Noir—the persona I kept locked in my head.

“Where the hell have you been?” Rosa Delgado barked the second I stepped into the estate’s grand foyer. She was the Syndicate’s event planner, a woman obsessed with the triplets and terrified of anything that threatened her control.

“I was finishing the data sets Julian Haven assigned,” I lied, stepping around her.

“You were supposed to be under the War Council table prepping the door-prize trackers!” she hissed. “You’re late, you’re useless, and—what is on your face?”

Before I could answer, the rumble of three distinct engines vibrated through the floorboards. The triplets were back. Their father, Oman “Mao” Moretti, and his wife Castalia were still out finalizing the high-tech shipments for the gala, leaving the house under the temporary command of the brothers.

The heavy oak doors swung open. Nic, Teo, and Luca walked in, each with a different socialite clinging to their arm. They cycled through women like they cycled through bike parts—disposable and interchangeable.

Rosa immediately ran to them, her voice a shrill whine. “Nic, thank god you’re here. Daniels showed up hours late. I’ve been doing the heavy lifting for the Syndicate’s security gifts all by myself.”

I crawled out from where I’d been tucking the last few encrypted prize chips under a display table. I didn't want them hunting for me. As I stood up, the room went dead silent. The triplets stopped mid-stride. Their eyes raked over the leather, the curls, the red lips.

“Back off, Rosa,” Teo said, his usual sneer replaced by a look of sheer bewilderment. “We’ll handle the… disciplinary measures.”

Rosa’s smile turned venomous as she scurried away. The triplets moved as one, circling me until my back hit the cold marble of the kitchen island.

“What’s the play here, Daniels?” Teo asked, his voice dropping an octave as he gestured to my outfit. “Trying to distract us from the fact that you’ve been AWOL?”

“It’s my eighteenth birthday tomorrow,” I snapped, refusing to look down. “I’m just seeing if I can actually clean up, or if I’m as fat and useless as you three claim.”

“Who said you were fat?” Nic’s voice was like ice. He stepped into my personal space, his gaze lingering on the curve of my waist. “Do you have a contact? Someone outside the Syndicate you’re trying to impress?”

“I don’t have anyone,” I said. “And I don’t want anyone. A partner in this world is just another person to tell me what to do, and I’ve had eighteen years of that from you.”

“Careful,” Luca whispered, leaning down until his nose brushed mine. “Tonight at midnight, your contract becomes official. You’ll find out exactly who you belong to in the Moretti hierarchy. The Syndicate data doesn't lie.”

“I don’t belong to anyone,” I breathed, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“You look like a queen, Daniels,” Luca smirked, his eyes flashing with something dangerous. “I hope you wear something even shorter for the war council tomorrow. It’ll make the negotiations much more… interesting.”

Teo and Nic laughed, the sound sharp and grating. I tried to shove past them, but Teo’s hand shot out, pinning my shoulder against the island.

“Did I give you clearance to leave?” he asked, his face inches from mine.

“Let me go!” I yelled, the frustration of a decade boiling over. “Three Syndicate heirs against one girl? You have no honor! You talk about leading this territory, but you can’t even let a servant walk up the stairs without a power trip!”

Teo’s grip loosened, a look of genuine surprise crossing his features.

“Relax, Charity Case,” Felix laughed, though it sounded forced. “We’re just breaking you in for tomorrow. Go. Run to your room before Nic decides to check your security clearance early.”