Chapter 1 Salvatore

Six Months after the Wedding

Kansas City didn’t have the charm of Jasper, Missouri. No rolling fields. No clubhouse full of bikers who treated you like blood. No family dancing under string lights while Matteo married the woman who saved him.

KC was concrete, neon, and rain‑slicked streets. And it was mine. Six months ago, I stood in the LOV clubhouse watching my twin say his vows. Six months ago, I toasted to Matteo and Ciara’s future, hugged Mama, and promised I’d be see them soon.

I didn’t. Because the minute I stepped into the SUV to drive back home , the call came in.

Juan. The bastard never waited long. He’d been circling the Bruno territory like a vulture, testing fences, whispering to the wrong people, offering my girls at the club “better money” and “glamour.” But I knew the truth behind his promises.

He wasn’t running a strip club He was running a brothel. And he wanted my girls for leverage, not opportunity.

So I stayed. I worked. I fought. I kept the Bruno territory locked down with iron fists and sleepless nights.

I ran all three of my mother’s clubs, the legacy she left behind, and used the strip club as my base of operations. Cameras, guards, cash flow, intel. Everything ran through me.

Matteo trusted me with this territory. I wasn’t about to let Juan take a single inch. But the truth? Juan wasn’t the only thing keeping me up at night. Something else had been pulling at me. Someone. A ghost from my past. A woman I’d never stopped loving. A mistake I’d never forgiven myself for. And lately… she’d been everywhere. In my thoughts. In my dreams. In the way I hesitated before answering Matteo’s calls. In the way I kept my phone face‑down on my desk.

I told myself it was nothing. I told myself I’d buried that part of my life years ago.But the lie was getting harder to swallow. Especially now. Because Juan wasn’t just stirring trouble. He was digging. Looking for weaknesses. Looking for secrets. And I had one. A big one. One that could burn everything down if he ever found it.

The bass from the main stage thumped through the walls like a heartbeat, steady and familiar. The strip club was loud out front, but back here, in the hallway behind the dressing rooms, it was quiet.

Too quiet. My men dragged the two idiots in, both of them bruised, bleeding, and still running their mouths. They’d been caught trying to corner two of the newer girls by the back exit, whispering promises of “better money” and “real glamour.” Juan’s lines. Juan’s lies.

I stepped into the room, shutting the door behind me. The music faded to a dull throb. “Put them down,” I said. My men dropped the two goons to their knees. One spit blood onto the concrete. The other glared up at me like he thought he had a chance. He didn’t. I crouched in front of them, elbows on my knees, calm as ever. “You come into my club,” I said, “and try to take what’s mine?”

The first one sneered. “They ain’t yours.”

“They work for me,” I corrected. “Which makes them under my protection.”

He laughed. “Protection? You think you can protect them from Juan?”

I smiled. “I don’t think. I know.”

I nodded once, and one of my men slammed the guy’s face into the floor. He groaned, blood pooling beneath him.

The second one chuckled. Actually chuckled.

“This is just the beginning,” he said, voice thick with arrogance. “The girls here ain’t the only ones Juan is after.”

I tilted my head. “Oh? He’s expanding his taste?”

The man grinned, teeth red. “He’s looking for his step-sister.”

I barked a laugh. “Isolde? She’s dead. Juan knows that.”

He shook his head slowly. “Not her.”

My smile faded. “Then who?” I asked.

The man’s grin widened. “Name’s Sara.”

My heart stopped. Just for a second. Just long enough for something cold to slide down my spine. I forced my expression to stay neutral. “Sara’s a common name.”

“Not this one,” he said. “Juan’s obsessed. Says she’s the key to everything.”

I stood slowly. “Finish them, send their bodies back to their boss.” I told my men.

They dragged the goons out, their screams echoing down the hallway. I didn’t watch. I didn’t need to. They’d be alive enough to crawl back to Juan with a message:

Stay out of my territory.

Stay away from my girls.

Stay away from my family.

But as the door shut and silence settled, I leaned against the wall, breathing hard. Sara. It couldn’t be her. It had been years. She was gone. Moved on. Safe.

And yet…I couldn’t shake the way the goon said her name. Like it mattered. Like Juan wanted her for a reason. I rubbed a hand over my face. “Get it together,” I muttered. But I couldn’t. Because for the first time in years, the ghost I’d been trying to bury wasn’t staying buried. And the worst part? A part of me, deep, stupid, hopeful, wanted it to be her.