Chapter 1

The brass lock gave a sharp, metallic click.

The room went dead.

Matteo froze, his crystal tumbler hovering inches from his lips, that smug half-smile trapped on his mouth. Nikolai’s eyebrow hitched up with habitual arrogance. Julian pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose, the nervous twitch in his eyes giving him away instantly.

Only Gia scrambled, shrinking behind Matteo like a cornered fawn, squeezing real tears into her doe eyes.

"Sienna..." Matteo broke the silence first, putting his bourbon down with practiced ease. "How much of that did you catch?"

"‘Wrapped around your little finger with one kiss’?" I parroted, keeping my voice stripped of every drop of emotion. "That your idea of a confession, Matteo?"

Matteo took a second, his mouth twisting. "Hey, fair is fair. I never said I picked Truth."

My brain short-circuited.

A dare. The entire goddamn thing was a dare.

I was a complete clown. Twenty years of sharing blood, mud, and family wars, washed down the drain as the punchline to an inside joke.

The sheer absurdity of it ripped a laugh right out of my throat—jagged, raw, and completely unhinged.

"Watch the attitude, Sienna," Nikolai snarled, hauling himself up from the leather sofa, his jaw clenched tight. "Matteo didn't do shit wrong. The Hughes family needed an enforcer to clear out the scum in Vegas. Gia spent eighteen years rotting in the slums. She’s delicate. You honestly expect her to march into the slaughterhouse?"

"So the three of you set me up like a lamb?" I locked eyes with him.

"We bet on what pays out best. That's business," Julian cut in, his tone devoid of warmth. "The four families are bound by treaties. You’re built for the dirt, Sienna. You take a hit, you hit back twice as hard. Gia carries the bloodline. You got eighteen years of her life. You owe the girl."

"I owe her?" A ragged chuckle tore through my teeth. "Did I swap the damn cribs? Did you assholes develop amnesia about the ambushes, the kidnappings, and the lead I took to keep our heads above water?"

"Enough of the sob story!" Nikolai snapped, disgust rolling off him in waves. "Quit playing the damn victim! Gia already told us how you act behind closed doors—freezing her out, treating her like dirt under your boots. A trip to the desert will pull your head out of your ass. Stop barking like a rabid stray fighting for scrap meat!"

So that was the price tag.

Eighteen years of bleeding together didn't balance against three months of designer tears from the long-lost daughter.

I shifted my focus to Matteo. He had remained stone-still. "You stand behind that?"

He stood up, towering over me, casting that familiar, suffocating shadow as he stared down with arrogant pity.

"Vegas is the cleanest exit for your pride. As for the rest of it—until you leave next month, I’ll play the part. I'll be the boyfriend you want." His hand lifted, reaching out to cup my jaw. "Think of it as my way of squaring the debt."

I took a sharp step back, letting his hand drop through empty air. My gut twisted with sheer disgust.

"Sienna, please don't be mad at Matteo, it’s all on me..." Gia whimpered, stepping out from behind him, letting a tear roll down her cheek. "The other night when you passed out drunk, he carried you to bed himself. He stayed until morning, wiping your face and holding your hair... He really cares about you. If having me here makes you hate him, I’ll pack my bags. Don't tear your family apart over me..."

Her words sounded tiny and fragile, but the cold glitter in her eyes was pure, venomous triumph.

Cheap pity. I would rather choke on glass.

I looked down at the platinum band on my right hand, carved deep with the crest of a striking black eagle.

Matteo had forced it onto my finger when we were ten years old, in the aftermath of our first joint kill during cartel training. He swore it bound us in blood. No secrets, no treason.

Under their dead-eyed stares, I gripped the metal, wrenched it off my finger, and flicked my wrist.

The heavy metal smacked the hardwood, skittering across the floor and smacking against the tip of Gia’s designer heels.

"You want my place that bad? Keep the scrap metal too."

I spun toward the exit, my palm slapping flat against the brass latch.

"You’re going to choke on your pride, Sienna!" Nikolai’s harsh bark echoed behind me. "Just like every other goddamn time! You always come crawling back on your knees begging us to forgive you!"

I slammed the heavy mahogany door shut behind me, the sound echoing like a gunshot through the hallway.

I used to crawl back because I gave a damn about the ghosts of our past. I thought we were bound together.

Not anymore.

The draft in the corridor tore against my cheeks, freezing out the very last ember in my chest.

My coat pocket buzzed.

A secure encrypted ping from the family Elders flashed across the screen:

[Sienna, your deployment order to take command of the Las Vegas syndicate is finalized. Family protocol permits a thirty-day transition window. Confirm acceptance.]

I stopped mid-stride under the flickering sconce, my thumb hitting the glass without a millisecond of doubt:

[Confirmed. Skip the thirty days.]

[I wheels-up in forty-eight hours.]