LOGINAREŚThe first thing I hear when I wake is the sound of her breathing. Breathy, unsteady, yet steady enough to tell me she’s alive.I sit up in the chair, every muscle in my back protesting after a night of sleeping half-sitting, half-hovering like some deranged guard dog. My shirt clings to my skin, still damp from yesterday. I scrub a hand over my jaw, the coarse drag of stubble grounding me in the moment.Jordyn is still curled up on the bed where I left her. Small and fragile. I had one of the girls change her out of the wet clothes and into one of my oversized t-shirts, which is drowning her frame like armour she doesn't even know she’s wearing.I watch her for a moment longer than I should.Making sure...making goddamn sure. Because part of me still doesn't believe it. That I got to her in time. That she didn't fucking die in my arms.I push up from the chair, my joints stiff. There’s too much shit I need to deal with today, starting with Matteo for not watching out for her like
AREŚThe car’s tyres screech against the gravel as the car skids to a stop outside my house. I’m already out of the back seat before the engine cuts, Jordyn clutched tight against my chest.The front door bursts open without me touching it. One of my men already waiting, face grim, holding it wide. By now, they know better than to get in my way.I don’t stop. I don’t explain. I head straight for the stairs, straight for the master suite.“Where’s the goddamn doctor?” I roar over my shoulder, my boots hammering against the marble.“Five minutes out, Boss,” someone stammers from the hallway.Five minutes. Might as well be five fucking years. She doesn’t have five minutes.I hit my bedroom door at full stride and slam it open, carrying her straight into the bathroom.“Get the shower running!” I bark at the nearest body behind me. “Cold. Full blast. Now. Someone get me some towels.”The girl bolts forward, fumbles with the taps. I hear the pipes groan and then the water explodes from the
AREŚThe door to the room downstairs slams shut behind me with a heavy thud, cutting off the stench of blood and fear. I roll my shoulders once, feeling the tension bleed from my muscles in slow, steady pulses.The club’s music thrums through the walls now, louder, messier, a heartbeat of chaos just waiting to be unleashed.Dante, my right-hand man, the shadow watching my back, falls in step beside me as I move down the hall.“Ares,” he says, keeping his voice low, “Matteo’s here. Brought a group with him.” I barely react. I was expecting Matteo to show. It's his birthday, and Oscura is family territory. I nod once, signalling him to continue. “And...” A hesitation, almost imperceptible.I stop walking and turn my head slowly.“And?” I press, voice low enough to cut glass. He swallows thickly before he answers.“The girl is with them. Bianca’s little sister.”For a second, nothing moves inside me. No thought. No breath. Just a cold flash of something I can’t put a name to.“Upstairs,”
AREŚThe walls are soundproofed, but I can still feel the bass thudding through the floor under my boots.The club is alive upstairs. Music, lights, bodies packed shoulder to shoulder. But down here, in the private rooms hidden below La Notte Oscura, it’s quiet. The kind of quiet that comes before something violent breaks loose.I’m standing in the middle of the room, watching the man in front of me.Sergio Bianchi.A pawn.A fucking idiot.And soon, a dead man. He’s tied to a chair, wrists bound behind his back, and ankles lashed to the legs so tight he probably can’t feel anything below his knees anymore.Not that it matters.His face is already a ruined mess. One eye swollen shut, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth, a cut splitting his lip clean through. His chest heaves shallow and wet, each breath a ragged wheeze.“You know why you’re here.” I say, my voice steady and calm, the kind of calm that makes grown men piss themselves. “And you know what I want.” Sergio coughs w
JORDYNI don’t even remember slipping out of Ares’s house. One second I’m at the kitchen counter, barely keeping it together under his heavy stare, and the next I’m pulling open the front door, the early morning light blinding and too harsh.The world feels wrong. Way too bright. Needlessly loud and painfully empty.I wrap my arms around myself, pulling the sleeves of his hoodie farther down over my hands as I walk. The manor looms in the distance, huge and intimidating.Somehow it looks colder than it did before. By the time I push through the heavy front doors, my stomach’s twisted into what feels like a million knots. The house is quiet.A few staff members glance up as I pass, their faces shuttered, carefully blank.Nobody says anything. Nobody meets my eyes, and I can’t say I blame them.Halfway up the main staircase, I hear voices.Is that...Bianca and Enzo?I shouldn’t be listening to a married couples quarrel, but I can’t help it...especially when I hear my name. So, quietly,
JORDYNThe first thing I register is the faint pull of sunlight against my closed eyelids. And then warmth. A soft blanket tangled around my legs. A pillow that smells unfamiliar, like musk and something darker underneath.My head pounds, a dull ache pulsing behind my temples. My body feels heavy, weighted down by exhaustion, by something I can’t quite put my finger on. I blink slowly, trying to piece together where I am.This isn’t my room.The walls are too dark. The air too cold. The bed way too big.I push myself upright, the blanket slipping off my shoulders, and my heart stutters hard against my ribs. I’m wearing a black hoodie. It’s not mine. It’s too big, swallowing my frame whole.And then I smell it.My mind seems to recognise the scent before I can place it. Dark, warm, faintly woody. Familiar somehow. I breathe it in again, and the memories start to come back in pieces. I remember the pool, the cold water, the way my body gave up. I remember strong arms around me. Cold wat







