Chapter Eighty One

*Avina*The bouncer at the stairs was distracted, leaning down to light a cigarette for a woman in a sequined dress. I stayed low, moving behind a stack of speakers, and bolted up the stairs before he could look up.The second floor was different. The music was muffled here, reduced to a dull, vibrating throb beneath the floorboards. The hallway was lined with heavy, unmarked doors. It smelled like cleaning fluid and old cigarettes. Craning my neck, I saw the buzzcut boy enter the third door on the right. I waited five seconds, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I thought it might crack a bone. Then I crept to the door and pressed my ear to the wood."...ready for them?" a man’s voice asked. It was deep, gravelly, and sounded like it belonged to someone much older."She's out of it," the buzzcut boy replied. "The sedative hit her hard. She won't remember a thing. Just like you wanted.""Good. Get the others. Tell them the merchandise is prepped."The door opened suddenly. I

Chapter Eighty Two

*Ronan* ~OVER AN HOUR AGO~ I stood at the head of the mahogany table, my eyes scanning the digital displays flickering on the wall. The numbers were red—blood red. The London firm was under a decapitation strike, a coordinated effort to bleed the Graves empire dry before the sun rose in Europe. "The short-sellers are hitting us from the Zurich side now, Mr. Graves," Director Ward said, his voice trembling. "If we don't dump the secondary holdings in the next ten minutes, we lose the majority stake." "Dump them," I snapped, my voice sharp. "And tell the Singapore desk to move the liquidity into the escrow accounts. I want them buried by dawn." "But, sir—" "Do it!" I roared. The room went silent. I felt like a caged animal. My tuxedo felt too tight, the collar of my shirt choking me. I tugged at my neck, tearing loose my tie. I should have been happy. I had just married the woman who had brought light back into my hollowed-out life. I should have been at the Regency, dancin

Chapter Eighty Three

*Ronan*I soon reached the second floor. I paused for a moment, my chest heaving with deep panicked breaths. I craned my neck, searching for the slightest clue, and that was when I spotted the door at the end of the hall that was hanging off its hinges. It was the only room up here that was still pulsing with human life. The others were empty, probably because of the police downstairs.Then I heard a sound accompanied by a dull, wet thud. And then a laugh.My soul went cold.I burst into the room without a second thought. And the scene before me hit me like a physical blow to the heart. The room was dimly lit, smelling of iron and sickness. On a circular bed in the center, Aria was tied down, her eyes wide and glassy, staring at nothing. And on top of her, draped like a shield of silk and lace, was Avina. She wasn't moving. Her gray hoodie was stained and soaked with a deep, horrific crimson that I recognized all too well. Her hair was also matted with blood to her forehead, and

Chapter Eighty Four

*Avina*The first thing I registered when I woke up was the smell. It wasn't the metallic, copper scent from the club or the sour stench of sweat and fear. It was clean. Far too clean for that hellhole. Instead it was that expensive, sterilized scent of an elite private hospital—bleach masked by a hint of lavender and the faint, ozone hum of high-end machinery. My eyelids felt like they were glued shut with lead. When I finally forced them open, the world around me was a blinding, clinical white. I winced, my head throbbing with a rhythmic, pounding ache that felt like someone was using my skull as a drum. Beep. Beep. Beep.The steady, artificial heartbeat of a monitor filled the silence. As my vision slowly dragged itself into focus, I realized I wasn't alone. There was a weight on my left arm, something heavy and warm. I shifted slightly, a groan catching in my dry throat, and looked down. It was Ronan. He was slumped in a chair that looked far too small for his frame, his hea

Chapter Eighty Five

*Avina*I looked at him, and for a second, I felt a flash of pity. He was trying so hard to fix something that couldn't be mended with words or money. "I know," I said. It was a lie, or at least a half-truth. I didn't know if I wanted to try again. I didn't know if I wanted to bring a child into a world where I had to hit men with marble statues just to survive the night. But I couldn't tell him that. Not now. "You need to go home, Ronan," I said softly, brushing a stray hair from his forehead. "You look like you're about to collapse. Go shower. Change. See Aria. I’m not going anywhere.""I'm not leaving you," he insisted, his jaw setting in that stubborn Graves line. "Ronan. Please. I just... I need a moment of quiet. And you need to be a father to the daughter who is actually here."That got to him. He slumped, the fight bleeding out of his shoulders. He kissed my knuckles, a long, lingering press of his lips, before finally standing up. "I’ll be back in two hours," he promised

Chapter Eighty Six

*Avina*The next three days were a masterclass in what it meant to be a Graves. Not because of the power or the money, but because of the suffocating, terrifyingly sweet intensity of Ronan’s devotion. If I moved a finger, he was there with a glass of water. If I sighed, he was adjusting my pillows. If I closed my eyes for longer than ten seconds, I could feel him hovering, checking my breathing as if I might just decide to stop out of spite. It was endearing, it was exhausting, and it was entirely Ronan.The current hospital room was a five-star suite disguised as a medical ward. The walls were a soft cream, the lighting was dimmed to a warm honey hue, and the air smelled like the expensive white lilies Ronan had delivered every morning. But no amount of luxury could mask the underlying tension that hummed through the room every time Aria’s name was mentioned.I watched them like a spectator at a high-stakes chess match where both players refused to sit at the table. Aria would crack