“For someone whose father is a mafia boss, you’d think she’d be more self-aware,” Nathan muttered from the backseat of the Audi. The leather of the seat felt cold against his tailored suit, a stark contrast to the boiling, predatory heat rising in his chest. He watched Santa’s retreating figure—stiff, limping, and hunched under an ill-fitting hoodie—disappear through the communal door of the tenement. The building was a concrete eyesore, a place for people who didn't want to be found, and seeing Santa enter it felt like watching a princess walk into a cage of thorns.Marcus, his Beta and most trusted confidant, replied without turning his head. His eyes remained fixed on the apartment’s entrance, his nostrils subtly flaring as he tracked the lingering scent of honey and iron in the air. “From what we’ve gathered, sir, she barely knew about her father’s actual dealings until a few months before she fled. She lived in a bubble of wealth and orchestrated expectations. She was raised to b
Last Updated : 2026-01-16 Read more