All Chapters of The Reaper's Hidden Heir: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

The penthouse was quiet except for the soft patter of rain against the floor-to-ceiling windows. I stood at the edge of the living room, a glass of red wine in my hand, watching the city lights blur through the streaks of water. Three months of marriage, and the view from our new home still took my breath away. It felt like we owned the skyline — every glowing tower, every shadowed alley below belonged to the Voss-Moretti empire. To us.Damien’s arms slid around my waist from behind, pulling me back against his solid chest. His lips brushed the side of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine.“You’re thinking too loud again,” he murmured, voice low and rough from sleep. He had been resting more these days, but the Reaper never fully slept. “What is it this time? Another ghost from your father’s grave?”I leaned my head back against his shoulder, letting his warmth chase away the chill. “Not a ghost. Just… reality. The families are still whispering. Some think I’m too young, too soft.

The message deleted, but it lingered like smoke in the air. *“You missed the twins. See you soon.”*I set the phone down on the nightstand and turned back to Damien. He was still asleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The scars on his torso caught the faint city light filtering through the curtains, ugly reminders of every bullet, every knife, every time he had bled for us. I traced one gently with my fingertip, feeling the raised skin. He stirred but didn’t wake.I couldn’t sleep. Not after that. I slipped out of bed, pulled on his black shirt that reached mid-thigh, and walked to the living room. The penthouse was silent except for the low hum of the rain against the glass. I poured a small glass of whiskey and stood at the window, staring at the blurred skyline. Another threat, another sibling. How deep did my father’s secrets go? How many more knives were waiting in the dark?Strong arms wrapped around me from behind. Damien’s bare chest pressed against my back,

The penthouse lights flickered as another storm rolled in off the coast, thunder rumbling like distant gunfire. I stood at the window, the deleted message still burning in my mind. *You missed the quadruplets.* It was a taunt, a final cruel joke from whatever ghost of my father’s legacy refused to die. But tonight, the game changed.Damien’s reflection appeared behind me in the glass. He limped slightly, the wound from the last raid still healing, but his grey eyes were sharp as ever. He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me back against his solid chest. “Stop staring at the rain like it’s going to spit out more of Marco’s bastards. We end this tonight.”I turned in his arms, searching his face. The man who had once seen me only as leverage now looked at me like I was the center of his violent world. “Aurora gave us the last pieces before she… before it ended. The Triad wasn’t the final threat. There’s a summit. All the remaining families who want the Voss-Moretti empire cru

The Chicago streets were still slick with rain and blood when the real storm hit. We had barely touched down back at the cliffside fortress when alarms shattered the fragile peace we’d carved out. Red lights pulsed through the halls as Rico’s voice barked over the comms“Full-scale breach! Multiple entry points—east cliffs and lower tunnels. They brought an army.”I was already moving, ignoring the fresh stitches in my side. Damien caught my arm in the armory, his grey eyes blazing with barely contained fury. “You stay in the command center.”“Like hell I will.” I strapped on my vest, checking the magazine in my Glock. “This is my fight too. My name they’re cursing.”He pulled me against him, the kiss fierce and desperate, teeth nipping my lower lip. “If you get hurt again…”“Then you’ll kill them all. Same as I will for you.” I shoved a spare magazine into his chest. “Together, Reaper.”The mansion became a battlefield. Explosions rocked the foundations as enemy forces—Genovese mu

The fortress was quiet for the first time in weeks. Too quiet. The kind of silence that came after a storm had torn everything apart and left only ruins to rebuild. I stood on the cliffside terrace, the wind whipping my hair as the ocean crashed far below—the same cliffs where masked men had first dragged me into Damien’s world. Blood had been cleaned from the marble halls, bodies removed, traitors buried or exiled. But the scars remained.Damien approached from behind, his steps measured but still carrying that lethal grace. His arm slid around my waist, pulling me back against his chest. The wound on his side was healing, but I could feel the tension in his muscles. “The last of the Genovese have surrendered,” he said, voice low. “They’re offering tribute and swearing fealty. Word of the summit massacre and Chicago strike spread fast. They fear us.”“Fear *us*,” I corrected, turning in his arms. “Not just the Reaper anymore.”His grey eyes searched mine, the icy control that once d