HIDE LITTLE TRAITOR

A DARK WHY CHOOSE MAFIA ROMANCE

LOMBARDI LEGACY

BOOK TWO

MONTANA FYRE

Copyright © 2026 by Montana Fyre.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author. All inquiries should be made to the author.

The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblances to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

ISBN (Ebook) : 978-1-7640913-8-1

First edition, 2026

Front cover design by Montana Fyre.

Cover Photographer: Ren Saliba.

Book design by Montana Fyre.

Edited by My Brother’s Editor.

www.montanafyre.com

If you’ve ever wanted an unhinged golden retriever to assemble a harem of four men who can’t stand each other, Ryker is at your service…

He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.

— EMILY BRONTE

CONTENT NOTE

This book/series contains dark themes that some readers may find distressing, including, but not limited to:

V!0lence

T0rture

R@pe (Side Character)

Sexu@l Ass@ult (Not by MMC’s)

M!scarr!age

Murder

K!dnapp!ng

Elements of BDSM

Pra!se / Degradat!on

Mental Health Representation

Parental Su!c!de

Dub/N0n C0n

Mention of Ch!ld Abuse

Exh!bit!on!sm

PROLOGUE

KINGSTON

THEN

TEN YEARS AGO

Being this close to the Lombardi compound sets my nerves on edge, but I made a promise to my best friend that if his daughter ever called, I would drop everything, walk through fucking fire to get her to safety, and I don’t make a habit of breaking promises.

The gas station illuminates the road ahead, and some of the tension bleeds from my shoulders. The sooner I get Chloe out of here, the sooner I get the fuck away from Miami.

I have offices all around the country, but as luck would have it, I was in Atlanta when she called, and the jet was already fueled up.

Flying into an airfield close to the compound was a risk, but I couldn’t leave her for any longer than necessary, even if that meant risking both our lives.

I pull the rental sedan into a parking space in front of the gas station and don’t waste any time climbing out. By now the Lombardi’s are looking for her, and it’s only a matter of time before they descend on this place.

It’s a fucking wonder they haven’t already, considering it’s the only building within walking distance of the compound, but Salvatore always insists on doing things methodically, which means his men are searching every inch of the perimeter right now while I pluck what they’re looking for right out from under their noses.

It has crossed my mind that this could be a trap, that one of the Lombardis convinced Chloe to use the number her father had her memorize to bring me back to Miami.

They’ve been hunting me for years, but when you spend your life hunting others, you also get very fucking good at hiding.

The pure terror in Chloe’s voice was enough to make me believe this is real, but I’ve been fooled before.

Striding into the gas station, I keep my head on a swivel for potential threats, but when I meet the eye of the teenage attendant, I realize I’m not in any danger.

He looks down behind the counter and says something softly, which is when I hear it.

Soft sobs come from beside him, and I’m across the room before I’ve made the conscious decision to move.

When I reach the edge of the counter and peer over, I find my best friend’s daughter curled up with her head on her knees. Blood and dirt cover most of the skin on display, while the rest of her is covered by a flimsy nightgown.

The fact she has shoes on is nothing short of a miracle, but that does little to ease the ache in my chest at the sight of her.

“Chloe?” I rumble.

Haunting green eyes peek up at me a moment before her entire body trembles with broken cries.

It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Chloe Weaver. Years. But it’s clear she’s no longer the kid she was back then.

Objectively I knew she was an adult now, having celebrated her birthday almost six months ago, but knowing something and seeing it for yourself are two different things.

Glancing up at the attendant, I find his eyes bouncing from me to the crying woman curled up on the tiled floor.

“Is this the guy you were waiting for?” he asks quietly, his hand disappearing beneath the counter to what I assume is a gun.

He doesn’t seem the type that could actually pull the trigger, but I’m impressed that he would consider it to protect a woman he’s just met.

Chloe nods, another heart-wrenching sob tearing through her chest.

I can’t begin to imagine what she’s been through, but from the limited details she gave me on the phone, both her parents are dead.

It was only a matter of time before Salvatore’s paranoia got the better of him when it came to Neil, just the same as it did with me.

I was just smart enough to get the fuck out of the city before he could order his men to kill me.

Fishing my wallet from my pocket, I flick through the cash inside and pull out the eight hundred dollars I have on me, dropping it on the counter in front of the attendant, who stares at the wad with wide eyes.

“For keeping a stranger safe,” I say before rounding the end and getting a better look at Chloe.

She’s in rough shape, but I can’t see anything life-threatening. I’ll have a doctor meet us when we get back to Atlanta to check her over regardless.

“I’m going to pick you up now, Chloe. Is that okay?”

Unfortunately she’s not the first battered woman I’ve dealt with over the years, and given my line of work, she won’t be the last either.

But she is the first that I have a personal attachment to, and that changes things more than I expected.

She gives a shaky nod before looking to the attendant. “Thank you,” she whispers.

“You’re welcome.” He swallows before looking up at me. “You’ll make sure she sees a doctor?”

“I will,” I assure him, carefully feeding one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back before standing and settling her against my chest.

She’s lighter than she looks, and the protective part of me is immediately desperate to feed her, even as the logical part of my mind reminds me that she likely won’t be able to eat anything substantial for a while.

Not until the shock wears off.

With one last look over my shoulder at the attendant, I make my way back to the sedan. I balance her in one arm as I open the passenger door and carefully place her inside.

I’m itching to check her over, to make sure none of the blood coating her soft skin is fresh, but not until we’re in the air.

All that matters right now is getting the fuck out of Lombardi territory.

Once she’s clipped in, I brush the matted auburn hair from her face, wiping away a fresh wave of tears that fall against her cheeks.

“You’re safe now, Chloe. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The practiced words fall from my lips with ease, but I realize as I round the car that I’ve never meant them quite as much as I do this time.

CHAPTER ONE

CHLOE

NOW

Deep brown eyes that pulled me through the worst days of my life stare down at me, but I can’t find words.

My head has been swimming since I woke up with my hand in his, in an unfamiliar room and an unfamiliar bed.

What do you even say to your dad’s best friend who saved you from certain death, nursed you back to health, and then disappeared with nothing but a note and a folder of cash and documents?

Kingston seems content without speaking as he brushes his thumb over the back of my hand, finding comfort in the silence while it makes my skin itch.

“I had my personal doctor check you over. You have a mild concussion, but nothing to be worried about. I’ve been monitoring you and will continue to do so over the next few days.”

Despite it being a decade since I last saw him, the only sign that he’s aged is the flecks of silver through the dark-brown hair at his temples. I should have known Kingston Beaumont would only get better with age.

“Where are we?” I finally ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

“One of my homes,” he replies vaguely.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

He nods slowly. “I do. But where we are is irrelevant.”

Pressing my eyes closed, I force steady breaths into my lungs. The worst thing I can do right now is panic, but the idea that I’ve been abducted for the second time in a week is weighing heavily on my chest.

“You’re safe, Mama,” he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of my hand.

“Don’t call me that,” I snap. The nickname he coined before he even knew I was pregnant stuck throughout our time together, but there’s something about hearing it now that brings tears to my eyes.

Maybe it’s the memory of how tenderly he cared for me through those weeks, how I never had to ask for what I needed because he just seemed to know.

Or perhaps it’s the reminder of what I’ll never be.

“And just because you tell me I’m safe doesn’t mean it’s true. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time you’ve lied to me.” The words burn on the way up, but I can’t stop them.

Not least because they’re some of the truest I’ve ever spoken.

“Chloe—” he starts, but I don’t want to hear his lies or his false promises.

“Can I have a phone?”

“No.”

“Kingston.”

“I said no, Chloe,” he grinds out. “It’s not safe for anyone to know where you are right now.”

I bite down on the inside of my cheek to warn away the tears that threaten to fall, but it’s no use. “Why am I here?”

“Because this is where you belong.”

Without another word, he pushes to his feet and strides out of the room, not bothering to close the door.

I may be a prisoner here, but at least I’m not locked in a cell like I was at the Lombardi compound.

Now I know what to expect from my gilded cage.

Kingston may give me all the pretty things and the perfect promises, but it’s all a lie. A reminder that no matter how badly I long for happiness, it’s never going to happen for me.

CHAPTER TWO

RONAN

NOW

Once again I find my back pressed to the wall with Ryker’s knife poised at my throat, but this time I don’t bother fighting.

Because I just betrayed my family to save the woman I loved, only for her to be stolen from me hours later. I promised I would protect her. I promised she would be safe with me, that I would never allow her to be scared or alone again, and I failed her in record time.

“What have you done?” he growls, digging the blade into my skin.

“What possible reason would I have to bring her here if I was just orchestrating for her to be taken again?”

“Your family is known for their mind games.”

“No, my father is known for that,” I snap.

“Can you two stop fucking fighting for two seconds?” Camilla shoves at Ryker’s arm, and for a second I long for the blade to slice into me, for the physical pain to distract me from how deeply my chest aches for Chloe.

For the second time in my life, I’ve known what it’s like to hold her, only for her to be stolen from me, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to survive it this time, how I’m meant to just accept that she’s gone.

Ryker drops his arm, the knife falling to his side. “He’s behind this. He has to be.”

“He’s not,” Camilla says, stepping between us in a move that has her men growling.

“What have I told you about stepping between men when they’re fighting?” Crew pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration.

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t bother responding. Why do I get the feeling this is an argument they have a lot?

“Do you think this could have been Damon?”

I shake my head. “No. He risked everything to let us escape. There’s no way he did that just to take her again a few hours later.”

“You don’t think he would do anything to get back in your father’s good books if he were found out?”

“Even if that were the case, he couldn’t have caught up to us so quickly, and he has no way of knowing where I brought her.”

She nods slowly before turning her attention to Ryker. “Is there anyone else you can think of that may have taken her?”

His amber eyes widen for a second before he curses, tugging his phone from his pocket and dialing a number he knows by heart.

Who the fuck is he calling?

The phone rings twice, the sound filling the otherwise quiet waiting room before abruptly cutting off.

“That fucking asshole,” he mutters to himself, calling the same number again only for the same thing to happen.

“Something you want to share with the class, Love?” Bishop asks, wrapping an arm around Camilla.

She and the bodyguard share another look before Ryker sighs, rubbing a frustrated hand down his face.

“There is someone else it could be,” he confirms.

“Who?” Crew asks.

“Kingston Beaumont,” Ryker replies, and my entire world tilts on its axis. Chloe swore black and blue that she didn’t know anything about him, that she hadn’t seen him in years, but if that were true, why would he be the one to take her?

There’s no way she could have called him. There was no time. But that doesn’t mean they haven’t been in contact.

I lean back against the wall to stop my knees from giving way beneath me. Every time I think I know the truth, the rug is pulled out from under me again.

Ryker curses again, feeding a frustrated hand through his messy blonde hair. “Chloe was telling the truth when she said she hasn’t seen or heard from him since not long after she escaped the compound the first time, but he’s seen her. He’s kept her safe from a distance over the years, and when Camilla was worried for Chloe’s safety during the transition of power, King sent me to guard her.”

Everyone in the room stares at him with more questions than he’s given answers, and I’m no exception.

Because what the fuck does he mean that Kingston has been keeping Chloe safe from a distance all these years and she never knew?

“After Dad died, I found Chloe’s employment file in his desk rather than filed away with all the others, and there were some details about how she came to work for us. Not much. Just that she was running from another Mafia family and that if there were ever any concerns for her safety, there was a number to call. I called it, Ryker came, and I never thought anything of it,” Camilla supplies.

I’m so fucking confused my head is spinning, but that could have something to do with how little I’ve eaten in the last couple of days and my adrenaline levels dropping.

“You work for the asshole who killed my mother?” I grind out.

He nods slowly. “I do. Well, I did. I don’t think I do after falling for Chloe.”

“You don’t think?” Crew asks, mismatched eyes flicking from me to him and then down at Camilla.

“He was my first call after Damon took off with Chloe, and when he realized I felt more for her than a bodyguard should, he hung up on me, blocked my number, and left me stranded on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. So yeah, I’m pretty sure that was him firing me.”

Dropping my head back against the wall, I drag in rough breaths as my head swims.

I sacrificed everything to save her only for her to be stolen right from under my nose by the man I’ve spent my entire adult life hunting, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

CHAPTER THREE

DAMON

NOW

I’ve sat through more strategy sessions in the last twelve hours than I have in the last fifteen years.

I’m fucking exhausted, but I can’t rest.

Because despite me being the one to orchestrate this entire escape, I’m also the one running point on finding Ralph.

Which is pretty fucking inconvenient seeing as he’s shoved in a laundry chute on the other side of the house right now, but I play the part the best I can.

If my father finds out I helped Ronan escape with Chloe, I’m as good as dead. He won’t tolerate defiance from anyone, not even his prodigy.

The issue is, eventually I’m going to run out of ways of making this look real.

Contrary to what some believe, it’s impossible to disappear. There’s always a trace somewhere, and even if Ronan was able to disappear, I won’t be able to keep a dead body a secret forever. At some point I’m going to have to get rid of it, and it won’t be easy when the compound is crawling with guards.

Every single person that works for the family has been called in to help find Ronan, and it’s only a matter of time before they start getting suspicious about the story I’ve spun.

“You were close with Ralph. Did he give any indication that he was planning this?” my father asks Ricky, a piece of shit who is, unfortunately for me, loyal to a goddamn fault.

When it’s my time to take my father’s place, I plan to retire a lot of the old guys, but Ricky isn’t going to go down without a fight.

“I’m telling you, boss, he wouldn’t do something like this. Sure, he thought the girl was pretty and he might have wanted a piece of her, but not enough to take off with her and your boy.”

I barely swallow the scoff at the description of Ronan.

It’s been a very long time since either of us was a boy, and the fact the old-timers are still trying to act like we’re children at thirty never ceases to amuse me.

Dad nods along before his eyes sweep over the long table of his most trusted men.

As bored as I am, the longer we waste in here having meetings like this one, the more time Ronan has to get away from the city. With any hope he’ll be across the country before we make any kind of headway putting the pieces I’ve scattered together.

Looking down at my phone, I frown when I find a missed call from a blocked number. It’s probably Ronan checking in, but I told him I would call him when I could.

If he’s calling, something’s wrong.

“Damon,” my father snaps, and I glance up at him, unbothered by his tone. “Can you get your guy to hack into the city’s traffic cameras? I want to know which way they’re heading.”

“Sure thing,” I agree, not bothering to remind him that the guy who normally does that kind of thing is actually Ronan. I know how to pull footage, but it will take longer, and for once that’s a good thing.

“Everyone else get some sleep. As soon as we have an idea of where they’re headed, it’ll be all hands on deck.”

I shove myself to my feet and head toward my bedroom without bothering to stop to talk to anyone. I’m fucking tired, but more than that, I need to check on Ronan.

You’d think after being pitted against each other our whole lives that we would have a surface-level relationship. But if anything, we’re closer for it. He’s the only person in the world who understands the pressure of being a part of this family, the sacrifices I’ve had to make to be where I am today, and that means I will always be protective of him.

Even though it’s been a long time since he’s needed me to protect him.

The door has barely shut when I dial the number, waiting for long seconds until his voice finally comes down the line. “Hello,” he says. He sounds tired, but I doubt he’s had a chance to sleep yet.

“Have you met up with De Marco and her guys yet?” I ask.

“Yep.”

“And Chloe’s okay?” I fucking hate myself for asking, hate myself for caring whether she lives or dies, but I think if the last twelve hours have proven anything, it’s that I don’t hate Chloe Weaver even a fraction of the amount I pretend to.

There’s a long silence. So long anxiety rolls through my chest, and I can barely drag in a breath.

“Ronan?”

“I have to tell you something. But I need you to listen before you freak out. Okay?”

“What the fuck is going on? Where’s Chloe?”

“Promise me, Damon.”

“Okay, I promise. Now tell me where the fuck she is,” I snap.

“I got her to the clinic that Crew organized, but when Camilla stepped out of the room to get the doctor, she disappeared.”

“What do you mean she disappeared?” I grind out. “Was it the bodyguard?”

“No. He had a knife to my throat at the time.”

“Then who the hell could have taken her? Dad hasn’t sent any teams out looking for you guys yet, so it’s not us.”

“We think it’s Kingston,” he whispers.

I don’t hear another word he says as the phone falls from my hand, my chest tightening to the point I can’t drag in a breath.

Because Kingston taking Chloe can only mean one of two things.

Either she was lying to us the whole time and never lost contact with him as she claimed.

Or he’s going to use her against us.

CHAPTER FOUR

CHLOE

THEN

TEN YEARS AGO

Kingston flicked the heater to high as soon as he started the engine, but I can’t stop shivering.

Logically I realize it’s the adrenaline drop. After living so many days in a life-or-death situation, it was only a matter of time before my body couldn’t handle it anymore.

Kingston curses as he looks over at me. “I’m sorry, Mama. I don’t have anything else to keep you warm, but I have a change of clothes and some blankets on the jet.”

Pressing my eyes closed, I focus on keeping my breathing even. I’m permanently on the edge of a panic attack, and I would do just about anything to be sedated right now, but I don’t know if that’s okay for the baby or not.

I don’t know anything about being pregnant or being a mother, especially alone, but every time I allow myself to think about the fact that I’ll be a single mom with no support system, I find myself back on the brink.

“The jet?” I whisper.

“We need to get out of Miami before they come looking for you.”

I nod. That makes sense. I’m a loose end they’ll want to eliminate, especially if they find out who I called to help me.

“Can you tell me how you escaped?”

“They left the door unlocked,” I whisper. “Salvatore came to kill us, but he got called away. I guess they thought the shock of seeing both of my parents killed would stop me from trying to run. I broke my thumb the way Damon told me to if I was ever handcuffed, and then I ran.” Tears roll down my cheeks, but I keep going.

I tell him about the tennis shoes I found by luck by the back door. I tell him about running from the dogs and climbing the tree. And then I tell him how I dropped from the ten-foot wall surrounding the compound.

By the time I get to the part where I reached the gas station, filthy and covered in blood, the car slows as we pull through a wrought iron fence onto what appears to be an airfield.

A single jet sits on the tarmac, the lights flashing on the wing to signal it’s ready to take off at a moment’s notice.

“You did good, Chloe. So fucking good. I’m proud of you.” The hand that’s never let go of mine squeezes, providing comfort I didn’t realize I needed so badly. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You’re safe now.”

I don’t get a chance to respond before he kills the engine and gets out, pausing by the man I didn’t notice in front of the car before coming around to the passenger side.

Just like at the gas station, he gathers me in his arms and carries me up the steps of the jet as if I weigh nothing.

It’s hard to connect the man holding me like he would throw himself in front of a bullet for me and the aloof underboss that once walked the Lombardi compound.

Despite him being one of Dad’s best friends, I never really knew Kingston. I’m not sure anyone did apart from the few people he allowed into his orbit.

He ascends the steps of the private jet and doesn’t pause until we reach the seats at the back. He carefully places me beside the window, his brows dipped in concern for a beat before he turns on his heel and returns to the front of the plane.

I lift my fist to my mouth, biting down on the abused flesh to stop myself from begging him to stay. Because the truth is, I don’t know how to handle being alone right now.

Without someone beside me, all I can think about is what I ran from.

My parents, who will never have a funeral.

The boy I thought would be my entire future.

And the man that always held more of my heart than he should have.

I’m leaving everyone that ever meant anything to me behind, and even after the worst few days of my life, the idea of starting over, of being truly alone for the first time in my life, is terrifying.

A single tear rolls down my cheek, a precursor for the barrage begging to be set free.

Kingston reappears beside me with a blanket and a bottle of water, but this time when his brow dips, it’s from confusion rather than concern, like he’s not sure what to do first.

After a few seconds, he drops the water on the chair beside me and unfolds the blanket, carefully tucking it around me and buckling the seat belt around my waist.

After days of being exposed, of being dressed in nothing but a nightgown, it’s nice to be covered, to have some protection between me and the outside world.

Once he’s satisfied that I’m secured, he uncaps the water and presses it to my lips, allowing me to take small sips the same way Damon did in the cell.

I press my eyes closed, desperately trying to hold the tears at bay, but it’s no use. Everything I’ve bottled up, the fear, the loss, the hope—it needs an escape.

Kingston pulls the bottle away when the first tear slides down my cheek, and a moment later he’s crouching in front of me with my cheek cupped in his hand. “You’re okay now, Mama. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

I choke on a desperate sob because I wish I could believe him. I wish there were any hope left inside me. But there’s not. There’s nothing. An empty void where my heart once lived and a baby I have no idea how to care for alone.

He curses, his dark-brown eyes glancing around, desperately searching for something to comfort me.

When he doesn’t find anything, he unclips the belt he just secured around my waist and lifts me into his arms. He drops into the seat I was just in and rearranges me in his lap.

Every touch is gentle, even as he flags the hostess over and asks for a seat belt extender, which he promptly attaches and wraps around me.

I shouldn’t seek his comfort. I shouldn’t lean into his warmth. But when he presses my face against his chest as he whispers promises of safety, I allow myself to believe the words he’s saying.

Even if it’s just for a little while.

CHAPTER FIVE

RYKER

NOW

It’s been hours since Chloe disappeared. Hours of uncertainty. Hours of hopelessness. And hours of bickering between Ronan and me.

If he’s not careful, I’m going to put a bullet through his head, consequences be damned because he’s on my last nerve.

“Give me Kingston’s number,” he demands.

“No,” I grind out. There’s nothing the boss values more than privacy, and the fact a whole room of people know he’s the owner of Hawk Security is already shoving me further into the bad books. I refuse to give someone who has been hunting him for decades his direct line.

“I need to know she’s okay.”

“Join the fucking club. It’s still not happening.”

Camilla rolls her eyes from where she’s perched in Crew’s lap, her own phone in her hands as she taps away on the screen.

We’ve retreated back to the private jet we arrived on just in case we have to make a quick getaway, but without any idea where to go, we’re in limbo.

“I’ve already tried calling him,” she tells us. “It went straight to voicemail, so I suspect he has his phone off, and I can’t imagine turning it on to find an inbox full of threats is going to make him want to let us know how Chloe is.”

I smirk across at Ronan smugly. Apart from the knowledge that his family held my girl captive on two separate occasions, I can’t figure out why the guy irks me so much.

Maybe it’s because he knows what it feels like to be inside Chloe. The fact it had been ten years since she had had sex, I assume he was the last person to touch her, and given their age, it’s possible he’s the only other person on this earth that she’s been intimate with.

Or it could be that he helped to take her from me, that despite him being the one to free her, he’s also the reason we’re in this mess. His jealousy got the best of him, and he chose to help his asshole brother kidnap her.

Ronan huffs out a sigh and drops back against his seat.

Good.

If I had it my way, he wouldn’t even be on this goddamn plane. He’d be delivered back to the Lombardis like the traitor he is.

But that’s not what Chloe would want, and therefore I refuse to give in to the urge.

“You guys should head back to New York,” I say, meeting Crew’s eye across the aisle. “Kingston won’t hurt her, and we won’t find him until he wants to be found.”

Camilla opens her mouth to argue, but Bishop nods in agreement before she can. “He’s right, Love. She’s not in immediate danger with Kingston, and we can’t be away from the city forever. Crew and I are fielding things as best we can from here, but we need to start putting things into place for our next chapter.”

She sighs and presses her eyes closed. It’s rare for Camilla to show weakness with anyone other than her men, but if the dark circles beneath her eyes and winces of pain are anything to go by, she needs time to recover as well. “Fine, but Ryker and Ronan will keep looking for her. Together.”

I’m about to argue when the asshole across from me gets to it first. “Absolutely not,” he snaps. “I’ll find her myself and bring her back to New York.”

I chuckle, but the sound is devoid of humor. “Haven’t you been looking for Kingston for years? What makes you think you’re going to find him now? At least I worked for the guy. I know where his safe houses are, where his private residences are. I have a much better chance of finding her than you and your zero resources.”

It’s a low blow reminding him of everything he’s lost by leaving with Chloe, but I’ve reached my wit’s end with him. Maybe if I upset him enough, he’ll leave, and I won’t have to kill him.

The thought disappoints me more than it should, reminding me of how long it’s been since I’ve killed someone. If I don’t have blood coating my hands soon, I might break out in hives.

Before he can reply, my phone buzzes in my hand, and my chest tightens. There are so few people with this number, and something that feels a lot like hope creeps into the organ that keeps me alive.

The Boss

I almost drop the phone in my haste to answer it when I realize who’s calling.

“Hello?”

“Ryker,” he greets gruffly. “Four hundred and thirty-seven missed calls, really?”

“If you didn’t block my number, I wouldn’t have had to keep calling,” I snap. “Do you have Chloe? Is she okay?”

“I do, and she is.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose at how little information he’s giving me. I should be grateful that he’s giving me anything at all given my own betrayal, but I’m desperate for more. Desperate to talk to the woman who changed something inside me. “Where are you?”

“That doesn’t matter. I thought I owed you the courtesy of letting you know that Chloe is safe. You can all return to New York. I’ll have your next assignment to you by the end of the week.”

He doesn’t give me a chance to respond before he ends the call, leaving me just as frustrated as I was before.

“Was that Kingston? Is she okay?” Ronan asks, shifting to the edge of his seat.

I nod slowly. “He didn’t give me much other than that.”

“So we don’t know where they are?” Camilla asks.

I shake my head. “But I know where we can start.”

CHAPTER SIX

CHLOE

NOW

It’s been hours since Kingston left me with more questions than I had when I woke up here.

At first I thought I could wait him out, that eventually he would come back and answer the million and one questions I have, but it’s been hours, and I’ve drained the bottle of water he left beside the bed and devoured the protein bar I found in the drawer.

It’s been days since I’ve eaten anything with substance, and my stomach grows louder each time it growls, giving me no choice other than leaving the safety of this room.

It’s not familiar, which makes me think we’re not in Atlanta, where he brought me ten years ago, but maybe he’s moved since then.

Slipping from between the sheets, I pad toward the window where soft light peeks through the drawn curtains. The soft gray fabric beneath my fingers pulls easily along the rail, but when I find myself staring out at a large garden with what looks like a forest beyond, I realize I’m not in a city at all.

I could be anywhere in the country or beyond, and I would have no idea.

Pressing my eyes closed when a wave of nausea rolls over me, I slide the curtains shut and move toward the bathroom.

I do my business as quickly as I can and avoid the mirror at all costs, instead spending the time it takes to brush my teeth looking around at the solid marble surfaces and luxury products in the shower, ignoring the fact that each one of them is exactly what I had at the De Marco estate.

It has to be a coincidence.

Once I’m finished, I move toward the door and drag in an unsteady breath. I can do this.

One of the things I’ve refused to acknowledge since I woke up is that I’m no longer wearing the hospital gown Camilla helped dress me in. Because that would mean Kingston, or his doctor, changed me while I was unconscious, and after Ralph’s assault, my fragile mind can’t handle that possibility.

One thing at a time.

I pad out of the room and down a long hallway before I reach a grand staircase.

Where the hell are we?

The last time I saw Kingston, he had a penthouse in the heart of a major city. But this is a mansion in the middle of nowhere if the view outside my window is anything to go by.

Ten years is a long time, I remind myself.

I clutch onto the railing and take my time on my way down the stairs. I’m still a little dizzy, from the drugs or the concussion, I’m not sure, but I don’t need to add falling down these steps to my list of problems.

When I make it to the bottom step, I close the distance between me and the window beside the front door, where I find another garden and more dense forest.

Yep, definitely in the middle of nowhere, which means it’s going to be difficult, if not impossible, to run.

Biting down on my bottom lip, I turn left in my search for the kitchen but stop dead when I find Kingston standing at a bay window, his hands shoved into the pockets of his suit.

His shoulders are relaxed, and for a moment I wonder if he knows I’m here, but then he glances over at me, intense brown eyes meeting mine.

Once upon a time, those eyes were what held me together through the worst days of my life, but they seem harder now. Like the years since I’ve seen him have changed him.

“Did you get some more rest?” he asks.

I nod.

“Are you hungry?”

I don’t get a chance to answer before my stomach grumbles loudly, causing a smirk to tug at his lips.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He tilts his head toward a wide doorway I didn’t notice before, a grand kitchen on the other side.

I follow him into the huge space that must be a chef’s wet dream and pause at the edge of the island as he rummages through the fridge. The tiles are cool beneath my bare feet, and I curse myself for not finding socks before I came downstairs.

There’s a chill coming off the wall of windows on the other side of the kitchen and dining room, which makes me think we’re somewhere north, but that’s nothing but a guess.

“Do you still like grilled cheese?” he asks, holding up a block of cheddar.

“I can make it,” I murmur.

“No, you won’t,” he replies, dropping the cheese and butter on the counter before disappearing into what I assume is the pantry.

Kingston returns a moment later with a loaf of bread and a pan.

He moves around the kitchen with ease, never opening the wrong drawer or cupboard when he’s searching for something.

I bite down on my bottom lip to hide the hiss of pain as I climb onto the stool across from him, earning me a worried look.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed.” He frowns.

“I’m fine.” I shake my head. “I know you said it’s not safe for anyone to know where I am, but could you just let Camilla know I’m okay? She’s probably going out of her mind.”

“I’ve already told them that you’re fine and safe with me.”

“You have?” I blurt before I can think better of it. Something I learned about Kingston during my time with him all those years ago is that there’s a limit on how many questions he’s willing to answer and that I should choose them wisely.

“Yes. I believe they’re on their way back to New York as we speak, and Ryker will have a new assignment shortly.”

The reminder of my bodyguard makes my chest ache. I miss him. More than I should. More than I have any right to. But something I’m realizing about myself is that it takes very little for me to grow attached to people, and in just a matter of days, Ryker came to mean so much to me.

“He’s being sent to guard someone else?”

“Not exactly.”

I sigh, pressing my eyes closed. I forgot how frustrating his non-answers are. Everything is so cryptic with him.

“Ryker isn’t actually a bodyguard,” he tells me as he adds butter to the pan and waits for it to melt.

“He isn’t?”

“No. He normally investigates missing women and children and then takes care of those responsible for their pain.”

I stare at him for long seconds, trying to make sense of the words he’s saying. Is he saying that Ryker is some kind of private investigator? And what does he mean he takes care of those responsible? “Why was he guarding me if that’s not normally what he does?”

“Because I told him to.”

I swallow heavily around the lump in my throat, my chest tightening with the realization that not only does Ryker know Kingston, but he also must work for him.

Was everything between us a lie? A way to get close to me for his boss?

Was any of it even real?

Or was I just a job to the first man I’ve allowed to touch me in ten years?

CHAPTER SEVEN

KINGSTON

NOW

The pieces are falling into place in her mind without me ever having to fill in the gaps.

When I realized Ryker had fallen for Chloe, I was furious. Because he had two rules going into his assignment.

Protect her with your life, and don’t fucking touch her.

And he failed at both.

I should kill him. He deserves to die for failing so spectacularly, but he’s an asset to my team and one of only two people I trust to dish out an appropriate amount of pain to the scum of the earth we hunt.

Which unfortunately means I have to keep him alive, but that doesn’t mean I have to ever allow him near Chloe.

If I have it my way, the two of them will never be in the same room again. In fact, if I have it my way, Chloe will never be in a room with another man.

Is it unreasonable? Absolutely.

But she’s mine.

I’ve waited long enough to claim her.

I’ve watched her from the shadows, I’ve kept her safe from a distance, and I’ve built a life worthy of her, even if I never will be.

Which means she has no need for other men, especially Ryker and anyone within the Lombardi bloodline.

The bread sizzles when I place it in the melted butter, and I busy myself adding the cheese and the other slice of bread while Chloe’s mind wanders.

I don’t think I could have planned this better if I tried, but as much as I hate to admit it, she’s going to be upset by this revelation. Upset that another man lied to her.

Swallowing down my own jealousy, I turn my attention to Chloe and find her wiping a tear from her cheek.

My poor girl has known too much pain in her life, but that ends now. I’ll make her so happy she’ll forget about all the times her heart was broken, including when it was me doing the breaking.

It was necessary at the time to leave her, even if I hated doing it. Even if my skin crawled and I couldn’t sleep for weeks as I watched her set up her new life away from me.

I couldn’t give her everything she deserved at the time, and she needed time to heal before she could truly move on.

The De Marcos gave her that. They gave her a place to grieve and something to live for, and for that I will always be loyal to their family.

Once the grilled cheese is perfectly crispy on the edges and melted on the inside, I cut it in half and place it on a plate for her, pushing it across the counter.

“There you go, Mama.”

She flinches at the nickname but doesn’t curse me out like she did earlier when I used it. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

I sigh and round the counter, turning her chair until I can wedge myself between her thighs. I had the doctor help me change her into a soft pair of pajamas before she left, something I’m sure my little spitfire was pissed about when she woke up. “You need to eat something, Chloe. Your body needs it.”

“You don’t know what I need,” she snaps.

There it is. There’s the fire I’ve missed so desperately. We may have only spent a few weeks together all those years ago, but I grew more addicted to her than I should have. To this day I have no idea how I dragged myself out of that penthouse, leaving nothing but a note and an envelope of information about her new life.

I bite down on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from smirking. “Everyone needs to eat, Chloe, especially when they’ve only eaten a single protein bar in the last twenty-four hours.”

“I want to go home.” She glares up at me.

“You are home.”

“This isn’t my home,” she growls. “I don’t even know where we are.”

“I am your home, Mama. You’ll see that soon.” I brush my fingers down her cheek, reveling in her softness.

God, I missed her so much.

More than I thought possible after so many years on my own.

I thought the day I left the Lombardi compound, burning every bridge I’d ever built, that I would never care for anyone again.

Caroline was my best friend. We’d known each other since we were kids, and when she married Salvatore, it made sense that I would start working for him. We grew up in a rough neighborhood, so I was no stranger to running drugs and guns, and eventually I was one of his most trusted men.

Leaving was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but if I wanted to keep breathing, it was a necessary evil and one I’ll never regret.

Chloe huffs, turning her cheek to dislodge my hand, and I allow her the moment of reprieve. I won’t always relent to her, but she needs a little space right now.

If I push her too hard, she’ll run, and with so many people looking for her, I can ill afford for that to happen.

“Can you at least tell me where we are?”

I consider it for a moment. Her knowing our location doesn’t change anything. It won’t make her escape any more likely, and I don’t plan to give her access to a phone or the internet anytime soon, so I don’t see the harm in giving her an olive branch. “We’re at my house in Connecticut.”

She nods slowly, her eyes lifting back to mine. “You don’t live in Atlanta anymore?”

“I have places all over the country because I travel a lot for work. But this is the house I bought for us.”

“Does someone else live here?” Her brow dips slightly.

“No. This is our home. I bought it for you.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because I want to give you the world, Mama. This is just the start.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHLOE

NOW

Confused doesn’t even begin to describe what I’m feeling right now.

Every word out of Kingston’s mouth is more insane than the last, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t make sense of anything that’s happened since he took me from the hospital.

I’m desperate to talk to Camilla, or really anyone that isn’t the man moving around the kitchen stacking dishes into the dishwasher while I force myself to eat the grilled cheese he made me.

It’s delicious, and on any normal day I would have probably eaten it in three bites. But it’s not every day that your dad’s best friend turned enemy tells you he bought a mansion for you.

Not only that, but it was how casually he dropped the bomb, like spending that kind of money on someone you haven’t seen in a decade is the sanest thing in the world.

I take a few more bites before pushing the plate across the counter, unable to force myself to eat another bite.

Kingston frowns down at the half-eaten sandwich but doesn’t comment, instead lifting it to his own lips and finishing the half I left without a word.

This is all so…domestic. Like everything that’s happening is part of our everyday routine, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Something on your mind, Mama?”

I suck in a breath at the nickname on his lips. Will I ever get used to him calling me that? “About a million things,” I admit.

He drops his elbows to the counter and leans forward. “Go on then.”

I open my mouth but snap it shut again, because I honestly don’t know where to start. “Did you bring me here to be your maid?”

The words tumble out before I can catch them, but it’s as good a question as any because the alternative is inconceivable.

Kingston chuckles, his eyes creasing at the corners in a way they didn’t a decade ago. “Fuck no. You’re here because you’re mine, and I want to give you the life you’ve always dreamed of.”

“And what exactly is the life I’ve always dreamed of?”

For the last ten years I’ve had one goal.

Survive.

It’s been so damn long since I’ve allowed myself to want anything, let alone imagine a life where survival wasn’t my number one priority.

There was a time I wanted the picture-perfect family with the future underboss of the Lombardi family, but now?

Now I just want to be happy.

I want to be safe.

It would be nice to not spend the rest of my days looking over my shoulder, analyzing every perceived threat.

Kingston watches me, his dark eyes moving over my face as he considers the question I’ve just asked. “A life where you’re safe. Loved. Free to follow any path you choose for yourself.”

My eyes fall closed, and for just a second, I let myself consider his answer. I think about what a life here could be like, how it would feel to take what he’s offering and run with it.

But even with the safety he offers, there’s something missing.

Or more accurately, someone.

Multiple someones, actually.

I groan internally at the realization.

This is quite the mess I’ve made for myself.

“I can’t spend the rest of my life locked up in this house, King.” I force my eyes to meet his, my heart beating so hard I can barely breathe through the thumping in my chest. “What happens when you travel for work? I stay here and wait for you? Alone? That’s not a life, Kingston. That’s leaving one cage for a gilded one.”

“You’re not a prisoner here,” he snaps.

“Aren’t I?” I raise a brow, slipping from the stool to leave the kitchen. I need to put some distance between us to remind myself why I can’t accept the pretty offer he’s laying out in front of me. “Would you mind taking me to the airport? I’d love to get back to New York by tonight.”

He growls, and I don’t hear him approach until it’s too late.

His hand clamps around my shoulder, spinning me so quickly I’d likely fall if it weren’t for his hold on me, and a moment later my back hits the wall beside the doorway.

Kingston’s hard body presses into mine, stealing the air from my lungs for a whole new reason.

The last time we were together, I was in no place to be entertaining the idea of another man. Not physically, at least. But that doesn’t mean my feelings for him didn’t grow in those weeks.

It’s hard not to fall for a ruthless man who cares for you through the hardest days of your existence with tenderness and never-ending patience.

The days I couldn’t get out of bed because my grief was so debilitating. The way he fed me every meal by hand just to make sure I ate. And how he reminded me that despite losing everyone I loved in a matter of days, it didn’t mean I’d never love again.

But this is different.

He’s not looking at me like I’m fragile or as if I’m about to fall apart.

He’s looking at me like I’m his next meal and he can’t wait to devour me.

I try to break away from his intense gaze, but rough fingers grip my chin, forcing me to look up at his towering form.

He’s at least a foot taller than me, making my neck ache from the angle it takes to hold his eyes.

“It’s not safe for you to leave right now,” he murmurs, his breath whispering across my cheek.

“And when will it be safe?” I hiss. “Tomorrow? Next week? A year from now?”

“Once my ring is on your finger and you share my name. Only then will it be safe for you to leave the property.”

CHAPTER NINE

RONAN

NOW

Being alone with someone I’d like to watch bleed out in a ditch is irritating.

Relying on said person I’d like to watch bleed out in a ditch is even fucking worse.

Ryker and I said goodbye to Camilla and her men when the jet landed in New York and waited for the crew to refuel, and now we’re back in the air.

Alone.

This is a bad idea.

I’ve known it since the second the others stepped off the plane, but I become surer of it by the second.

There’s only one way this little trip goes, and it’s with one of us in a body bag.

It’s just until we find Chloe, I tell myself.

But then what?

Neither of us is going to give her up without a fight, and that’s provided we ever find her at all.

Kingston has spent years evading us. Why would he make it any easier to find him now?

Especially now he has something valuable to hide.

Someone.

Fuck. How did this happen? How could I possibly let Kingston take Chloe…again?

I had her back for such a short amount of time I barely had the chance to consider what our future could look like now that so much time has passed.

When we were teenagers, it was easy. There was a path laid out in front of us, and we just had to follow it. Finish college. Move back to Miami. Step into the family business. Get married. Have a family.

It was so easy back then, but not now. Not with all the baggage we both have and the trauma my family inflicted on my sweet sparrow.

It’s probably a good thing I’ve left the family, because for how long could I continue looking my father in the eye knowing he would have killed the mother of my child given the opportunity?

For a long time, being a Lombardi was just a waiting game. Damon’s time would come, and I would no longer answer to the man that raised me. A man I had come to loathe over the years. Even before I knew the truth.

Which means if for some reason we can’t find Kingston, and therefore can’t find Chloe, I have no one. Nothing.

“Are you still sulking over there?” Ryker grunts, looking up from his phone for the first time since we took off.

Other than the fact he works for my sworn enemy, I don’t know about him or his past. But I’m curious.

Even after several deep dives and my best hacker searching for anything they could find, Ryker is an enigma.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“Been called worse.” He shrugs.

“Shocking,” I deadpan.

He drops his phone to his lap, folding his arms over his chest to consider me. His intensity is one of the first things I noticed about him, but he wasn’t like that with Chloe.

He was soft. Gentle even. And from everything I’ve seen, that goes against his very nature.

“Kingston won’t hurt her,” he informs me after long minutes of staring one another down.

“You don’t know that.”

“Actually, I do.” He sighs, reaching for the unopened bottle of water sitting in front of him. He doesn’t open it immediately, and I realize he needs something to do with his hands. “King is obsessed with Chloe. Has been for a long time. If I were a betting man, which I absolutely am, I’d guess he has her in one of his mansions wooing her.”

I open my mouth to reply only to snap it shut a moment later. There are an endless number of things wrong with the picture Ryker just painted, starting with the eighteen-year age gap and ending with the fact Kingston killed my mother, a woman that Chloe loved just as much as she did her own.

Ryker takes my silence as an invitation to keep talking, and I can’t seem to find my voice to tell him to shut the fuck up.

“I don’t know much, only that not long after I started working for him, he disappeared for a few weeks. He told us to fend for ourselves and that he’d murder anyone that interrupted him. And then when he returned, he was different.”

“Different how?” I find myself asking.

“More driven. The goal was always to build an empire, but when he came back, he was tenacious about building the company as quickly as possible. I thought it was strange at the time, but I understand it now.” He stares off into the distance. “It was too dangerous to bring Chloe into his world at the time, but he’s spent a decade building an impenetrable kingdom for his future queen.”

CHAPTER TEN

KINGSTON

THEN

TEN YEARS AGO

Every time I lift Chloe into my arms, it’s hard to put her down again, and I’m trying really fucking hard not to analyze that too much.

She clings to my hand as I drive through the streets of Atlanta, bound for the penthouse I bought last year after getting sick of hiding my weapons in hotel rooms.

There are only so many guns a hotel safe can hold.

“You doing okay, Mama?”

She nods, but she doesn’t look away from the road ahead.

“I have a doctor meeting us at the apartment. Can you tell me where you’re hurt so I can communicate that to her if you’re unable to?”

Chloe swallows heavily and shifts in her seat, wincing slightly at the movement. “Can you ask her to bring an ultrasound machine?”

“Do you have reason to believe you might have internal bleeding?” I ask through gritted teeth. I know so little of what she’s been through, but everything I uncover makes me want to end the entire Lombardi line more.

What the fuck was Salvatore thinking hurting an innocent eighteen-year-old, let alone his son’s girlfriend?

She shakes her head slowly, dragging in an unsteady breath. “No. I’m pregnant. I need to make sure the baby is okay.”

It’s a good thing we’re on a quiet street because the entire car swerves with how quickly I turn to look at her.

Chloe squeals, and her hand tightens around mine as I right the car.

Fuck.

“Sorry,” I murmur, brushing my thumb over the back of her hand in comforting circles.

“It’s okay,” she whispers. “If I’d been driving when I found out, I probably would have done the same thing.”

“How far along are you?”

“I don’t know. I found out a few hours before Salvatore’s men came for me. Never even had a chance to process it or to tell Ronan.” The final words come out on a broken sob, and I clutch her hand in mine tighter, offering the only support I can as I pull into the underground parking garage beneath my building.

“Did they know you were pregnant when they took you?”

“No. Not at first. Damon found the test after maybe a day…I lost track of time. But Salvatore knew when he came to kill us. He chose to kill me last as punishment for getting knocked up.”

A deep growl forces its way from my chest, but I force my hand to remain gentle around hers. She doesn’t need my anger. Right now, Chloe needs softness and understanding.

“I’ll make sure the doctor brings the machine,” I reassure her.

I take my usual spot closest to the elevator, but instead of getting out straight away, I tap out a message to the doctor and then turn back to Chloe.

“Any other injuries?”

“My wrist.” She holds up her hand, but the oversized sweater I helped her into before we left the jet cuts off my view. “I had to dislocate my thumb to get out of the zip ties.”

“Did your dad teach you how to do that?”

“No,” she whispers, fresh tears pooling in her eyes. “Damon did. Back before he started hating me.”

The last time I saw Chloe, she was just a kid who had two shadows following her everywhere. The three of them were inseparable, much to Salvatore’s dismay. He wanted his boys to be strong, to be soldiers even before they could fully comprehend the family they were born into.

Although both Damon and Ronan are my godsons I had little to do with the kids and only saw them a couple of times a year at family events, but even back then, those boys looked at Chloe like she hung the moon.

“You did good, Mama.” I give her hand one last gentle squeeze before climbing out and rounding the car to the passenger door.

The nickname that slipped off my tongue with such ease has a new meaning now.

Pregnant.

With Ronan Lombardi’s baby.

It’s a complication, but not one I can’t work around.

Once she’s seen the doctor and is able to get some rest, I want to get to the bottom of whether the youngest Lombardi had anything to do with his girlfriend’s captivity.

But for the moment, Chloe is my priority.

I lift her into my arms and revel in the way she curls into my chest, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

She shouldn’t feel so right in my arms, but she does, and that’s just another thing I’ll need to work through once she’s resting comfortably.

Everything else can wait.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHLOE

NOW

Kingston dropped the marriage bomb and disappeared before I could begin to process what he just said.

Because what the fuck does he mean I can’t leave until I have his ring on my finger?

I’ve spent the last twenty minutes searching the house for his office, but I keep getting turned around. This place is too big for just two people, something I would tell him if I could find him.

I have no plans to marry anyone, let alone Kingston Beaumont.

The house is warm despite the chill coming off the windows, but I still long to curl up on the balcony off the living room upstairs.

The view of the forest beyond calls to me, and I can’t help but think about how peaceful it would be to read a book out there.

But when I find the library a few doors down, I remind myself I’m not here on vacation and that until I can work out how to escape this house, there will be no relaxing or reading.

I open several bedroom doors and close them when I find them empty apart from a perfectly made bed.

How many guest rooms does one house need?

Even as I think it, I remember how many both the Lombardi and De Marco houses have and shake off the question.

What the hell has Kingston been doing all these years to make enough money to afford this place? The penthouse in Atlanta was one thing, but this is different.

Because not only is this house huge, it’s also on a fair amount of land, which can’t have come cheap.

The door of the room I woke up in is still wide open when I pass it, but I pause in the doorway when I notice the bed is made.

Either Kingston ran up here for turndown service, or there’s someone else in the house.

Someone that might help me.

And short of that, they might have a phone I can use to call Camilla, and that’s the thought I cling to as I start searching with renewed hope.

I shove the door across from mine open and pause when I’m hit with Kingston’s aftershave. The bedroom is decorated in dark grays and solid wood, and I take a step forward, curiosity driving me into the room, even when I know I should keep searching for whoever made my bed.

The blinds are open, showering the room in natural light, but I’m surprised by how sparse it is in here.

Just like the guest rooms, it’s just a bed and a few pieces of furniture.

If it weren’t for how strong his scent is, I wouldn’t have even realized it was Kingston’s bedroom.

Nibbling at my bottom lip, I step closer to the bed and notice the two open doors on my right. One leads to a bathroom and the other to a closet full of clothes.

To my left I notice a few picture frames on his bedside table and step toward them without thought.

I shouldn’t be snooping, but he did kidnap me and is now holding me hostage, so really, what does he expect?

My heart pangs when I lift the first photo from its spot, shaking fingers moving over a photo of Caroline and the boys. Ronan looks so young, so innocent, and I try to remember this day.

Kingston has Damon on his shoulders, a wide smile lighting up his features, while Ronan has an arm wrapped around his mother.

I remember the photo more than the day, because Caroline used to have it beside her bed as well, even after the accident.

Salvatore hated the fact his wife couldn’t let go of King, couldn’t let go of the memories of her best friend, and the day she died, I watched him throw the photo into the fire, something I’m sure he’d been dying to do for years.

Placing the photo back in its place, I pick up the next one, and my heart does a little flip it has no right doing at the sight of Ryker.

He looks out of place in a suit, his tattoos peeking out from the neck and from beneath the sleeves, but there’s a smile on his lips. Kingston has his arm wrapped around the man I thought was my bodyguard, his own black suit fitting to perfection.

I try to imagine what the two of them are so dressed up for, but I realize I know so little about them, it could have been anything.

Reaching for the final photo frame, my heart stutters in my chest at my own face staring back at me, and this time I know exactly when it was taken.

Camilla’s graduation party.

The emerald dress I’d been saving for a special occasion fits better than I remember, and I look…happy. If the last few weeks are proof of anything, it’s that I took that happiness for granted, something I’ll never do again.

Shaking fingers glide across the glass, longing for that time in my life. It wasn’t perfect, but I had my freedom, and I’m coming to realize that’s all I’ve ever really wanted.

Someone clears their throat behind me, and I spin on my heel, coming face to face with the latest man to take that freedom.

“Find what you were looking for, Mama?”

“How do you have this?” I demand.

“John De Marco sent it to me,” he replies, stepping farther into the room and closing the distance between us.

“Why would he do that?”

“He used to give me updates on how you were doing. It was a shame when he died. He was a good man.”

I can’t find it in me to disagree, because although watching the barbaric ways he prepared Camilla to take the throne made me hate him some days, he was always kind to me, and everything he did, he did for a reason.

He didn’t force her to withstand torture because he wanted to. He did it to make her stronger, to make her the best leader she could be.

And without all that training, I’m not sure she would be where she is today, and I certainly don’t think she could have handled those men of hers without it.

“Why would he give you updates on me?”

“Because I asked him to.”

“Why?”

Kingston sighs and steps closer again, this time not pausing until the back of my legs hit the bed and his fingers brush along my jaw. “That should be obvious to you by now, Chloe.”

“Well, it isn’t, so I would appreciate you spelling it out for me.”

He chuckles, his breath whispering across my cheeks and making it hard to remember why I’m angry with him. “Because our story didn’t end the day I left you, Mama. It was just beginning. I had to get my world ready for you to take your place beside me, and although every day I spent without you was excruciating, it was necessary.”

I open my mouth to respond, to argue, but before I get a chance to utter a single word, his lips are on mine.

Kissing Kingston is nothing like my dreams. I expected his lips to be rough, for his kisses to be brutal, but neither of those things is true.

His fingers feed into the back of my hair, holding me in place as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping along my lips, demanding entry I couldn’t deny him even if I wanted to.

A deep rumble climbs his throat as his other hand wraps around me and tugs me against him, leaving no space between us.

I’m too stunned to push him away with the hands I have braced on his chest, but even if I could, I’m not sure I would.

Because of the way he’s holding me, with a reverence I could only have dreamed of, I realize that I’m not as over him as I wanted to believe I was.

“Fuck, you taste like heaven, Chloe,” he murmurs against my lips. “You don’t know how many times I’ve thought about how you would feel against me, how many nights I spent imagining what it would feel like to finally have you in my arms.”

For the first time since I woke up with my hand in his, I can’t help but wonder if, despite my reservations, I’ve finally found my way to where I’m meant to be.

CHAPTER TWELVE

KINGSTON

NOW

It’s been so long since I let someone touch me that her hands pressed to my chest and her body pinned to mine are almost enough to make me come in my pants like a fucking teenager.

I’ve spent the last ten years preparing for this moment, but now it’s here, and I can’t fuck it up.

Not if I want her to stay.

Watching her explore the house from my office was a unique kind of torture because I wanted nothing more than to be beside her, showing her all the things I’ve done to make her life here more comfortable.

The library full of her favorite books, the sitting rooms that get the perfect amount of sun throughout the day, and the pool I had installed outside for the summer.

But instead I stayed put, allowing her to explore alone.

I know she was looking for me, wanting to tell me in no uncertain terms that she would not be marrying me, but she doesn’t have a choice in the matter.

As badly as I want to give Chloe the world, I need her to be my wife.

I need to know she’s mine in every possible way, even if she hates me for it.

A better man would have asked. He would have got down on one knee and pledged his undying love. But I’ve never claimed to be a good man.

It takes every ounce of restraint not to throw her on the bed behind her and spend the rest of the day exploring her perfect body, but we’re not there yet.

I have to take things slowly if I want her to believe I’m serious.

Not too slow, though, because I have little doubt that Ryker will sniff us out eventually. He’s my number two, the person I trust more than anyone else in the world, but I don’t trust him not to take Chloe from me.

He’s already broken the rules once when it comes to her, not that I can blame him.

She’s perfect.

Sweet and innocent, but with a fire that draws you in.

There’s a reason both the Lombardi boys were so taken with her, and there’s a reason Ryker and I have since been dragged into her orbit.

But only one of us can have her, and it’s going to be me.

Tugging the hair at the back of her head softly, I trail kisses down her throat, licking and sucking on the soft skin as I go.

I want to taste her everywhere, want to make her beg for more, only to plead for me to stop. I want to overwhelm her with so many sensations she can’t tell where she ends and I begin.

But first I need to make her my wife.

Preferably before Ryker and Ronan tick off too many of my potential locations.

It won’t take him long. He’s one of the best hunters I’ve ever met. Tenacious and unyielding, he can find just about anyone, and he has the added benefit of knowing me better than anyone else in the world.

The fact Ronan knows his way around a computer is an added problem, but not one I’m as concerned about. After all, he and his family have been looking for me for years and have never come close to finding me.

Chloe’s hands fist into my shirt, tugging me closer despite herself. It’s going to take some time to convince her that marrying me is the right decision, but I have faith she’ll get there.

And even if she doesn’t, it’s still happening.

She can have anything she wants in this world, as long as she’s my wife.

A soft moan falls from her swollen lips when I find a particularly sensitive spot beneath her jaw.

“So responsive, Mama,” I murmur against her impossibly soft skin.

“King, please,” she whimpers, and the sound of my name on her lips is almost enough to make me blow without her ever touching me.

Fuck.

There is a very cold shower in my future.

“What do you need, Chloe?”

She tugs at my shirt again but drags her bottom lip between her teeth rather than answering.

Lifting the hand from around her waist, I free the swollen pillow, tracing the softness with my thumb.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” I rumble. “You’re worth every single second I’ve waited for you.”

Green pools flash with uncertainty, but I cut off her question before she can ask it. Maybe if I can keep her drunk on lust, I can get her to say “I do” without a fight.

Even as I think it, I know it’s not going to happen. Chloe is nothing if not headstrong, and it’s one of the things that made me fall for her.

The weeks we spent together all those years ago, while she was dealing with the loss of her parents, the man she thought she would marry, and the baby she barely had a chance to long for, she was always sassy and willing to put me in my place.

I’ve regretted not making her mine back then. As shitty as it sounds, she was vulnerable and heartbroken, and it would have been easy to convince her marrying me was the best choice she could make. But not only would that make me an asshole, it also would have led to her resenting me.

She would have spent most of her time alone, locked up in a penthouse and probably miserable.

Sending her away was the best thing I could have done for both of us at the time, but it won’t be happening again.

I graze my teeth over her bottom lip, dragging a needy moan from the woman in my arms. She feels so small against me, so right. Like this is where she was always meant to be.

Chloe steps closer until there’s no space between us, and she can certainly feel my hardness pressed against her stomach.

My cock begs to be released, but it’s safer where it is. I refuse to embarrass myself the first time I fuck her, and I’m too worked up right now.

If I let her touch me, if I let my dick anywhere near Chloe’s pretty little holes, I’m going to blow my load immediately.

“King,” she murmurs against my lips, an ounce of hesitance in her tone. “We can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what, Mama?”

She sucks in a breath at the use of the nickname, her eyes pressing closed for a beat before staring up at me with so much uncertainty it makes my chest ache.

My poor girl has been through so much, has survived things no one else would, and I long to take care of her, to take away all her worries and just let her be.

“Any of this,” she whispers. “Now or ever.”

“Because you don’t want it, or because you don’t think you should?” I ask, forcing my hold on her to remain gentle.

I always knew this was going to be a hard sell, made even harder by the reappearance of the Lombardi brothers and her newfound attachment to my best killer, but I know I can talk her around.

With time she’ll see why this is the right path for her.

Chloe’s lips part but quickly snap shut again. Either she’s not certain which it is, or she doesn’t want to admit it out loud.

I brush my thumb across her cheek, and she leans into my touch like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Tell me why this can’t happen, Mama. Tell me why you can’t be mine.”

Her bottom lip disappears between her teeth again. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to hurt you.” Tears gather at the corners of her eyes, and my chest tightens at the sight.

There’s nothing I hate more than watching Chloe cry. The idea that I can’t fix whatever plagues her is unacceptable to me, regardless of how irrational that thought may be.

“You’re not going to hurt me, and I’m not going to hurt you,” I assure her. “You don’t have to run anymore. All you have to do is let me take care of you. Let me take care of everything.”

The tears she was trying to hold at bay fall against her cheeks a moment before she shoves at my chest, forcing me back a step and allowing her to dip beneath my arm.

“Don’t make pretty promises you can’t keep, Kingston.” She swipes at the tears, but they’re quickly replaced by more.

“Chloe—”

“No,” she snaps. “I’m your prisoner here. You won’t let me leave. You won’t let me talk to Camilla. You won’t tell me what the hell is going on besides cryptic claims.” She chokes on a sob, but she takes a step back when I reach for her. “You’re just the latest in a long line of captors.”

She’s gone before I can respond, and truthfully, I don’t know what I would say even if I could.

One way or another, Chloe will become my wife. I just hope it’s by choice rather than me having to force her hand.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

DAMON

NOW

Kingston fucking Beaumont continues to be the bane of my existence.

It’s unclear whether Chloe knew he would come for her or not, but the fact he did is all I need to know to see I made the wrong choice letting Ronan leave with her.

It’s only going to be a matter of time before someone works out Ralph had no reason to take them both, and eventually I’m going to have to dump the rotting corpse stinking up a wing of the compound.

Air freshener is only going to hide the distinct scent of decaying flesh for so long.

It’s been twenty-four hours since I heard from my brother, and I’ve spent that day trying to work out what to do next.

I’ve thought about spinning the story that Ralph was working for Kingston and Ronan was just collateral damage. But there are too many holes that can be poked into that story and will only make Chloe’s death more painful if we manage to get her back.

Although my feelings toward her are complicated at best, she doesn’t deserve a painful death.

I’ve considered how I can bring Ronan home without any questions, but even after being poisoned by my father’s lies about her, everyone that works for us knows my brother would never leave her behind, and faking her death has its own host of potential problems.

I drag my hand through my hair and force my eyes closed. I’ve been trying to sleep for the last three hours, but rest never comes.

Because every time I close my eyes, I see her. The woman that felt too fucking good beneath me just days before that scum almost violated her.

If nothing else good comes from this situation, his death is the best thing to happen to the family in years.

For so long I wondered what she would feel like against me, how her lips would feel beneath mine, and what she would taste like.

But now I almost wish I didn’t know.

Knowing the answer to all those questions makes me crave her, the one woman on earth I can never have. For a million different reasons, beginning with her being the love of my brother’s life and ending with all the misery I’ve caused her.

How could she ever look at me and not see the man that tortured her father in front of her?

Fuck.

I sit up and drop my head into my hands.

What a goddamn mess I’ve made for myself.

I push myself out of bed and move to my desk, where I have my burner taped to the inside of the bottom drawer.

Even as the next boss, there’s always a chance I’ll need to make a quick exit, and I’m prepared if that day ever comes. Especially given how many people in the family are displeased by who is slated to take the throne when Dad retires.

I bring up Ronan’s number and press the dial button without thought. It’s three in the morning in Miami, but if I know my brother, he won’t be sleeping until he at least has a lead on where to find Chloe.

“Hello,” he answers groggily.

“It’s me,” I say, rubbing a hand down my face. “I wanted to check in on how you’re tracking.”

He sighs, and the sound of sheets rustling fills the line. Seems he’s been able to rest more than I have. “We’re in Maine. Ryker says Kingston comes here when he wants to be alone, but the house is empty. Didn’t seem like anyone had been here in a while.”

“You’re still with the bodyguard?”

He groans. “Unfortunately. He’s a real pain in the ass, but he’s my best shot at finding Chloe.”

I nod along, despite him not being able to see me. “Do you need anything? I can wire you some money I have stashed in an offshore account if you need.”

Silence fills the line, and I pull the phone from my ear to make sure we didn’t lose connection.

“Why are you doing this, Damon?”

“Doing what?”

“Helping me? Helping Chloe?”

This time it’s me that takes a while to respond, because I don’t have an answer for him. At least not a good one.

“I don’t know,” I reply lamely.

“Yes, you do. Tell me why you’re risking everything for someone you claim to hate?” Any fatigue in his voice disappears, and I curse myself for calling.

It was only a matter of time before he started asking questions. I should have had my answers prepared.

I could lie. Hell, I should lie. But Ronan knows me better than anyone else in the world. It’s almost surprising he doesn’t know the answer himself. Or maybe he does. Maybe he’s always known my hatred for Chloe was fake. A lie I told to protect us all.

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Ryker’s tired voice comes through the line, and my brows rise in question.

“Are you sharing a room with the bodyguard?”

“Not by choice,” he rumbles. “Are you going to answer my question?”

“Nope. Sleep well with your new roommate,” I say a moment before ending the call.

For the first time since I met the smug son of a bitch, I’m grateful for Ryker’s interruption.

I won’t be able to dodge my brother’s questions forever, but for now I can pretend that I hate Chloe and I’m only doing this for Ronan.

Even if it’s a lie.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

DAMON

THEN

ELEVEN YEARS AGO

For years we’ve watched our mother fade away before our eyes, and yet it

still came as a shock when we woke up a few days ago to the news that she was dead.

She’s been barely living for years, a shell of the woman she once was, and the night she begged my father to kill her will live in the back of my mind for the rest of my life.

It shouldn’t be a surprise that eventually she stopped asking and took matters into her own hands.

But that doesn’t make it any easier on Ronan and me as we trail after the coffin in the cemetery every member of our family is buried in.

Funerals are a normal part of Mafia life, and this is far from the first one I’ve been to, but this is different.

This is my mother. The woman who raised me. The one who taught me how to tie my shoes and how to be kind to those around me.

She was everything that was good in our lives, and now she’s gone.

Dad hasn’t said a word to us since he found her, instead sending Neil to deliver the news that she was gone.

Mostly he’s been locked up in his office chasing the bottom of every bottle of liquor in the house, but on the odd occasions he steps out, he’s on a fresh rampage about finding the man responsible for his wife’s death.

Even after all these years, he can’t let Kingston go. Despite the vast resources of the Lombardi family and our allies, we haven’t caught a lead in well over a year, and I’m starting to think maybe he’s dead too.

But that won’t satisfy my father.

Only his enemies’ blood on his hands will do that, and even then it might not be enough.

A sniffle catches my attention, and I glance over to find Ronan has his arm around Chloe, who looks just as distraught as my brother. They were always close, even after the accident. At least once a week, I would walk past the sitting room and find Chloe reading to my mother.

There was so much the accident took from her, but her vision was one of the things she struggled with most, and Chloe tried to make it easier for her where she could.

My chest tightens when I notice her tears. She’s been so strong for Ronan the last few days, but that strength is beginning to run out.

The reality of losing someone she thought of as a second mother is finally setting in, and my fingers twitch to touch her, to comfort her the same way she has been my brother.

And me, if I’m honest.

Apart from a quiet “sorry for your loss,” Chloe hasn’t said a single word to me since Mom died, but her actions have been far louder.

An extra breakfast sandwich left on the table each morning just moments before I walk in. My favorite snacks were sitting on my bed when I came home from the funeral home after making arrangements. And then there are the well-timed calls from security each time Dad seeks me out to berate me for whatever story he’s concocted in his alcohol-laden mind.

Her thoughtful gestures make me feel like an even bigger piece of shit than normal, but now more than ever, I have to keep her at arm’s length.

The scrutiny I’m under is only going to intensify now that Mom’s gone and my father’s weakness is on display for the world.

I tear my eyes off my brother and the girl I can never allow myself to want, turning my attention back to the procession in front of us.

You’d think as her sons we would be walking beside our father, but you’d be wrong, because in the Lombardi family your position is everything, and future boss and underboss ranks far lower than most would expect.

But I don’t mind it. It means we’re free to grieve with fewer eyes on us.

We reach the burial plot at the center of the cemetery, each of the headstones around us belonging to a Lombardi, while the empty ones are reserved for those of us still breathing.

I don’t even want to be buried. Couldn’t think of a single thing worse than my body decomposing with worms and bugs and shit, but it’s just another thing I have no say over.

Stepping up beside my brother, I fight to keep my eyes forward and off the two of them. I’ve conditioned myself to only looking at Chloe when absolutely necessary, but I’m struggling to hold on to my composure as grief tears through my chest.

A small hand slips into mine, and I have no choice but to glance down into sad green eyes.

She’s between us now, Ronan’s arm wrapped around her waist as she clutches my hand like she’s afraid I’ll pull away, and on any other day her fears would be realized.

But I don’t have the strength today.

Not while I watch the casket lower into the ground.

Not when my father stoically throws a rose onto the top.

And not even when we each follow his lead.

No. I hold on to Chloe’s hand like it’s a lifeline.

Because just for today I allow it to be just that.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

RYKER

NOW

The first three properties we hit are a bust, but I expected that.

Kingston Beaumont can be accused of being a lot of things, but stupid is not one of them.

There’s a reason he was able to dodge the Lombardis for so many years, and it’s because he’s always three steps ahead.

Usually I admire him for it, but today it’s annoying as hell.

Perhaps if the motherfucker would just let me speak to Chloe to make sure she’s okay, I wouldn’t be climbing out of my skin with the need to find her, but he won’t, and therefore I am.

It doesn’t help that I’m stuck with a lost puppy.

Ronan hasn’t stopped moping since she was taken, and I’m starting to remember why I’ve spent much of my adult life alone.

Because human emotions are annoying as hell, and I’ll take the company of my victims any day.

Apart from my siren.

Not for one second did I find her company irritating.

If anything, I craved it.

While playing the role of her bodyguard, I would use any excuse to be close to her, and those days that I couldn’t find one were long and boring.

How did I ever think I’d be able to stay away from her when the pull between us was so strong from day one?

I should have walked out the door the second I saw her and felt something for the first time in my life.

Ronan curses from the other side of the aisle. The jet has certainly come in handy this past week. I would hate to think how quickly I would have killed my traveling companion if we’d been stuck in cars for eight-plus hours a day, especially considering how long it’s been since I satisfied the demon inside me.

He’s desperate for a kill, desperate to end the life of an oxygen thief.

But it can wait until we find Chloe.

Right now she’s all that matters.

“What’s wrong with you?”

His green eyes lift to mine, annoyance staring back at me. “I haven’t heard from Damon for a few days, and he’s not answering my calls.”

I sigh. Just the reminder of his brother makes my skin itch. He’s the one my girl is afraid of. Seeing Ronan was difficult for her because of their history, but Damon hurt her, and in my books that’s enough reason for him to die.

To be fair, that bar isn’t very high right now. The guy that cut me off on the highway on the way back to the airfield also made the list, but Damon always would, regardless of how long it had been since my last kill.

“I’m sure it’s difficult weaving a web of lies when your father is the most paranoid fuck on earth.”

I’ve never had the displeasure of meeting Salvatore Lombardi, but his reputation precedes him. Ever since his wife’s accident, he’s been convinced there’s a constant plot to tear down his empire, and he’s lost his mind because of it.

He changes phone numbers every week, has a constant armed guard around him on the increasingly rare occasions he leaves his fortress, and despite the family’s tradition to relinquish the throne when his oldest son turned twenty-one, he’s yet to do so.

Ronan nods and taps something out on his burner. “That’s what I’m worried about. Maybe if we could just⁠—”

“We are not going back to Miami.”

“But—”

“No,” I snap. “Do you want to die? Because that’s what will happen if we step foot back on Lombardi territory. It doesn’t matter how good a lie your brother is spinning, there will be doubt within your father’s inner circle. There’s only so long they’re going to believe you allowed yourself to be kidnapped by an old man, and you do not want to be in Florida when they start to put the pieces together.”

He rubs a hand down his face and drops back against the seat. “He’s my brother.”

“Yep. And he’s been training to take over the family for well over a decade. He’s not an idiot, and I’m sure as hell he can take care of himself.”

Defending Damon has my skin crawling, but if it keeps Ronan away from the compound, that’s all that matters.

If the way she clung to him when they arrived at the medical center is any indication, Chloe would never forgive me for getting him killed, and as hard a pill as that is to swallow, I’m not willing to do anything to upset my girl.

“Where are we heading next?” He drops the phone on the table in front of him.

“Kingston has a place in Maryland that he doesn’t think I know about, so it would be a good place to hide Chloe.”

“How many more places after that?”

“Four.”

“And if they’re not at any of them?”

I’m quiet for a beat, unsure how to reply to him when I don’t have an answer. At least not a good one.

Because the truth is, I’m not sure what we’re going to do if we run out of places to check.

We can’t spend the rest of our lives chasing a ghost, but in the same breath, I won’t be able to live until my siren is back in my arms where she belongs.

“I don’t know,” I tell him truthfully. There’s no way to sugarcoat it, and it doesn’t do either of us any good to do that.

“How do we know he didn’t just move her to the first place we tried?”

“I left some cameras around just in case. There’s been no movement at any of the properties we’ve been to so far.”

“And you’re sure he won’t hurt her?”

“If there’s one thing I’m absolutely certain of, it’s that Kingston would sooner cut off his own hands than hurt Chloe.”

Which is truly the only reason I haven’t lost my fucking mind with worry.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHLOE

THEN

TEN YEARS AGO

There were moments in the cellar where I thought I’d never know comfort again.

The constant switch between numbness and agony became my new normal, and the memory of a body without pain faded with each minute that ticked by.

Which is why I burst into tears the second Kingston places me down on a bed that is almost too soft.

“Do you want to take a shower before the doctor gets here?” he asks, crouching in front of me so our eyes are level.

I nod, swiping away tears with my good hand. I need to wash away the blood and filth caked on every inch of my skin.

“Okay. I’m going to get it started, and then I’ll come back for you. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

He pushes to his feet and steps into one of the two rooms directly across from me, which I assume are the bathroom and closet.

I didn’t have much of a chance to look at the penthouse as he carried me through it, but from what I did see, it’s beautiful.

Everything I saw was dark charcoal and black, a combination that should be too dark, but it somehow worked with the accents of lighter woods throughout.

Pressing my eyes closed, I try to muster the energy to pull the oversized sweater off, but I’m depleted. If my choices were to stand unassisted or die, I’m almost certain I’d be killed on the spot, because every muscle in my body feels detached right now.

It’s a strange feeling, and the more I think about it, the more uncomfortable I become.

Kingston appears in front of me, worry etched into his dark brows.

He lifts me into his arms just like every time I’ve needed to move since he came for me, but this time I allow myself to enjoy the comfort his embrace offers.

The bathroom is the same as the rest of the apartment, but with just the under-counter lighting illuminating the space, it’s the perfect moody paradise.

There’s a huge tub on our left that I long to soak in, but I haven’t had time to do any pregnancy research, and I don’t know if it’s safe.

I didn’t go through the hell to get us out of that nightmare just to accidentally do something to hurt the little life growing inside me.

We reach the edge of the steaming shower, but I’m not ready to leave Kingston’s warmth yet. Logically I realize the shower will be hot enough to replace that of his arms, but nothing about what I’m feeling is logical right now.

“Can you stand?” he asks roughly.

“I don’t think so.”

He drags in an unsteady breath. “Okay, let me find a chair for you.”

I try to remember if this is how thoughtful Kingston always was, but we spent such short bursts of time together over the years, I barely have any real memories of him.

He may have been my father’s best friend, but he was never an active part of our lives.

Kingston moves to place me down on the counter, but I can’t bring myself to let go.

“Mama, I need to put you down for a second.”

“Help me,” I whisper.

He presses his eyes closed, dragging in a deep breath before meeting my gaze again. “I’m trying, Mama. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

Fresh tears escape the corners of my eyes, but now they’re from frustration. I need him to stay. I need him to help me. So why can’t I voice what I need?

His eyes lock on the tears, and if I weren’t so completely broken inside, I’d probably find his reaction amusing. Panic flashes through the deep brown pools, and his grip on me tightens.

“Tell me what you need, Chloe,” he pleads, and I truly believe I could ask for anything in the world right now and he’d find a way to make it happen. As if my comfort is the only thing that matters to him.

“I don’t think I can do it alone,” I murmur, the words so quiet he wouldn’t hear them if it weren’t for how close he’s holding me.

His body stills for a moment. To his credit, he only takes a handful of seconds to recover, and before I get the chance to say another word, he’s carefully tugging the oversized sweater over my head with the arm not cradling me against his chest.

Next goes the torn nightgown that has long lost its usual baby-blue coloring, and the second it’s gone, I feel infinitely better, even I’m almost completely naked in front of someone I barely know.

Kingston’s eyes don’t dip as he toes off his shoes and steps us into the shower, not bothering to strip out of his suit.

The hot water is heavenly on my aching body, and I allow my eyes to drift closed.

Despite the humidity in the cellar, there was a time I thought I’d never feel warmth again. Not this kind at least. The warmth that comes with being safe and comfortable.

I was so sure I was going to die down there, I’m not sure I know how to live after escaping.

A stuttered sob tears from my chest as the gravity of everything I’ve survived finally hits home.

I’m alone in the world.

My parents are gone.

I’ll never see Ronan again.

And worst of all, I have no way of providing for this baby.

Every hope and dream I had is gone.

I’ll spend the rest of my life running. It will never be safe for me to let anyone in.

For the first time in my life, I’m completely alone, and that reality hurts almost as much as the physical and psychological torture I’ve survived.

When I give birth in nine months, I’ll be by myself. Terrified.

I’ll be alone for every single milestone they have, their first steps, their first day of school, their first everything.

Kingston’s hold on me tightens, and I allow the water hitting the tiles and his rhythmic heartbeat to pull my mind from the darkest recesses of itself.

There will be plenty of time to dwell on my bleak future, but for just a little while, I accept the comfort being offered to me.

Because soon, I’ll be on my own, and who knows when anyone will offer it again.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

RONAN

NOW

It’s been a week since I heard from Damon.

Each day that passes has my need to go back to Miami growing, but Ryker’s right.

Don’t tell him I said that.

The story my brother has spun is shaky at best, and all my showing up without Ralph or Chloe is going to prove is that it was all a big lie, which would promptly get us both killed.

It doesn’t help that we’re no closer to finding Chloe than we were when we started.

Something that has become obvious this week is that we were never close to tracking down Kingston. Because not only did we never come across any of these houses during my years trying to find him, but he’s clearly done very well for himself in that time while staying under the radar.

I’d probably find it more impressive if it weren’t for the fact he killed my mother and is currently holding the woman I love against her will.

Ryker eyes me from the driver’s seat. We’re on our way back to the jet after yet another bust, and the tension between us is getting worse by the second.

We’ve managed to keep our hatred of one another at bay, but we’re barreling toward an argument that will probably end with one of us dead.

I’d like to think it would be him, but there’s a dark side of Ryker that keeps peeking out. Only ever for a moment, but it’s clear he wouldn’t hesitate to kill me.

If I’m honest, I think the only reason he hasn’t done it already is from fear of pissing Chloe off, and I’d find that amusing as hell if he weren’t infatuated with my woman.

“Still no word from Damon?”

“Nope.”

He sighs and reaches for his phone on the dash. Without taking his eyes off the road, he taps out a series of messages, not bothering to check he didn’t make any typos.

I want to ask who he’s messaging, but it’s none of my business. We’re not friends. We’re not even acquaintances. We’re enemies, and our truce is only good for as long as it takes to find Chloe.

As soon as we’re sure she’s safe, all bets are off.

“Kingston has a guy inside the Lombardi compound.”

“He what?” I turn to face him.

He smirks. “You think he stayed out of your father’s clutches by sheer luck all those years?”

I open my mouth to reply but snap it shut again, because that makes a lot of sense. Every time we got a lead, he was long gone by the time we got there.

There was a rat in the organization for decades, and we never even knew.

“Don’t look so surprised. Every crime family has them. It comes with the territory.”

I don’t bother telling him the reason I’m shocked is because he was right when he called my father paranoid the other day, to the point he tracks every single phone call his men make and routinely does spot checks of their residences to make sure they don’t have any burners. I assumed it was impossible to get past all his tests.

Clearly not.

His phone buzzes, and his eyes drop from the road for a beat as he reads whatever the text says.

Ryker’s expression doesn’t change, but tension bleeds into his shoulders.

He curses, taps out a response, and drops the phone into the center console with a loud clunk.

“Is something wrong?” I ask when his hands tighten around the steering wheel.

He doesn’t respond right away, instead checking the rearview mirror to avoid looking my way.

I’m tempted to keep badgering him, but once again, I’m quite aware of how close I come to death every time I annoy him, and I’d rather not die before I see Chloe again.

We pull back into the private airfield where the jet is waiting and park the car in the same place we found it.

Ryker climbs out, still ignoring my question, and strides toward the plane with his hands fisted at his sides.

He really didn’t like whatever was in that text message.

I trail after him and barely make it to the top of the stairs before his words reach me.

“Change the flight plan. We need to go to Miami.”

My brows just about hit my hairline, but if the way his jaw clicks in annoyance is anything to go by, I’m better off waiting for an explanation rather than asking more questions.

The pilot looks like he’s about to argue but must see the same monster I’ve noticed in him and snaps his mouth shut with a quick nod.

Ryker takes what has become his usual seat, and I drop into mine across the aisle. Close enough that we can talk but not close enough that our breathing is going to annoy one another.

I really fucking dislike this guy, and not just because I’ve watched him fuck my girl.

He brushes his tattooed fingers over his jaw while his other hand toys absentmindedly with his ripped jeans.

“Some of your father’s men have evidence you and Chloe weren’t taken by Ralph, and there is speculation that Damon is involved.”

“Fuck.”

This is all my fault.

Everything that has transpired over the last two weeks could have been avoided if my jealousy hadn’t flared at seeing Chloe with Ryker.

Damon wouldn’t have been able to get her without my help, and he would have had an even harder time if I’d actively blocked him the way I should have.

Everything is falling apart all because I couldn’t accept that the woman I once loved could love someone else.

I drop my head into my hands as my chest tightens to the point of pain.

Damon’s worked his entire life to take over the Lombardi family. He’s sacrificed everything to make it a reality, and now it’s going to be torn from him because of me.

“If anyone should be having a pity party right now, it’s me for being stuck with two assholes I can’t stand.”

I open my mouth to snap back at him but instead turn to face the window.

I just hope we’re not too late.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHLOE

NOW

Contrary to what I expected, Kingston’s been giving me space to process, but I feel his eyes on me everywhere I go in the house.

I haven’t found them yet, but I suspect there are cameras in every room, something I’ve been very conscious of while changing in the room I woke up in.

In addition to the rooms that were clearly decorated with me in mind, I’ve also discovered a closet full of clothes in my size and a library full of my favorite books.

If it weren’t for the fact that King kidnapped me and was refusing to let me speak to anyone other than him, I’d find it sweet how thoughtful he’d been while creating what he expected to be our home.

But alas, he’s taken all my choices away, and once again I’m being held against my will.

If the regular meals that appear in the kitchen and the fact that the house is always spotless are anything to go by, there’s staff around here somewhere, but I’m yet to see them.

Whether that’s a coincidence or not remains to be seen, but I doubt it is.

Everything Kingston does has a purpose.

I just wish I understood what he gets out of forcing me to marry him.

There has to be something in it for him, because otherwise this pretty life he’s offering makes no sense, and that’s what has kept me up for the last few nights.

Along with the loneliness.

I thought I knew what it meant to be lonely. I’ve spent the last decade effectively on my own, but this is different.

There was always human interaction. There was Camilla, and then there was the other staff. Even when I was in the cellar at the Lombardi compound, Ronan was coming to see me regularly.

If there’s anything the last few days have taught me, it’s that I don’t enjoy my own company.

I can’t bring myself to go to bed.

At least in the library I can distract myself with other worlds, but the second I slip between the sheets, I’m uniquely aware of just how alone I am.

Is this what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life?

The thought sends a shiver down my spine as I fight off another yawn.

Curling up on the comfortable reading chair beneath the window, I rest my head on the pillow and try to focus on the words, but when they start to blur together, I allow my eyes to close.

I’ll just rest for a minute, I tell myself as another yawn slips free.

Sometime later, strong hands slip beneath me, lifting me from my nest of a chair before carrying me up the stairs.

I allow myself to lean into his embrace, because all the reasons I shouldn’t don’t seem as important while I’m half asleep.

His lips press to my temple, and my chest tightens at the gentle gesture.

The way he handles me is so at odds with who he is outside these walls, and that’s just one of the many reasons Kingston Beaumont is an enigma.

He pauses at the top of the stairs before turning in the opposite direction of my bedroom, but rather than cracking an eye open to see where we’re going, I nuzzle into the place beneath his chin and enjoy not being alone, no matter how short-lived it may be.

He carefully rearranges me in his arms to open a door, and when we step into the room, I know without having to open my eyes that we’re in his bedroom.

In the weeks we spent together a decade ago, I found comfort in his scent. The bourbon and vanilla shampoo I loved back then still clings to him and this room.

Without pausing, he steps forward, never bothering to flick on the lights, and pushes the sheets back without jostling me.

When he bends to put me down, I’m tempted to cling to him. After days of being by myself, I’m desperate to hold on to this moment for as long as I can, but I let him slip me between the sheets and tug the thick blanket over me.

But instead of leaving like I expect him to, there’s a series of rustling before the bed dips beside me and a warm body wraps around me protectively.

“Why’d you bring me in here?” I whisper.

“Because this is where you belong, Mama.” He presses a soft kiss to the top of my head.

“In your bed?”

“By my side.”

There’s a part of me that’s desperate to argue, to tell him I can’t be his. But the idea of being someone’s entire world again is a craving I can’t say no to.

Would it be so bad to say yes to what he’s offering?

But even as I think it, my heart cracks at the idea of never seeing them again.

The lethal bodyguard who treated me with such gentleness.

The boy I loved my whole life.

And the man that claims to hate me but kissed me like I was the air he needed to breathe.

There’s a part of me that knows it’s wrong, selfish even, to want four men, but then I think about Camilla and her guys. The way she shines when she’s surrounded by them.

And I long for that, even though I’ll never have it.

The difference between my situation and Camilla’s is that her guys were a family before she came into the picture, and mine hate each other with everything they are.

It could never work, and that’s the thought that has tears rolling down my cheeks as Kingston’s breathing evens out behind me.

How can I possibly marry Kingston when my heart will always be divided?

CHAPTER NINETEEN

DAMON

NOW

Blood usually eases the pressure in my mind.

That probably makes me a sociopath, but hey, I’ve been called worse.

I’ve made a point of staying out of the compound as much as possible the last few days because the more complicated the lie becomes, the harder it is to keep it going.

Everyone is beginning to draw their own conclusions, and I can’t protect Ronan anymore, no matter how much I want to.

It’s instinctual to take care of your family, especially your siblings, but there’s only so much I can do, and as long as he doesn’t come back to Miami, he should be safe.

Even as the thought crosses my mind, I realize it’s wishful thinking.

Our father has spent decades hunting a man because he was driving when his wife was hurt. I can’t see him getting over his son betraying the family to protect someone he views as a traitor.

The tiles turn red the second I step into the shower. An out-of-town gang member took it upon himself to try to steal a shipment of cocaine before our guys could get it off the ship.

Safe to say he didn’t live to gloat to his bosses.

I made sure of it.

But it didn’t take the edge off the way I hoped it would.

I’m just as agitated as I was before I left the compound last night, and I can’t keep making excuses to not be here.

At some point I need to face up to the fact my own brother is now the enemy.

As unnatural as it feels, it’s a reality I need to learn to live with.

Making quick work of washing the blood away, I shut off the water and move through the motions of getting ready for the day.

It’s been days since I’ve slept, but it’s a pointless endeavor I’ve officially given up on.

Just like a decade ago, thoughts of Chloe’s pain haunts me every time I close my eyes, and eventually my body will need rest badly enough that it will crash without the possibility of nightmares.

Until that time comes, I need to keep busy.

Stepping into the hall, I glance both ways before heading toward my father’s office on the ground floor to update him on my night.

I can’t fucking wait for the day I don’t answer to anyone and I’m calling the shots.

But until that day comes, I have to play by the rules.

Voices at the other end of the hallway catch my attention, and I step into an empty room to listen.

I want to say I’m not just being nosy and will walk away if they’re talking about something important, but that’s a lie.

I’ve been walking a fine line of deceit this past week, and if my father’s men are catching on to that, I need to be aware and get the fuck out of here.

“There’s no evidence that Ralph had any plans to leave the family,” Robert says. He’s one of my father’s oldest friends and someone he trusts implicitly.

“And yet he’s not here,” Dad replies.

There’s a beat of silence before another voice fills the void. Perry. Ralph’s best friend. “He wouldn’t do this, boss. He’s loyal to a fault to this organization.”

“You’ve seen the video. He went into the cell and turned the cameras off, and the next thing you know, the traitor and my son are gone. That’s pretty fucking damning.”

My hands fist at my sides at the jab. Chloe is a lot of things, but she’s not a traitor. It remains to be seen whether her parents were, but she was too young back then, and even if she and Kingston have been in contact over the years, she’s had no reason to be loyal to us.

We drove her to run, to hide, and she had to do whatever was necessary to survive. I can’t fault her for that.

“I think it’s time we consider the possibility Ronan took the girl,” Perry says.

“That’s not possible.”

“Isn’t it? He’s always been weak when it comes to her. What makes you think he wouldn’t betray the family to save her?”

Another long pause makes my palms twitch with the need to do something, to defend my brother even though they’re right on the money. It was only a matter of time before they worked it out. Now I just have to hope they don’t catch on to my involvement.

I step out from my hiding place and close the distance to my father’s office in a few long strides.

Not bothering to knock on the open door, I step over the threshold and shove my hands into my pockets.

“Son,” Dad greets me, barely sparing me a glance.

“The piece of shit that thought he could steal from us is dead,” I tell him with a satisfied smirk.

“Good.” He nods, turning his attention to the laptop in front of him, giving me a chance to acknowledge Perry and Robert.

They stare me down, and I mentally add them to the list of assholes to kill when I finally take the throne. I haven’t given up everything I ever wanted to have the likes of them look down on me.

I will be the next leader of the Lombardi family, and anyone who stands in my way will meet their maker before they have the chance to cause any trouble.

“You were running point the night your brother went missing, were you not?” Dad asks without bothering to look up at me.

“I was.”

“The perimeter alarms were repeatedly triggered by animals, but the most recent update you ordered should have stopped that kind of thing from happening, correct?”

Keeping my expression passive, I give a short nod. “The security specialist advised small animals such as squirrels and raccoons would no longer trip the sensors, but they did say larger ones could still be mistaken for a human.”

“There aren’t that many large critters around these parts,” Perry points out, but I shrug in reply.

“You said the De Marco girl was threatening to breach the compound. Is there a chance Ralph made a deal with her to deliver Chloe?”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Perry snaps.

“You never know what those closest to you are capable of,” my father points out. “I never thought Beaumont was capable of killing my wife, but I was wrong about that, wasn’t I?”

He looks like he wants to argue, but he hasn’t lasted this long in this family without knowing how to pick his battles.

“Would you like me to contact Camilla and get a gauge whether Chloe has been returned to them?”

“That still wouldn’t explain where Ronan is,” Robert points out.

“Perhaps that was her revenge for us taking Chloe?” I shrug. It’s plausible enough, and if I played my cards right, I may be able to bring Ronan home.

If he even wants to come home.

The thought makes my chest ache. The idea of having anyone other than my brother as my number two turns my stomach, but he has to make his own choices, and if he decides to stay with Chloe, I can’t fault him for it.

If only one of us can choose our path, I won’t begrudge him happiness.

“Contact De Marco and see if you can get a feel for her part in this.”

“I’m on it.”

I leave the office without another word.

It’s been a while since I checked in with Ronan, and it’s time I got an answer once and for all whether he wants back in the fold.

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHLOE

NOW

Warmth surrounds me as consciousness returns.

It takes a while to remember where I am and who has their arm wrapped around me, but the moment I do, my chest tightens.

The cold light of day just reminds me why I can’t give in to Kingston, no matter how badly I might want to.

His arm flexes around my middle, tugging me tight against his bare chest and…

Is that his cock?

The thick hardness pressed against my ass makes my stomach flutter with need. How did I go ten years without the touch of a man, and in the span of just a few weeks I’ve become all too aware of my own needs?

His hips shift, grinding against me in slow, deliberate motions that tell me he’s awake.

A low groan against the shell of my ear is all the confirmation I need that he knows I am too.

“You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined waking up with you in my arms, Mama,” he murmurs, tightening the arm around me until it’s impossible for me to escape him.

Not that the thought had even crossed my mind.

It should have, but it didn’t. Not when it feels so good to have someone hold me.

“Every morning I woke up alone was pure fucking torture, but I knew you’d be worth the wait. You’re worth every lonely second I’ve lived the last ten years.”

The confession makes my chest ache for him, but I can’t let him wear me down.

“King—” I start, but I’m cut off when his hand slips beneath my shirt, and his fingers find my aching nipples.

“Fuck, Chloe. Hearing my name on your lips is going to make me blow my load all over your perky ass.”

A moan slips free of its own accord, earning me a rough chuckle.

“This is how we’re going to start every day for the rest of our lives. Some days I’ll wake you up with my cock inside you, others with my mouth on your pretty little pussy. But every morning will start with an orgasm.”

Pressing my eyes closed, I try and fail to ward off the picture he’s painting of a life where I’m the most important thing in his world.

“Do you like the sound of that, Chloe? Should we get started now? I can slip my fingers into your panties and get you off right now. I’m certain you’re soaking for me.”

I am, but I’m not going to tell him that. Not when I have to put a stop to this before it can spiral out of control.

When I don’t reply immediately, the hand on my breasts moves south, easily slipping into my stretchy lounge pants and panties.

Deft fingers find my aching clit, and my body jerks at the contact.

“Jesus, Chloe,” Kingston groans, grinding his hips against my ass with renewed fervor. “You’re aching for me, aren’t you, baby girl?”

I shake my head, biting down on my bottom lip to stop myself from begging for more.

His fingers disappear for a moment, and I’m as relieved as I am disappointed. At least until they slap down on my aching pussy, tearing a scream from my throat.

It’s not as painful as it is shocking, but he does it two more times before returning to lazily rubbing my now over-sensitive clit.

“I don’t like when you lie to me, Chloe.”

“I’m not lying,” I whisper, but my hips move with his ministrations, chasing the pleasure he’s offering.

“Really?” he challenges. “Because you’re fucking gushing for me, Mama. You telling me you’re not desperate for me to fill your aching hole?”

I press my eyes closed, pleading with my body not to react to his filthy words, but it’s no use. The throbbing in my core is becoming more intense by the second. How much longer can I deny that I want everything he’s offering?

His fingers resume their slow torment, dragging a soft moan from my throat against my will. I don’t want to want this, but I do, and just like when Ryker touched me, I can’t find it in me to say no, to deny what my body so obviously craves.

“There’s my good girl.” He trails kisses along my shoulder.

A shiver of pure need vibrates through my body, earning me a soft chuckle.

“Oh, you like being praised, baby girl?” he muses. “Of course you do. You’re fucking perfect.”

I want to tell him I’m not, not even close, but hearing those words heals something inside my soul, the part of me that has spent the last decade feeling like I was never enough for him. For anyone.

Making life-altering decisions based on loneliness seems like a bad idea, but everything he’s offering has hope blossoming in my chest.

Hope for more.

Kingston’s fingers move in tandem over my clit and nipple, sending shockwaves of pleasure through my entire body.

He’s too fucking good at that.

“You’re getting close, aren’t you, Mama?”

“Yes,” I whine. “Please.”

His hips jut forward, a deep rumbling groan brushing my ear. “Jesus, Chloe. Hearing you beg will be the end of me.”

Kingston continues his slow but firm ministrations, driving me right to the edge, but right as I’m about to fall into what I’m sure was going to be one of the best orgasms of my life, his fingers disappear, leaving me desperate and wanting.

“What the fuck?” I snap, looking over my shoulder as King rolls to the edge of the bed and stands, his boxers doing little to conceal that hard cock jutting out in front of him proudly.

I can’t help but drag my gaze over his bare chest, taking in every rigid line and lean muscle. The smattering of dark hair across his chest distracts me as I pull my eyes to his amused smirk.

“Until such time as you agree to marry me, you will not be coming.”

“That’s not fair!”

He shrugs.

“You know I can just get myself off, right?”

He nods slowly, his jaw tightening the only sign of his irritation. “You could try.”

I open my mouth to reply, to argue, but he turns on his heel and moves into the bathroom before I get the chance.

What the fuck just happened?

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHLOE

NOW

When Kingston steps out of the bathroom, freshly showered and wrapped in nothing but a towel, I’m still sitting in the middle of his bed.

I should have gone back to my room, if for no other reason than because he’s blackmailing me into marrying him with orgasms, but I’m frozen in place.

I’m afraid that if I leave this room, he’ll disappear for another three days and the loneliness will creep back in.

“I thought you’d have gone,” he admits, running his hand through damp hair.

“Why do you want me to marry you?”

His brow quirks up, but he doesn’t reply immediately. Instead, he steps into his closet and returns a moment later with sweatpants and a black Henley in tow.

Dropping the clothes on the end of the bed, he tugs the towel from around his waist, discarding it in the hamper by the closet, but I’m far too distracted by his very hard cock.

Kingston takes his time tugging on his sweatpants, not bothering with underwear, before pulling the Henley over his head.

This man has no right looking like that.

Once he’s dressed with a satisfied smirk, he perches on the edge of the bed and pats the place beside him.

Hesitantly I crawl across the mattress, but as soon as I’m within reach, he tugs me into his lap.

His arms band around me, making it impossible to escape. Not that I would even if I could.

I need answers too badly, and the only way I’m getting them is straight from the source.

“You know me and Caroline grew up in foster care?” he asks, and I nod in answer. After the accident, I was the only person she could speak to about her best friend because the mere mention of Kingston sent anyone close to the Lombardis into a tailspin. “I was given up by my parents when I was seven. I was too much, too boisterous for two people in their later years, and one day they decided to drop me off at a firehouse and never look back. The police looked for them, but they were long gone by the time they got a patrol to our house.”

My heart aches for him. For a little boy who didn’t understand why the people who should have loved him most would abandon him.

But isn’t that the same thing he did to me? Leaving me in the middle of the night grieving and broken?

“I bounced around foster care for a while. Some homes were good, others weren’t so good. But I never allowed myself to get attached. Why would I when they were bound to leave me the same way my parents did?”

Kingston shakes his head, his arms holding me a little tighter, as if my weight across his lap is all that keeps him in this moment with me.

“It wasn’t until I was ten that I found my way to the group home. In some ways it was better than the foster homes because there was far more scrutiny on them. But they were cold and lonely, and I found myself missing my parents more and more.

“Until Caroline came. She was a few years older than me, but from the moment she sat down next to me at dinner one night, we were inseparable. Kindred spirits, as they say. She was like a sister to me, and she protected me just like an older sibling would, but eventually she aged out of the system.

“She met Salvatore not long after she turned eighteen, and she fell head over heels for him. He’s a lot of things, but he was always a good husband to her. It’s just about his only redeeming feature, seeing as he was never a very good father to those boys.

“By the time I aged out, Caroline was pregnant with Damon, and Salvatore took me under his wing, showing me the ropes of a business I wanted no part in. But I wanted to be close to Caroline, to the only family I really had.

“It was never my dream to be a part of a Mafia family, and I wrestled with that for years. It’s why I wasn’t around a lot at the compound. I chose to take the jobs no one else wanted to do outside the walls of the Lombardi mansion. The stakeouts, the recon, that kind of thing.”

“I don’t know what any of this has to do with why you want to marry me,” I say quietly. Thinking of Kingston alone all those years is making my chest ache for him, and if I allow my walls to drop, I might give in to his ludicrous demands.

He smirks, pressing a gentle kiss to my temple. “I’m getting there, Mama. I spent my whole life alone. Sometimes by choice, and others not…until you called me the night you escaped. Those weeks we spent together were the first time since Caroline that I felt that pull to another human. But it was so different. Where she was like a sister to me, you were…everything. The second I lifted you into my arms in that gas station, you were my world. I fought it at first. You were so young, so vulnerable. You didn’t need me taking advantage of you, and you needed time to heal.”

“You left me,” I whisper, not trusting my voice not to break under the pressure of the words.

He sucks in a breath, his eyes pressing closed for a beat before returning to mine. “I did. I promised your father that if anything ever happened to him that I would make sure you were safe, and if you’d stayed with me back then, you wouldn’t have been. There would have been a target on your back, and that was unacceptable. So I called an old friend.”

“John De Marco,” I provide.

He nods. “John had provided support early on in Hawk Security, and we formed a friendship of sorts. We weren’t close, partially because he was juggling running one of the biggest crime families in New York, being a father, and looking after his sick wife, and partially because I refused to let anyone close after the accident. I called to offer my condolences when his wife passed while you were recovering from surgery, and I mentioned needing to find somewhere safe for you until I could make my life safe enough for you. You and Camilla were the perfect fit, and it gave me a few years to get things prepared.

“Unfortunately it took longer than I had hoped to get the business to a point where I wouldn’t need to travel as often and where you would be safe. Which brings us to now.”

Kingston brushes his fingers down my cheek, his touch soft and reverent as he stares down at me with emotions I must be imagining.

“Leaving you that morning was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, Chloe. Harder than when my parents abandoned me. Harder than saying goodbye to Caroline. Harder than anything I can imagine. But I would do anything to keep you safe, and that was what I’ve reminded myself of every single day of the last ten years.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. It’s on the tip of my tongue to give in, to allow myself to be someone’s whole world again. But I don’t know Kingston, not anymore at least, and I refuse to marry someone that would blackmail me into marriage.

“I’m not marrying you, King,” I murmur. “And you shouldn’t want me to say yes just because you’re not giving me a choice.”

I push against his hold, and he lets me go easily, my chest aching with every step I take away from him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

RYKER

NOW

Another fucking Lombardi.

Perfect.

As if the last week hasn’t been bad enough with Ronan, now I have to save Damon’s ass?

I’m not even convinced Chloe likes this one. Every interaction I’ve seen between the two of them has been hostile at best.

But as much as I would love to have one fewer asshole to compete with for Chloe’s heart, I can’t risk her resenting me for letting him die.

When it comes to Chloe, I take no risks.

Ronan’s phone buzzes when we’re an hour from landing at the same airfield we used before, and he just about drops the thing in his haste to answer it.

I’ve heard stories about Ronan Lombardi. He’s ruthless. Unfeeling. Unhinged when the mood strikes. But so far I’ve seen none of those things.

At first I thought it was because those were just stories I heard, probably spread by his father to make the family seem more formidable. But then I realized what it was and why I couldn’t understand him.

The people he cares about make him reckless, something that has never been a problem for me.

At least not until Chloe walked into my life.

Objectively I care about my mom and sisters, and I’ve distanced myself from them over the years in order to keep them safe.

But Ronan would do anything to protect those close to him.

“Hello?” he rushes out, tapping the speaker button so I can hear the conversation from both sides.

“We might have a problem,” Damon says.

“We know. We’re on our way to Miami to get you now.”

There’s a pause. “How the hell do you know?”

“Kingston has a rat in the compound. Says some of the old-timers have been gathering evidence against you to present to Dad.”

“Fuck.”

“Do you still have a go bag in your car?”

“I can’t leave, Ronan.”

“You have to! If Dad finds out you helped me escape with Chloe, he’ll kill you.”

“He can try.”

Ronan runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “You’re not listening! They have evidence. It’s only a matter of time before they find a smoking gun. Don’t forget your first kill was our gardener for doing his fucking job. You think he won’t hesitate to kill you just because you’re his son?”

He’s quiet for a beat, but he’s stubborn. If our limited interactions have taught me anything, it’s that he doesn’t like to be proven wrong or to be beaten, and leaving now would be admitting defeat, something I doubt Damon Lombardi has ever done.

There’s a loud knock and he curses. “Don’t bother coming here.”

He ends the call, and Ronan’s phone flies past my head, landing heavily against the side of the jet beside me. “He’s going to get himself killed.”

“That’s his prerogative. We’ll hang around Miami for a day or two while I plan our next move, and if he insists on staying, that’s his choice.”

He looks like he wants to argue, but instead he stalks toward the back of the plane where the bedroom is.

Finally, some peace and quiet.

The sooner we find Chloe, the sooner I’m free of all these damn Lombardis.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

KINGSTON

NOW

Iknew getting Chloe to agree to marry me would be an uphill battle, but I’m growing more and more impatient by the day.

When she walked out of my bedroom this morning telling me in no uncertain terms that she would not be marrying me, I was as impressed by her strength as I was irritated.

I’ve built an entire empire for her, a life where she can be safe and happy, and she can have anything her heart desires, and yet she still says no to me?

I drag my hand down my face and flick between camera feeds.

She’s been restless this morning, likely for the same reason I am, pacing from room to room, searching for something to occupy her mind.

I’m fortunate that my obsession with her is so strong I always have something to do when she’s in this house because there isn’t an inch of the place that isn’t covered in cameras.

There are a million things I should be doing, but after living without her for so many years, I can’t tear my eyes off the screen.

I had eyes on her as often as I could over the years, but unsurprisingly, John De Marco didn’t approve of me installing surveillance equipment throughout his home.

Chloe moves through her bedroom, pacing back and forth for a few minutes before stepping into the bathroom.

I flick to one of the most questionable feeds before I can talk myself out of it.

The part of me that wants to give her privacy wars with the part that can’t bear to have my eyes off her.

I watch as she strips out of the lounge set I had my hands on just hours ago, and I long to touch every inch of soft skin she uncovers.

Tearing my hands from her this morning was almost impossible, but it was necessary.

If she won’t agree to marry me on her own, I’m going to have to get creative.

As if she knows where the camera is, I only get a look at her back before she disappears behind the shower screen.

If I were a good man, this is the moment I would turn the feed off and get on with my day, but her silhouette among the steam is enough to keep my eyes glued to the screen.

Rearranging my hard cock, I thank my forethought for not bothering to change out of my sweatpants after Chloe stormed out of my bedroom.

Our bedroom.

She won’t be sleeping in the room she’s come to think of as hers for another night, and I’ll be waking her up at the edge of an orgasm I have no intentions of giving her until she agrees to marry me.

Is it fair?

Fuck no.

But I’ll do what I have to do to keep her.

Chloe will be my wife, and the sooner she accepts that, the sooner we can start our life together.

Soon she’ll see there’s no sense fighting fate.

Steam fills the bathroom, obstructing my view further, but I’m no less turned on by the show she doesn’t realize she’s putting on for me.

Her hands glide over her soft curves, her nipples peaked each time she steps out of the water for a moment, and this time when I rearrange my cock, I give it a rough squeeze to relieve some of the pressure building in my balls.

Not that it helps.

I have a feeling they won’t stop aching until I’m inside her pretty pussy.

Chloe’s hand ghosts down her body, pausing between her legs.

I lean closer to the screen, a chuckle climbing up the back of my throat.

Oh, she’s feeling bold this morning.

I flick the sound on, something I hadn’t bothered to do before, knowing I would hear little else than water hitting tiles.

A soft moan meets my ear, and I shove myself out of my seat.

I meant it when I said she wouldn’t be coming until she had my ring on her finger, and that includes at her own hand.

I close the distance between my office and her bedroom, stepping into the steamy bathroom without hesitation.

Stripping out of my clothes quietly, I can’t help but watch as her hand moves between her thighs, her silhouette almost as erotic as watching the show front on.

She hasn’t noticed me yet, and I can’t help but smirk at how she’s let her walls down since she came here.

As hard as she fights her need to give in to me, her body and mind trust me. They know she’s safe here, safe with me, and that’s already a win.

Once I’m naked, I step into the open end of the shower, not pausing until my body presses to hers and burning hot water falls against me.

Chloe lets out a little squeal of surprise as one of my hands covers hers between her legs, and the other wraps around her throat, holding her in place against me.

“King.” The word is almost lost in the beating of water against tiles.

“Are you being a bad girl, Mama?”

“No.”

“Really? Because I explicitly told you there would be no orgasms until you agreed to marry me, and yet here you are playing with what belongs to me with no ring on your finger.”

I move my fingers over hers, circling her swollen clit far too slowly to get her to the edge but enough to have her trembling against me.

“I know you’re aching for me, baby girl. Wouldn’t it be easier just to say yes?” I murmur against the shell of her ear.

I trail kisses along her exposed shoulder, tightening my grip on her throat to drive her closer to the edge, and I’m rewarded with a sharp intake of breath.

“Do you like being choked, Mama? I knew you were perfect for me, that you could handle my darker tastes.” Dragging my teeth along her soft skin, I nip at the place where her shoulder and throat meet, another soft gasp filling the shower as her hips jerk back against my cock.

I’m so fucking hard I can barely think past the need to sink into one of her holes.

But I waited a decade to have her. I can wait a little longer.

“King, please,” she whines, her hips shifting in time with our fingers.

“Will you marry me?”

She shakes her head, the wet strands falling grazing over my fingers.

“All you have to do is say yes, Chloe. Say yes and I’ll give you the whole fucking world and as many orgasms as you can handle.”

“I can’t,” she whispers.

“Then you clearly don’t need to come that badly, do you, baby girl?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHLOE

NOW

Strong fingers guide mine over my throbbing clit, and although it’s my own touch driving me closer to the edge, I lost control the second Kingston stepped into the shower.

Every few seconds he flexes the hand around my throat, making my core ache for release.

He knows what he’s doing. He’s making it almost impossible to refuse him.

But how can I marry a man who would manipulate me like this?

“I can’t, King,” I whimper. “I can’t marry you.”

“Of course you can, Chloe. I can have an officiant here by tonight. Our marriage license is in my desk. All you have to do is say yes.”

I open my mouth to reply but quickly snap it shut. How the fuck does he have a marriage license? Don’t we both have to sign something to get one of those?

“I can’t marry you because I have feelings for someone else…multiple someone else’s actually,” I admit, even though the words hurt on the way out.

No matter how hard I fight my need for them, I can’t shake how my heart feels torn between each of them, and it would be unfair to Kingston to say vows of commitment when he’ll never have my whole heart.

No one will.

I’m destined to be torn, to ache for each of them until the end of time.

He doesn’t respond at first, and I start to think he’s not going to reply at all. He’s gone to such lengths to take me, to build a life around giving me everything he thought I needed. But the truth is, I’ll never have everything unless I have all of them.

Four men that would sooner kill each other than stand in the same room.

The hand around my throat drops and a surprised gasp escapes when my back hits cold tiles.

Kingston gathers both my hands in one of his, pinning them above my head, and I have no choice but to look up into dark eyes filled with fury.

“You’re mine,” he growls.

I should be scared. He has me pinned down, and I couldn’t escape even if I wanted to, but I know Kingston, and I know he would never hurt me. Not physically.

The same hands he’s holding me with are the ones that nursed me back to life all those years ago. They’re the ones that held my hand when I broke over and over again, mourning everything and everyone I had ever loved.

I shake my head, tears welling in my eyes as I swallow past the sob rising up the back of my throat. “I’m not, King. I can’t be.”

The words hurt as they fall from my lips. All I wanted when I was a kid was to get married and have a houseful of kids. But offering anyone part of my heart wouldn’t be fair.

Pain lances across his usually hard features, and guilt eats away at me, my need to make everyone else happy aching to give Kingston everything he’s asking for.

He stares down at me for long moments, eyes tracing every inch of my face like he’s committing it to memory before his hands drop away from my body.

Without a backward glance, he steps out of the shower, barely pausing for long enough to grab a towel before he’s gone.

Tears well in my eyes, my chest aching with unshed tears, and once again, I’m all alone.

I drop to my knees, the pain barely registering as my chest cracks open.

Kingston was offering me everything I’ve ever wanted, but how could I possibly accept when it means living without them?

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

DAMON

NOW

Ibarely manage to stash my burner beneath the mattress before Kyle and Robert burst into the room, their eyes bouncing off the empty walls.

As a teenager, I had trophies and posters littering the space, but those things stopped having meaning years ago, around the same time I realized all I had to look forward to was leading a crime family and spending the rest of my life with someone I loathe.

Mikayla backing out of our arranged marriage has always been a bone of contention with my father, but she said she couldn’t go through with it. Couldn’t commit to someone she didn’t love. I may not have been the one to call it off, but Dad has always blamed me.

“It’s polite to wait to be invited in before entering someone’s private space,” I point out, leaning back against my pillows and plastering a look of indifference across my face.

“Who were you talking to?” Robert asks, stepping farther into the room, making room for someone else to step in behind him.

My father.

“I’d watch your tone if you don’t want to find yourself hanging from the gates on my first day as boss,” I snap.

I’ve known for a long time that my father’s men would struggle to respect me, but the closer I come to taking the throne, the more desperate I am to clean house.

I could take out every single one of them and not lose a wink of sleep. Rebuilding would be a pain in the ass, but it would be worth it to know I could trust those around me.

“I’d like to know the answer,” Dad says, his voice even.

I sigh exasperatedly. “If you must know, it was one of De Marcos psychos. She’s going to call me back later today.”

“Don’t bother taking the call.” He steps forward, his hand resting on the piece in his waistband.

Before I can ask why, he gives Robert and Kyle a curt nod, and I barely have the chance to blink before they’re on me.

Why the fuck didn’t I stand as soon as these assholes stepped into the room?

Robert’s knee pins one of my arms down, twisting my shoulder uncomfortably while Kyle struggles to pin the other half of my body down.

They know if they give me the opportunity, I’ll snap their necks, regardless of whether they were just following their boss’s orders.

I won’t stand for disrespect.

Glancing over at my bedside table, I spot my own gun and curse myself for not having it on my body. Admittedly, if there’s one place in this compound I shouldn’t need a weapon, it’s in my own bedroom, but that complacency may have been a mistake.

Not bothering to fight them any further, I turn my glare on my father as he steps closer.

“What the fuck is this about? Losing one son wasn’t enough, you want to have a matching pair?” I bait.

“See, here’s the thing, son.” He spits the word as if it’s personally offended him. “I’m not so sure I’ve lost anyone. I think they walked out the front doors with a fucking traitor in their arms.”

I keep my face neutral, knowing the more surprised I act about a revelation, the less he’ll believe I played no part in it.

“And I think you helped him.”

A rough laugh of disbelief tumbles from my throat. “And what makes you think I had anything to do with this wild theory?”

“You remained inside the compound during the security breaches, giving you the opportunity and the means to set off the alarms.”

I hold his glare, knowing he won’t find what he’s searching for in my eyes. If there’s anything being Salvatore Lombardi’s son has taught me, it’s how to stare death in the face without flinching.

There’s a quiet voice in the back of my head that acknowledges it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to die. What do I really have to live for other than a position I was born into but have never allowed myself to consider whether I really wanted and a lifetime of loneliness?

Especially if Ronan doesn’t come back.

It’s a fleeting thought, but the discomfort it leaves in my chest lingers.

“It’s not like you to beat around the bush, Father.”

If there’s one thing to know about my father, it’s that he loathes weakness. Detests it. And despite how hard my heart beats in my chest, I hold his soulless gaze.

“You are going to bring my traitor son home as well as his little whore. You have two weeks, and if you fail, there will be a bullet with your name on it waiting for you.”

As if to prove their point, Robert’s fist hits my face so hard his knuckles crack beneath the punch and pain shoots through my cheekbone.

Kyle slams his fist into my gut, stealing the wind from my lungs, leaving me gasping for air.

They land a few more hits, each one more painful than the last, but I force my face to remain even.

I’ve taken enough beatings over the years to not react.

It’s not until my entire body is blooming with bruises that the assholes stop laying into me.

Kyle moves out of the way, making space for my father to step up beside me.

His eyes hold mine with a hatred that no parent should ever have for their child, and for once it’s a struggle not to look away.

Bending over until his face is just inches from mine, he grasps my chin and jerks my face up, making my already bruised body scream.

“You will not fail me, Damon. I don’t give a fuck that you’ve had a hard-on for that whore your whole life. I don’t give a fuck about your loyalty to Ronan. If you fail to do as you’re told, I’ll have to do it myself, and if I have to do it myself, you and your brother will be forced to watch as I allow every man in this compound to tear the slut apart until she’s begging for death. And then I’ll let them start again.”

Every word is more vile than the last, and my stomach churns at the picture he’s painting.

I’ve always known Salvatore Lombardi had no soul, but this is low even for him.

Without another word, he turns on his heel and strides out of the room as if he hasn’t just delivered a death threat to his child.

Not once in my life have I questioned my loyalty to the Lombardi name, but can I really do as he’s asking?

Can I betray my brother and the only woman to ever make me feel something?

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHLOE

THEN

ELEVEN YEARS AGO

Losing Caroline shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

She never made a secret of how miserable she was, even going so far as to ask Salvatore to end her pain.

And yet the grief doesn’t seem to end. It’s a living, breathing being inside my chest, a constant reminder of how easily our time can be up.

I’ve tried to stay strong for Ronan, and in my own way, for Damon too. He won’t let me be there the same way I can be for his brother, but their mom would want me to be there for both of them, and so that’s what I’m doing.

When I reached for Damon’s hand as the casket lowered into the ground, I did so expecting him to pull away.

But he didn’t, and the stupid organ inside my chest couldn’t help but be hopeful that maybe he doesn’t hate me the way he wants me to believe.

The Lombardi plot sits in the center of the cemetery, a place for the next several generations to rest in peace. The headstones are ostentatious and unnecessary but in line with what I’ve come to expect from crime families.

Damon doesn’t drop my hand as Ronan leads us toward the grave, two roses clutched in his hand. One for him and one for me, while Damon holds his own.

There’s a finality to this moment, to saying goodbye one last time.

The funeral planning is done, the montage of her life ready to be played back at the compound, and all that remains is the grief of losing someone so close to each of us.

Ronan repositions me under his arm, passing me a rose once one of my hands is free.

“Thank you,” I murmur gratefully.

The three of us are under a microscope. Salvatore watches every move we make, frustration dancing on his brow. My parents’ eyes are filled with worry. And those closest to the family watch with so much interest I would have dropped Damon’s hand if he weren’t clutching it like his life depends on the contact.

We pause at the edge of the grave, staring down at the deep burgundy coffin below. Salvatore fought against the color, but Caroline specifically requested it. We wanted her final resting place to be exactly as she wanted.

Blinking away the tears that threaten to fall, I struggle to remain composed. I can break later, when I’m not surrounded by people that want to see me fall.

Ronan and I whisper goodbyes, my chest aching with emotion, but when Damon doesn’t drop his rose on top of the coffin, I glance up at him.

His hand clutches mine so tight it borders on pain, while the other strangles the stem of the rose. Droplets of blood seep through his fingers, the thorns cutting into his hand, but you’d never know from his stony expression.

“Damon?” I say softly, breaking him from his trance.

His ice-blue eyes drop to mine, and the hatred I’ve become so familiar with returns. “Fuck this,” he mutters, throwing the rose into the grave without uttering a word to his mother, and then he’s gone.

He shoves through the line of mourners behind us, ignoring his father’s cold expression as he makes his way in the opposite direction to the cars.

Ronan curses, gently guiding me away from the grave, only pausing when we’re beneath a tree away from the majority of the crowd.

“Do you want to go after him?” I ask softly, turning my body into his and wrapping my arms around his torso.

“He won’t listen to me. He won’t listen to anyone.” He sighs. “I thought when he let you take his hand he was finally letting someone in. But then…” He trails off, not needing to finish the thought because we were both there.

Pressing my eyes closed, I drag a calming breath into my lungs, trying not to focus on his latest rejection.

Damon has been breaking my heart for years, but I’m too raw from my grief to handle the latest crack.

“You should go,” he says. “Maybe he’ll listen to you.”

“Ro, he hates me. He’s made no secret of that. What makes you think he’ll listen to a single word I have to say?”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

We’ve had this argument so many times over the last few years, but no matter how much he insists that his brother could never hate me, I know the truth. I’ve seen the disdain staring back at me whenever our eyes lock, and I stopped trying to mend something Damon has no interest in repairing a long time ago.

“Try,” he pleads. “For me.”

There’s a part of me, and not a small part, that wants to deny him, but if there’s one person in this world I can’t say no to, it’s Ronan.

I nod with a sigh, glancing at the hill he disappeared over.

“Thank you, Sparrow,” he murmurs, dropping a sweet kiss to my temple before releasing me.

Not bothering to look back at the funeral site, I trace Damon’s steps with my heart hammering in my chest.

There was a time when I found comfort in his company, when I craved it. But not anymore. Now I dread every interaction, knowing I’m the last person Damon wants to see at the best of times, but especially now.

My heels sink into the damp grass the further I walk between headstones, and it’s not until I’m about to turn back that I see him.

He leans against a tree, a lit cigarette between his fingers, but he makes no move to take a drag. His eyes are locked on something ahead of him, and I can’t tell if he doesn’t notice me or if he’s choosing to ignore my approach.

He finally glances up when I’m just a few feet away, and for a split second, the veil of indifference drops. The look of contempt I’ve become so familiar with is nowhere to be seen, and he seems almost relieved to see me.

“What do you want, Chloe?” he snaps.

“Ronan wanted me to check that you were okay.”

“I’m fine. You can go now.” He looks away from me, once again staring into the distance.

I sigh, taking a few steps closer. “No one would blame you for not being okay. You just lost your mother. It’s normal to mourn.”

“I lost my mother years ago. She should have died in that accident. It would have been a far kinder fate than the one she was forced to live.”

I bite down on my lip and lean against the tree across from him, putting us just feet apart. Being so close to him makes my stomach roll uncomfortably. I don’t think Damon would hurt me, not physically at least, but I’ve seen how Salvatore trains him, how ruthless he teaches his sons to be, especially Damon.

If he had his way, both his sons would be cold, unfeeling robots, just like him.

“You can tell Ronan I’m fine. I don’t know what made him think I would want to talk to you.” He spits the word like it’s personally offended him, and no matter how hard I try to swallow the pain his hatred brings, tears gather at the corners of my eyes.

“Neither do I,” I admit, turning away from him before he can see the tears ready to fall against my cheeks.

“Just stay away from me, Chloe. We aren’t friends, we aren’t family. You’re just my brother’s girlfriend who I can barely stand to look at.” His words cut so deep that agony slices through my chest. Knowing someone I care so deeply for thinks so little of me hurts more than I can ever describe, but by the time I get the courage to look at him, he’s gone.

For the millionth time since the night I watched him kill an innocent man, I promise myself that I’m done trying.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

RONAN

NOW

“What the fuck happened to you?” Ryker asks as Damon all but stumbles toward us.

The skin on his face has turned varying shades of purple, and if the arm he has wrapped around his middle is anything to go by, I’d guess he has a broken rib or two.

Damon glares at him before turning his attention to me. “Looks like you were right. They know I helped you escape with Chloe.”

“Fuck.” I drag a hand through my hair.

When the jet landed at the airfield, I had a text from Damon that he was on his way here and not to bother coming into Miami. Now I see why.

“And what did Daddy Lombardi have to say when he confronted you?” Ryker folds his arms over his chest, standing between my brother and the stairs.

“He didn’t,” Damon replies. “He had two of his enforcers deliver the message, and I barely managed to escape before they could take me to him.”

My brows raise in surprise. It’s not like my brother to run. He’s always been ready to face any problem head-on even the ones that could get him killed. It’s out of character that he didn’t even bother trying to defend himself to our father.

Ryker’s frown deepens, and I suspect he’s thinking the same thing I am.

“Do you need a doctor?” I ask, brushing off the lingering suspicion. Things have changed for Damon over the last month, the return of Chloe knocking him off-kilter and making him consider something other than the future Dad paved for him.

He shakes his head. “Nothing that’s going to kill me.”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Ryker says, finally tearing his assessing glare from my brother and turning toward the jet.

I fall in line behind him, pausing at the steps to help Damon.

I half expect him to refuse my help, but he’s in real pain, and even with my assistance, it takes three times longer to get to the top than it should.

Damon drops into the first seat we come to, and I help him with the seat belt when it’s clear his ribs are making it difficult to do it himself.

“I’ll grab the first aid kit from the back and patch up some of these cuts,” I tell him once he’s clipped in.

“I’m fine, Ronan. Nothing I haven’t dealt with a million times before.”

I roll my eyes. Always so fucking stubborn. “Sit tight for a minute,” I say, not giving him another chance to argue before heading to the bathroom at the back of the jet.

I’m gone for less than a minute, but when I return I find Ryker looming over him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I growl.

He doesn’t respond immediately, and it’s not until I’m within a few feet that I notice the zip ties hanging out of his pocket.

“Is that necessary?” I snap.

“Was it necessary when he did the same to Chloe?” Ryker asks, not bothering to look up at me. “By my calculations, this asshole is still more of a threat black and blue than my girl is on a good day, so yeah, I’d say it’s necessary.”

“She’s not your girl,” I argue.

“Really? Because I’m the only one here that’s been inside her in the last decade, so from where I’m standing, she absolutely is my girl.” He smirks, securing Damon’s bound hands to the armrest.

I suck in a breath. This motherfucker has a death wish.

“Until I can confirm the story he’s spinning, I’m not going to give him a chance to catch me off guard. You don’t survive as long as I have in my line of work without a healthy dose of suspicion about everyone you meet.”

“And yet you’ve never tied me to a chair,” I point out.

“You care more about finding Chloe than about killing me. And you know it would upset her, something you don’t want to do while you’re trying to get back in her good books.”

“He has a point,” Damon mutters.

“I don’t need you to agree with me.” Ryker frowns, shoving himself to his feet and testing the restraints.

He has them tighter than most would, but he’s right not to underestimate Damon when he’s the one who taught Chloe and me how to slip this exact kind of binding.

“I’m assuming Kingston still has you running around the country?”

“I think I know where he is,” Ryker says, typing something out on his phone.

“That’s news to me,” I grumble.

“We’ll be wheels up in ten.”

He turns and strides toward the back of the plane and drops into his usual seat.

“How have you not killed him yet?” Damon asks.

“With great difficulty.” I crouch beside him and rummage through the first aid kit for something to clean the cut above his eyebrow and his lip. “He’s my best chance at finding her, though.”

I dab at the dried blood above his eye, but his features remain stony. He stopped reacting to pain years ago, an inevitability when every move is scrutinized.

We fall into silence as I finish wiping away blood and secure a strip of tape over the cut on his eyebrow. It probably doesn’t need it, but if he refuses to see a doctor, I’d rather be safe than sorry.

I’m just finishing up when the sound of three phones going off at the same time fills the cabin, including my own.

I tug it from my pocket and curse as I read the text.

That motherfucker.

You’re invited to the wedding of

Kingston Beaumont

and

Chloe Weaver

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHLOE

NOW

Ihaven’t seen Kingston since he disappeared from the shower the day before yesterday, and his absence is as painful as it is irritating.

The worst part? I’m not even sure he’s in the house.

I want to think there’s no way he would leave me here by myself, but then I remember that he abandoned me once. Why wouldn’t he do it again?

In a particularly weak moment, I hunted for the cameras, hoping he might come back if he saw how lonely I was, but not even that worked.

Wandering through the house, I test the doors and windows, hoping one of them has been unlocked since the last time I checked, but no such luck.

I’m bored.

I’m lonely.

And frankly, I’m kind of pissed.

Kingston is acting like a teenage girl that’s not getting his own way, and if I needed any other reasons not to marry him, this should go straight to the top of the list.

Noise in the backyard catches my attention, and I make my way into the kitchen. It’s probably just the gardener, but just seeing another person right now might make me feel less alone.

At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if I was losing my mind and my hopeful heart was imagining it, but it’s worth checking out, even if all I achieve is a snack.

Skirting around the kitchen island, I lean over the bench to look out the window, but the last thing I expect to find is no less than twenty people positioning chairs and floral decor and something that looks a lot like an altar.

“That fucking asshole,” I mutter under my breath.

Turning on my heel, I only make it a handful of steps before slamming into a hard chest.

“Careful, Mama,” he murmurs, grasping my shoulders and pulling me back until I’m staring at his stupid handsome face. Why does he have to be so attractive when he’s such an asshole?

“What the hell is going on outside?”

“Preparations for our wedding,” he says simply.

“We’re not getting married,” I snap.

“Oh, but we are, baby girl. By the time we go to sleep tonight, you’ll have my ring on your finger and my last name.”

I shove at his chest, desperate to put some distance between us, but his hold on me borders on pain.

Kingston won’t hurt me physically, but I would be an idiot not to at least be wary of him.

“I don’t want to marry anyone, let alone someone that abandoned me during the worst time in my life!” I shout, my heart beating so hard I can barely breathe through the pressure. He’s already explained why he left me back then, and his reasoning makes sense, but that doesn’t take away the pain it caused, nor the fears that made it difficult to trust anyone ever again.

His dark eyes narrow, and the dark part of him he usually keeps hidden from me peeks out.

Gathering both my hands in one of his to stop me from pushing him away, he spins us, pressing me face down over the kitchen island.

“Kingston,” I warn, an edge of fear stuttering through my chest.

His much larger frame covers mine, pinning me where he wants me.

Warm breath whispers across the shell of my ear, and it takes everything in me not to moan when he presses his hard cock against the curve of my ass.

Goddamn it. Why does my body have to set alight every time he touches me?

“That’s better,” he murmurs, shifting his hips against mine with a deep rumble. “Your mind is desperate to disobey me, but your body? Your body craves submission. Your body knows I’ll always take care of everything.”

“I’m not marrying you,” I repeat, but it’s impossible to miss the way my voice trembles.

He sighs, the sound of disappointment sending guilt shooting through my chest.

Why do I have to be such a people pleaser? If there were ever a time to not do something just because it would make someone else happy, this seems like the one.

“I don’t want to do this the hard way, Chloe. But I will. If the only way I can get you to say ‘I do’ is to force your hand, I can always ask for forgiveness later.”

Tears well in my eyes, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. “What about the others? How can you possibly want to marry me when you’ll never have my whole heart?”

Kingston doesn’t reply immediately, and for a time I wonder whether he’ll bother at all. But then his hips shift, giving him enough room to tug my yoga pants and panties down in one quick move, leaving them banded around my knees.

“King,” I warn.

Without a word, his fingers dip between my thighs, immediately finding the tight bundle of nerves that ache for him despite how much I should loathe him.

“Your pretty cunt seems to want me just fine, Mama.” He chuckles, dipping two fingers into my heat before returning them to my clit.

A desperate release barrels toward me. Between his ministrations the other morning and stopping me before I could find my release in the shower, it doesn’t take much to bring me to the edge.

“My body isn’t the problem,” I remind him.

“Your heart I can covet. It might take time to push them out, but we have the rest of our lives to make sure the only man in your heart is me.”

Pressing my eyes closed, a stray tear rolls down my cheek as he drives me closer to an orgasm I’m both desperate for and dreading.

I want to ask him to stop, to beg him not to do this, but there’s another part of me, one I’ve kept buried for years, that wants this, that wants someone to take the decisions away from me, to make the hard choices so I don’t have to.

“You want to come, Mama?”

I shake my head while my body pleads with me to say yes. To give in to everything he’s offering.

What are my other choices?

Say no and spend the rest of my life torn between them?

“Yes,” I whimper when he plunges two thick fingers into my aching heat.

“Marry me,” he demands.

“No.”

He doubles his efforts, his thumb drawing tight circles over my clit while his fingers drag over the place inside me that will send me spiraling whether I want it or not.

I’m vaguely aware of the obscene sound coming from between my thighs and the wetness clinging to my heated skin, but I’m lost in a fog of desire, desperate for a release that has the power to destroy me.

“You’re gushing for me, baby girl. So fucking wet,” Kingston groans against my ear, his hardness grinding against my thigh, pushing me closer to the edge. “Say you’ll marry me, and I’ll make you come so hard you’ll still be feeling aftershocks when you walk down the aisle in a few hours.”

“I can’t,” I sob.

“Of course you can, Mama. Just say the word, and everything you’ve ever wanted is yours,” he pleads, and for the first time I hear what I’ve been missing in his tone. A desperation I’ve never heard from him before.

Tears slip down my cheeks and onto the marble beneath my face.

I’m torn between two imperfect options. The desperate need to be loved and cared for is warring with the knowledge that I can’t marry a man who only holds part of my heart.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

KINGSTON

NOW

Unfortunately, this is far from the first time I’ve seen Chloe cry.

I held her through the hardest days of her life, nursing her back to health, making sure she had everything she needed even as she wished her life would end just so she wouldn’t hurt anymore.

And to be honest, those were the hardest days of my life as well.

For years I kept myself at arm’s length from every person I met, refusing to allow myself to feel, but the second I saw Chloe curled up on that gas station floor, I knew that was over.

The emotions I spent years compartmentalizing came rushing back stronger than ever, which is why it hurts so much to push her like this.

But I keep reminding myself that it’s necessary.

Chloe must be my wife for so many reasons, but more than any of them, it’s because I refuse to live the rest of my life without her by my side.

Her hips press back against me, desperately searching for the release I’m more than happy to give her.

All she has to do is say she’ll marry me.

“King,” Chloe whimpers.

A deep groan tears from my chest, the ache in my balls approaching the point of no return. Between how wet she is for me and her desperate little whines, I’m about ready to blow my load in my pants like a prepubescent boy watching porn for the first time.

Reaching for my zipper, I make quick work of freeing my dick, giving it a few quick pumps to relieve some of the pressure.

Not that it helps.

Even if I come all over her perky ass, I won’t know true satisfaction until I’m balls deep inside her.

But that won’t be happening until my ring is on her finger and she’s officially Chloe Beaumont.

“Please don’t do this,” she begs.

“Don’t do what, Mama? Don’t make you feel good? Don’t give you the life you’ve always dreamed of? What don’t you want me to do?”

“Don’t make me choose between you.” Her voice cracks.

It was foolish of me to think I could force them from her heart. Eventually I’m sure I could do it, but in the short term, her feelings for each of them are too strong.

Ronan and Damon will more than likely fuck up on their own, giving me an excuse to remove them from her life permanently.

But that still leaves Ryker.

I should have known he would fall for her. It was fucking inevitable. But he’s never shown emotion before. Not for the men he kills. Not even for their victims.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s been gentle with the women we’ve saved over the years, cautious not to frighten them anymore than they already are. But they never stick with him the way they would anyone else.

After he called to let me know he allowed Chloe to be taken, I had Corbin, our tech guy, track Ryker’s movements over the few days prior, and it was clear as fucking day on every security camera we accessed that he was gone for her.

It’s becoming increasingly inconvenient to be obsessed with a woman that seems to attract unhinged men like it’s her job.

When it becomes clear that she’s not going to relent, no matter how hard I push her, I decide it’s time to end this. She’ll be walking down the aisle regardless. I had just hoped she would be doing it of her own free will.

I jerk my cock roughly, chasing the release I’ve been desperate for since I first bent her over the counter.

My balls tighten, and a moment later thick ropes of cum cover her silky ass and pink pussy. The sight makes my orgasm drag on for so long, dark spots burst into my vision, and I have no choice but to use her body to steady myself so my legs don’t give way beneath me.

Once I regain control of my limbs, I carefully drag her panties up over her hips, trapping my seed beneath the soft cotton.

“You are not to shower. You are not to change your underwear or wipe me from your skin. You will be walking down the aisle tonight wearing my cum,” I murmur against the shell of her ear.

“I can’t do that!” she snaps, just as I catch movement out of the corner of my eye.

Allowing anyone to see her like this goes against every possessive instinct, but a man has to do whatever it takes to keep his woman.

“Say hello to your wedding present, Mama.” I chuckle, pushing myself to my full height and tucking my cock back into my pants. “Gentlemen.” I regard them with a smirk.

Chloe lifts her head from the counter, tears stained against her cheeks, and horror fills her pretty green eyes when she finds Ronan, Ryker, and a black-and-blue Damon standing in the doorway.

Inviting them here might be a mistake, but if there’s a chance to remove them from her life once and for all, I’m going to take it.

CHAPTER THIRTY

RONAN

NOW

The universe really loves fucking with me, because for the second time in a matter of weeks, I’m watching as another man brings Chloe pleasure, and I can’t do a fucking thing about it because there’s a gun pressed to my back.

If it weren’t for the fact we can’t see anything from this side of the island, I’d be even more furious that Kingston would allow one of his guards to see her like this.

Chloe’s eyes lock with mine, and my chest tightens at the sight of her tears.

I’ve never been able to handle them, even when we were kids and she would fall off her bike, but it’s worse now because I can’t go to her.

I can’t pull her into my arms and tell her it’s all going to be okay, because I refuse to lie to her.

Ryker’s chuckle drags my attention from my woman splayed across the marble counter in front of us, and when I glance up at him, his amber eyes are full of amusement.

“Really, King? You might as well have pissed on her to mark your territory.”

Ignoring the gun pressed to his lower back, he steps forward, leaning over the counter to brush the tears from Chloe’s cheek.

“You okay, Siren?”

She shakes her head as a deep sob tears from her chest, making my own ache.

If it weren’t for the fact that Kingston is far more likely to shoot me than one of his own men, I would be right beside him.

It’s obvious how much Ryker cares for Chloe, and after the hell my family has put her through, she deserves as much love and affection as she can get, even if it doesn’t come from me.

For my part in her most recent time in the cellar beneath the Lombardi compound, I deserve her hatred.

Ryker’s attention flicks up to Kingston, who still holds onto Chloe’s hips, keeping her in place.

I’m not sure who he’s trying to punish with this show of dominance, but the fact he could cause her any pain makes me want to kill him for an entirely different reason to the one I’ve lived by for most of my life.

“You think she’s going to agree to marry you when you’re hurting her like this?” he rumbles. “You think she’s ever going to love you when you’re being so fucking cruel.”

Kingston’s dark eyes flash with something that looks a lot like regret, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared.

“You can leave,” he says to the two guards who escorted us through the house. Or, more accurately, mansion.

This place is fucking massive, even by Mafia family standards.

If it weren’t for the fury radiating off Damon beside me, I would have thought he was unbothered given his complete silence, but when I look up and see his bruised jaw click with tension, I realize he’s seconds away from losing his shit. Once again proving his feelings toward Chloe are far deeper than hatred.

As soon as the guards are out of sight, Kingston carefully helps Chloe stand but holds her against him.

He drops a soft kiss to her temple, and although I expect her to be rigid in his arms after what he just did, she makes no move to escape him.

Ryker narrows his eyes on his boss.

“I’m glad you could make it for our big day,” Kingston says, dragging his eyes over each of us.

“She’s not marrying you,” Damon snaps, stepping forward as he pulls his gun from its holster.

The fact we weren’t searched on the way in seems like an oversight, especially considering how many years we’ve been hunting Kingston.

“It’s cute that you think a gunshot wound would be enough to stop me.”

Ryker steps around the island slowly at the same time I step forward.

Kingston may deserve to pay for his sins, but I’m not about to watch Chloe become collateral damage.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHLOE

NOW

Ialmost wish Damon would aim lower and put me out of my misery.

It’s a morbid thought, but the turmoil in my chest borders on excruciating.

Having the four of them in one room is like having my heart stepped on repeatedly, the reminder that they’ll never be mine making my entire body ache.

“Drop the gun, man,” Ronan says as he steps up beside his brother.

“He needs to die,” Damon growls, his stance widening to steady himself.

“You are not shooting him with the love of my life in the way,” he growls, and I can’t help but look to the boy that was once my sun and moon.

“I’m a good shot.”

“I don’t fucking care,” Ronan grinds out.

Kingston’s arm tightens around me. I can’t tell if he’s hoping to use me as some kind of human shield or if he’s preparing to push me out of the way if it comes to it, but his warmth is strangely comforting, even with a gun aimed at us.

Ryker approaches from the left, each step slow and precise like a predator stalking his prey.

“Damon,” I say calmly, meeting his icy blue gaze. It’s been so long since I’ve truly allowed myself to look at him, and I’m once again struck by how different he looks from when we were teenagers. “Please don’t do this.”

“You’re protecting him after he kidnapped you and is forcing you to marry him?”

I suck in a breath, because those things are pretty damning, but they don’t negate everything he’s done for me. It doesn’t erase the nights he held me while I wished for death, whispering gentle reassurances that became all I had to cling to.

“Kingston saved my life,” I remind him. “He picked up the pieces you and Salvatore shattered me into and made sure I had somewhere safe to go where you wouldn’t find me. Him being an asshole now doesn’t erase the fact I would be dead right now if it weren’t for him.”

Ronan flinches at the harsh words, but I keep my eyes trained on Damon and the gun he’s holding.

“Mama,” Kingston murmurs in warning.

“Put the gun down, Damon. Please.” My voice shakes with each word that falls from my lips.

There’s a voice in the back of my mind reminding me that he has the opportunity to take out two people he hates, but I have to believe that he wouldn’t kill me.

I have to believe that what I feel for him isn’t one-sided.

Indecision passes through his eyes, and I hold my breath as Ronan takes a step closer to his brother.

Ryker reaches out and takes my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze, causing King to tighten his hold on me.

Jealous asshole.

“Please,” I whisper again. “Put the gun down.”

I’m pleading with someone that shut his emotions off years ago, and yet I swear a ghost of hesitation moves across his features.

“Move, Chloe. I don’t want to shoot you, but I will.”

Three rough growls fill the room at the threat, and my breath stutters in my chest.

The hopeful beat of my heart has no place here.

Kingston brought them here for a reason, which means he has something planned to get me down the aisle, and it sure as hell isn’t sharing me the way the Legion guys share Camilla.

The thought alone is enough to make me scoff.

I doubt there are four men on earth who hate each other more than they do.

“You won’t shoot me.”

He glares over the barrel. “You sure about that, Duchess?”

“If you wanted me dead, you’ve had more than enough opportunities to kill me. You could have killed me ten years ago, or the day you stepped back into my life, or when I was back in the cellar. And yet here I am,” I challenge. “Put the gun down.”

Indecision flickers through his eyes, giving Ronan the chance to wrap his hands around the weapon and flick the safety on.

Before I have a chance to breathe a sigh of relief, I’m in Ryker’s arms. His distinct scent wraps around me, and I can’t help but relax into his hold.

I never thought I’d see him again, and until right now, I hadn’t let myself consider how much that hurt. In such a short space of time, he’s come to mean so much to me.

Hell, after a decade of keeping my distance from everyone, he’s the person who knocked down my walls. He’s the one I went to for comfort when I didn’t trust anyone else. And he’s the one I knew wouldn’t give up on finding me, even when my mind tried to tell me no one was coming.

“I missed you, Siren,” he murmurs against my hair as a tattooed hand comes to rest on the back of my head, holding me in place.

“I missed you too.” I wrap my arms around his middle, holding him just as tight as he is me and ignoring the glares I’m certain we’re receiving from the other men in the room.

I didn’t realize it before, but Ryker gives me something I never knew I needed.

A deep sense of safety.

The last few weeks have been some of the worst of my life, and yet when I’m in his arms with his steady heartbeat against my ear, none of that matters.

Long before I’m ready, he takes a small step back, his eyes moving over my body in search of injuries. “You’re not hurt?”

“No, she’s not hurt,” Kingston snaps. “You think I spent the last decade keeping her safe and sent my best employee to personally guard her just to harm her the second she steps into my care?”

“Not all injuries are physical, boss.” He spits the word before turning his attention back on me, brushing the hair at my temple back to look at the cut that’s almost completely healed.

For the first few days I was here, I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror. The memories of what Ralph almost did to me were too fresh. They still are, but at least I don’t have the reminder each time I catch sight of my reflection.

It’s a miracle my dreams haven’t been plagued by the feel of his filthy hands on me and his weight pressing down on me.

“I’m fine,” I assure him as I lean into his touch.

He may be a killer and a remorseless one if the things I’ve been told are true, but he’s never looked at me with anything less than softness, and if I had to choose one man in this room that could never harm me, it would be him.

“That’s enough,” Kingston rumbles, stepping up behind me.

Before he has a chance to grab me, Ryker turns us, putting me out of his reach.

“Nope, you’ve been hoarding our girl for a week. If you didn’t want to share, you shouldn’t have brought us here.” He says it so casually, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, but it makes my heart skip a beat.

I bite down on my bottom lip to stop the smile that tries to appear. I can’t let myself get my hopes up, not when I know how possessive Kingston is.

“Lombardi.” Ryker jerks his head at Ronan, and with just a single word of invitation, he rounds the island and tugs me into his arms.

The way he holds me is different from my tattooed bodyguard. Tentative even. But I soak up every second of his arms around me.

I know what it’s like to not know a hug could be my last, and I’ll never take the simple gestures for granted.

His lips ghost across the top of my head. “You gotta stop disappearing on me, Sparrow.”

I half laugh, the sound broken by the sob that forces its way out. “It’s never been by choice, Ro.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

RYKER

NOW

Iturn away from Chloe and Ronan, allowing them to have their moment, albeit with Damon’s attention locked on them with a grimace.

If there’s someone on earth that could benefit from smiling more, it’s Damon fucking Lombardi.

Kingston glares at the two of them, and I step into his line of sight. As annoying as he is, Ronan cares for Chloe. He was willing to betray his family to save her, and I respect him for it.

Even if I do find his face very punchable.

When I stepped into this life, I was content with spending it alone. Allowing anyone to get close to me was an invitation for someone to hurt them.

It wasn’t until Chloe that that became a problem.

As shitty as it sounds, distancing myself from my family was easy. They were better off without me, even before I started killing people for a living, and they were never the same after my sister died. I was just a reminder of the worst time in their lives.

I hear from them exactly twice per year. My birthday and Christmas, and even then our conversations are short and surface level.

For a long time, Kingston was the only person I considered so much as a friend, but right now I’d put a bullet in his head and not lose a wink of sleep over it.

What he’s done to Chloe the last week is cruel. Stealing her away when she was already vulnerable, not letting anyone speak to her to ensure she was okay, and then whatever the fuck it was that we walked in on.

You know what?

My fist connects with his cheek with a loud crack as pain bursts through my fingers. But it’s the good kind of pain, the kind I crave. The kind that has been far too absent since I started guarding my sweet siren.

“You’re a son of a bitch, you know that?” I snap.

Kingston holds his cheek, dark eyes staring back at me with disdain. “You were meant to keep your hands off her. You were never meant to touch what never belonged to you.”

I roll my eyes. “You honestly thought you could send me to guard her and I wouldn’t get attached?”

“You’ve never gotten attached before,” he reminds me.

“Chloe’s different, and you know it. Why else would there be four men that literally cannot stand one another in this room right now? For her?”

I glance over my shoulder to find Ronan holding Chloe’s head in place, making sure she’s not forced to watch as I throw another punch, this time connecting with his jaw.

“That’s enough,” he growls.

Movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention, but it’s not the altar being set up close to the house that my eyes lock on.

It’s the four men moving across the yard with guns raised toward the house.

“Get her away from the windows,” I bark at Ronan.

“What’s going on?” Kingston asks as I shove him away from the window. “Were you followed?”

I glare at him. “Who do you think you’re talking to right now?”

He and I both know part of being one of the best trackers in the country is always knowing when someone thinks they can get the jump on me.

Half the time it’s what makes my job easy. They think because they were able to kill before that they can take me out, but it just brings them into my trap, exactly where I want them.

Ronan ushers Chloe to the other side of the island, holding her close to his body to shield her from view.

His brother reaches for her, and to my surprise, she goes willingly, her panicked eyes darting around to each of us.

She cares for the four of us, likely more than she’d be willing to admit, but Chloe hasn’t been able to keep a single one of her emotions a secret since the day we met.

The two of them move toward the doorway, their bodies shielding hers.

“We can’t leave them,” she says as Kingston pulls a gun from beneath the sink and I tug mine from its holster.

The people he has building what is likely Chloe’s dream wedding are blissfully unaware of the threat moving closer with each second that ticks by.

“They’ll be fine,” Damon assures her as he flicks cold blue eyes over his shoulder.

Knowing him, he’s probably hoping for our demise so he can be free of us, but not even the Grim Reaper himself could drag me to hell.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHLOE

NOW

Panic thrums through my veins as Damon gently pushes me toward the front of the house.

Growing up in a Mafia family, I’m no stranger to dangerous situations, but this is different.

I only got a glimpse of the men crossing the yard, but the masks make me think they aren’t Lombardi men.

Unless the brothers being here is a trap.

The thought slams into me, taking my breath away in the process.

Ronan and Ryker seemed genuinely relieved to see me, even in the compromising position they found me in.

But I wouldn’t put it past Damon to betray just about anyone to get his revenge.

I try to stop in my tracks, but the brothers move me forward despite my desperate attempts.

“For once in your life, can you just fucking do as you’re told?” Damon snaps.

“Get your hands off me!” I reply, but as soon as I twist out of his hold, Ronan blocks my path back to the kitchen.

“We’re just trying to keep you safe, Chloe,” he says calmly, eyes moving over the room for threats.

“You may be, but I wouldn’t trust your brother if he were the last person on the fucking planet.”

Damon rolls his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips. “The feeling is mutual, Duchess. I already miss the years I thought you were dead.”

“Then you shouldn’t have taken me back to Miami, should you?” I hiss. “If you’d just left me in New York, none of this would have happened.”

“Guys,” Ronan says carefully, but I’m not done. This asshole deserves every bit of my anger.

“In fact, if you hadn’t assisted in torturing me all those years ago and had stuck up to your daddy, I never would have been in hiding.”

“Wait. He did what?” Ronan growls. “You tortured the mother of my goddamn child?”

“Hardly. She got a couple of cuts and bruises from some of the guys. I never laid a hand on her.”

The tension in his body eases slightly before his attention falls on the front window. “Fuck.”

I follow his line of sight, and my stomach dips when I notice two men dressed the same as the ones around the back approaching the house.

“We’re surrounded,” Ronan calls out to Kingston and Ryker.

“Panic room upstairs in Chloe’s room. Get her there now!” Kingston barks out the order, and I find myself rushed forward by the brothers.

“We’re not leaving them!” I thrash against them, but the second we hit the stairs, I’m over Damon’s shoulder.

“Never met anyone so intent on getting themself killed.”

“Really? Because you’re such an asshole, I’m certain you’ve made it your life mission to make everyone you meet want to kill you.”

He scoffs. “I forgot you could be funny when you’re not being annoying as fuck.”

“Will you two stop bickering for five seconds?” Ronan growls.

“She started it.”

“Are you five?” I shove against his back to look up at Ronan walking up the stairs backward, his gun trained on the front door.

“Which way to your room, Duchess?”

“To the left,” I huff.

As badly as I want to fight him, I’d rather not die today, and the sooner I’m safe, the easier it will be for Ryker and Kingston to neutralize the threat without being worried about me.

I may be pissed at one of them, but I’m well aware of how much he cares for me.

Ronan continues walking backward as Damon takes measured steps down the hallway, and when we reach the room I woke up in, I let him know.

He finally puts me on my feet, but none of us move.

“I don’t know where the panic room is,” I admit. “King didn’t even tell me there was one in here.”

“Fantastic,” Damon drawls sarcastically.

Ronan shoves the gun at Damon and moves to the closet, his eyes darting around at the rows of designer clothing.

He shakes himself off and starts pushing things down the railing, searching for the entrance to the panic room.

I’m frozen, torn between doing as I’m told and wanting to be helpful. It’s been so long since I’ve held a gun, only going to the shooting range with John and Camilla a few times over the years, but I’m sure it’s like riding a bike, especially when our lives are at risk.

Damon steps toward the open door and slowly peers out into the hallway before cursing.

“We have company,” he calls out to Ronan.

Fresh panic crashes over me as I remember how many times the three of us watched horror movies as kids, laughing at the stupidity of those who were running up the stairs and trapping themselves.

Isn’t that what we’ve done?

Turned ourselves into sitting ducks?

A series of gunshots sound from downstairs, and I rush to the window.

Blood seeps into the grass beside one of the wedding organizers, and guilt slides into my chest beside the panic.

If it weren’t for Kingston’s need to have me agree to marry him, they wouldn’t have been here today. If I’d just signed the marriage certificate, she would be alive right now.

A few yards away there’s someone else motionless on the lawn, but there’s no blood, giving me hope that they’re alive.

“Get away from the window,” Damon snaps.

“Whoever was out there is in the house,” I tell him, ignoring his snarky tone.

I’m starting to wonder if he knows how to not be an asshole.

“Get in the closet with Ronan,” he orders.

“I’m not leaving you out here to die,” I argue.

He throws me a smug smirk over his shoulder. “Would you be sad if I died, Duchess?”

I roll my eyes. “No, but Ronan would, and Salvatore wants me dead enough already without being responsible for his heir’s death.”

“Just get in the goddamn closet.”

“Give me a gun.”

“So you can shoot me?”

“No, so I can help you, you idiot.”

There’s something so familiar about bickering with him that eases the panic thrumming inside me, but when more gunshots ring through the house, it all comes crashing back.

“Get in the fucking closet, Chloe,” he grinds out, and for once I decide not to fight him.

I may have kept up with my training over the years, but I haven’t faced actual hand-to-hand combat since the drills our fathers used to put us through when we were teenagers.

Reaching the closet door, I find Ronan on his hands and knees at the back of the large space, shoving dresses aside.

Kingston really should have been more specific.

“Do you want me to check the bathroom?” I ask.

He glances over his shoulder, fear and determination battling in the depths of the green, but it’s the indecision that has me making the choice for the both of us.

Ronan has been faced with losing me too many times for him to choose anything that could lead to me being hurt. The problem is, both options are just as dangerous as the other.

I step back from the doorway, but I only make it a few steps before another gunshot fills the house, but this time it’s not downstairs.

It’s right outside the door.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

RYKER

NOW

It’s been too long since I’ve been in a gunfight, but I’m not getting the kind of thrill I normally would.

Because Chloe is here, which means she’s at risk, and the idea of her being hurt when I should have protected her fucking hurts.

“Will you be okay here if I go to the front?” I ask Kingston, never taking my eyes off the targets that move closer to the house.

“This isn’t my first time, Ryker.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re so fucking old that’s hardly a surprise.”

He turns an unamused glare at me, but I don’t miss the way his lips tip up in amusement.

He’s only a little over a decade older than me, but that doesn’t mean I won’t take every opportunity presented to me to comment on his age.

I steer clear of the windows as I make my way into the living room, but I don’t expect to see three guys dressed in all black stepping through the front door.

“Where the fuck is your security team?” I shout into the kitchen, using the doorway to shield me from our visitors.

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Glad they held a gun on me when they know I work for you but let these fuckers stroll in like they own the place.”

There’s a good chance they’re dead, but they shouldn’t have let these assholes get the jump on them.

“By the way, how is this little plan of yours to force Chloe to marry you going?”

“Not really the time to discuss my failed scheme, Ry.”

“I’m glad you can acknowledge it was a scheme.” I get a clear shot as one of the men steps across the threshold and take it.

His body drops in the doorway, adding a convenient obstacle to slow any other intruders down.

This attack is coordinated, and although I’d love nothing more than to blame Damon if for no other reason than to have an excuse to kill him, it can’t be.

I searched him and everything he brought with him when he got on the plane, and his phone is currently smashed to a million pieces on the jet.

He hasn’t had a moment alone since he joined us, which rules him out as a suspect.

Unfortunately for now, he gets to live.

I take out the next guy that comes through the door, but gunshots in the kitchen pull my attention from the front door.

Kingston ducks behind the island, only popping up to return fire, and I take the opportunity to take them out while they’re distracted.

“Good to see your aim hasn’t slipped during your time with the De Marcos,” he quips, pushing to his full height once the two shooters in the kitchen drop to the ground.

“There wasn’t much to do other than stalk Chloe and practice shooting,” I admit, reveling in the way his face hardens at the reminder that I fell for the woman he made me swear I wouldn’t touch.

Gunshots sound upstairs, and we both curse, immediately falling back into work mode.

“Where’s the armory?” I ask, rounding the stairs and taking them two at a time.

“The garage,” Kingston replies from behind me. As much shit as I give him for his age, he’s in better shape than most twenty-year-olds I’ve met.

“Fuck,” I murmur, checking how many bullets I have left in the only gun I have on me.

In any other circumstance, I would love a fight without them, but not when it’s Chloe’s safety in jeopardy.

My only priority is getting her out of this house safely.

Reaching the top of the stairs, I sprint toward the sound of gunfire with Kingston on my heels.

A masked figure in the doorway drops as a bullet slices through his throat, blood gushing from the wound in a way I would find amusing on any other day.

But when another man dressed in all black steps into the doorway with his gun raised, he pulls the trigger before Kingston lands a perfect headshot from over my shoulder.

I don’t get to congratulate him on his shot, though, because a cry of pain permeates the now quiet house, and I’m once again sprinting toward them.

If one of these assholes shot my siren, I’m going to wipe their entire bloodline from the face of the earth as penance.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHLOE

NOW

Idash toward the bathroom, my heart beating so hard it hurts, but the adrenaline pushes me forward.

Each shot makes me flinch, expecting to feel pain explode through my body, but it never comes.

The sound of a body hitting the ground would probably traumatize most people, but when you’ve seen someone be tortured to death, a bullet seems like mercy in comparison.

I know which one I’d prefer if given the choice.

Reaching for the door handle, I glance over my shoulder to check on the brothers, but instead of locking eyes with either of them, it’s a masked figure in the doorway with his gun raised in my direction that takes my breath away.

I’m frozen in place, terror beating through every muscle, but I can’t move even if I want to.

You’d think after the near-death experiences I’ve had that my fight-or-flight instincts would be better than this.

“Chloe, get down!” Ronan shouts from the closet, a gun I didn’t realize he had on him aimed toward the intruder.

I try to follow his instructions, but all I can do is stare at the weapon that could stop my heart and the way his finger squeezes the trigger with perfect precision you only get from experience.

Whoever these guys are, they’re highly trained.

I brace for pain, but it never comes.

Instead, I’m thrown to the ground with a hard body landing on top of me with a grunt.

Stars dance in my vision at the impact, pain bursting through my body and stealing the wind from my lungs.

Blinking through the dark spots, I stare up into cold blue eyes that flash with concern rather than their usual contempt.

Up close, I notice the dark bruising on his jaw and beneath his eye that I missed when we were in the kitchen, too distracted by the gun he had pointed at Kingston and me.

Without thinking, I reach up and brush my thumb over the small cut on his lip, fully expecting him to pull away at my gentle touch.

But he doesn’t.

Damon stares down at me with a soft expression I haven’t seen on him since we were kids.

Something warm drips onto my arm, pulling my attention from his face and to his arm.

“Did you just take a bullet for me?” I ask, unable to take my eyes off the flesh wound.

I’ve seen enough over the years to recognize one, and I thank a God I don’t believe in that it wasn’t inches to the right.

A smug smirk tugs at his lips, stretching the healing cut at the corner. “Don’t let it go to your head, Duchess.”

He makes no move to roll off me, though, his body still shielding me from any threat that might come.

Ronan drops down beside us, his fingers tipping my face up to meet his eyes.

“You okay, Sparrow?”

I nod, but don’t get a chance to respond before two sets of knees hit the carpet on my other side, causing Damon to huff.

“Gang’s all here,” he mutters.

A soft laugh escapes my throat. Not because we were just attacked. Not even because he said anything particularly funny.

But because despite their hatred for one another, they worked together when it mattered to keep me safe, and my stupid hopeful heart that refuses to give up the ridiculous notion that we could have everything we ever wanted shines bright in the back of my mind.

“Something funny, Mama?” Kingston asks.

I shake my head. “Some wedding you planned for us, King.”

Laughs sound around me, and for a moment I let myself think about what could be.

It’s stupid and impossible, but if there were ever a time to entertain a wild idea like four men who can barely stand to be in the same room sharing me, it’s right after a near-death experience.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

KINGSTON

NOW

When I can’t get in touch with the guardhouse, I assume all my security is dead and move on to getting us the hell out of here.

Ryker reviews the security tapes of the perimeter right up to the moment they cut off, a feat that most could not pull off.

Hawk Security mainly works in private contracts, but we have dabbled in security systems over the years, and this house is fitted with the very best money can buy.

Which means either this was an inside job, or we’re looking at someone highly trained.

Both options bring their own set of problems, but until Chloe is somewhere safe, I refuse to entertain either of them.

The brothers are with her now, packing a bag of her belongings before the chopper arrives in fifteen minutes.

It would have been quicker, but I had Joey scheduled for this evening to take Chloe and me to the private airfield twenty minutes from here for our honeymoon.

Our trip to the Maldives will have to wait, but I remind myself we have the rest of our lives to travel to all the countries on her bucket list.

The memory of those late nights where she struggled to find a reason to keep breathing and I made her tell me all the things she wanted to do before she died.

I don’t know if it helped, but I made a point of remembering every single thing she listed, promising myself I’d make them happen one day.

I’ll admit, domesticating a raccoon isn’t as easy as it sounds if my research is anything to go by, but it’s still not off the table, even if I have to buy an entire zoo just to house it.

Taking a few minutes to pack my own bag, I gather what I’ll need for a few days before moving to my office.

Even before bringing Chloe here, this has been my base for the last few months, making sure the renovations were complete before she got here.

Seeing the bullet holes in the walls and the chipped banister I had custom-made to match her vision board I stalked online hurts more than I expect, but then Chloe has always been able to make me feel more than anyone else.

I don’t even think she noticed those little touches, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t for her.

Ryker appears in the doorway, his own bag over his shoulder and another that I assume is one of the brothers’ in his hand. “You ready?”

Shoving my laptop, hard drive, and any important documents into my bag, I nod and follow him to the back of the house where the others are waiting.

Chloe patched up Damon’s arm, but they’re both still covered in his blood, and I swallow the growl that tries to escape.

After everything he’s put her through, I’d love nothing more than to slit his throat right here.

But then I see the way she looks at him when she doesn’t think anyone is watching, and I know I’ll never be able to follow through on it.

Not to mention the fact that when it mattered, he threw himself between her and danger, winning him an annoying amount of brownie points.

“How sure are you that neither of them could have called our location in to the Lombardis?”

“Damon definitely didn’t. I took his phone from him as soon as we got your text and destroyed it. And Ronan wouldn’t put Chloe in danger like this, regardless of his feelings toward you.”

I’ve always trusted Ryker’s instincts when it comes to people, they’re what make him such a good tracker. But if the brothers weren’t involved and there’s no way they could have been followed, that leaves every enemy I’ve ever made as an option.

Chloe turns to us, her eyes lighting up when she sees Ryker, and my chest tightens.

She cares for him more than I anticipated. I assumed her attachment was more of a trauma response than anything else, but after observing them in the kitchen before the chaos started, I can see there’s more to it than that.

For both of them.

But I refuse to give her up. I’ve spent a decade longing for her, keeping her safe from a distance and building a life that she can be the center of. I’m not willing to give that up just because she and Ryker have formed a connection.

But I’m also not willing to share her. My possessive need to own every part of her, to consume her every thought and be responsible for every smile and moan she ever makes is overwhelming.

Chloe steps into his arms as soon as we’re close enough, and I watch Damon’s and Ronan’s reaction to their affection.

The latter watches with unguarded eyes, and I can’t help but wonder if he and Ryker have already discussed what happens next.

While Damon doesn’t seem so happy about the interaction, his hands are fisted at his sides and his jaw is locked tight.

“You got everything you need, Siren?”

“I think so. I didn’t know where we were going, so I tried to pack a bit of everything.”

All eyes turn to me, waiting to hear what the plan is.

The problem is, I don’t have one, and until I know who we can trust within my own organization, that’s not going to change anytime soon.

“Joey will take us an hour north. There’s a cabin owned by an associate of mine that we can use for a few days while we gather some more information.”

“A cabin?” Damon asks incredulously. “You’ve evaded us for almost two decades, and your answer is a cabin?”

I huff out an irritated sigh. “I’ve evaded your father and his men for so long because I never make the obvious choice. Going to any property I own is the obvious choice, and one my enemies will see coming. Choosing one owned by someone I trust ensures we stay under the radar while we work out how to proceed.”

“Whose cabin?” Ryker asks, a hint of uncertainty moving into his tone, but I hear the question he doesn’t ask.

Has he killed there?

“You’ve never been,” I reassure him, but I choose not to disclose who it belongs to.

As much as I trust Ryker with my life, and more importantly, Chloe’s, I know it’s unwise to share everything with him.

He may be my number two, but no one is above betrayal.

His shoulders relax slightly, and he tucks Chloe under his arm, keeping both bags from resting on her.

When I sent him to watch her, I knew there was a possibility he would find her attractive. Hell, I even considered that he might try to pursue a sexual relationship with her.

But I didn’t think the heartless killer I’ve known all these years had the ability to feel the kinds of emotions he’s staring at her with.

The sound of the chopper approaching pushes us into motion.

Ronan picks up his bag as well as Chloe’s, while Damon leads us out into the yard, his sore arm wrapped around his middle while the other clutches a gun.

Ryker and Chloe follow them, and I watch in awe as he tilts her head into his chest, protecting her from seeing the carnage our attackers left behind.

He needn’t bother considering what she’s lived through, but the thoughtfulness in that gesture is so unlike the Ryker I know that it’s all I can think about as we load onto the helicopter.

How am I meant to deprive the woman I love of that kind of care and consideration just because it’s coming from someone other than me?

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHLOE

THEN

TEN YEARS AGO

After showering away the days-old blood and dirt caked on my skin, Kingston carefully helps me dress in one of his T-shirts that drowns my small frame before tucking me into bed.

The mattress is like a cloud, and my aching muscles sob at finally feeling comfort after days in what can only be compared to hell.

The duvet rests over my legs, and he even went as far as tucking a pillow beneath my throbbing hand and aching thumb.

It’s not until he’s certain I’m warm and not about to fall apart that he finally steps away to strip out of his soaking wet suit.

He steps out of the closet in a pair of sweatpants and the same kind of T-shirt he dressed me in, and I can’t help but notice how much he’s changed from the photos I’ve seen of him.

The memory of him faded a long time ago, but he’s no longer the man he was in the photo Caroline refused to remove from beside her bed, even though she could no longer see it.

His shoulders are wider, his arms thicker and more toned. Maybe that’s how he could carry me around all night without breaking a sweat.

But the physical changes aren’t the most startling.

It’s how he carries himself. Confident and sure of every step.

A true leader.

I have a million questions. Where has he been? Why did he leave? Was he responsible for the accident like Salvatore made us believe he was?

But I can’t find the words to voice any of them.

I rest my good hand on my still flat stomach, silently promising the little bean inside me that we’re safe now.

We may have lost everything, but at least we’re free.

Kingston lowers himself to the edge of the bed, careful not to make any sudden movements that might frighten me, but I’m safe here.

I shouldn’t feel so sure of that fact, but he dropped everything to come pick me up and is risking being caught by the Lombardis every second I’m with him.

“The doctor will be here shortly. Do you want something to eat or drink?”

I shake my head. “My stomach is queasy.”

His eyes dip to my hand on my stomach, and he nods in understanding.

I don’t know if what I’m feeling is because of the baby or if it’s the adrenaline crash that never seems to end.

It’s only been a few hours since I slipped the bindings and ran for my life, so it’s possible my body is still coming down from that.

“I want to make sure you eat something before you go to sleep, but we’ll see if the doctor can give you something for the nausea.”

I nod. It’s hard to talk when your entire body trembles violently despite being warm.

The shakes didn’t start until after the shower, but I assume they’re just another part of the trauma my body and mind have been through.

There’s a knock at the bedroom door, making my chest tighten with terror, but when I lock eyes with King, his quiet reassurance keeps me rooted to the bed rather than hiding the way my mind urges me to.

“Come in,” he calls, and a moment later a middle-aged woman with mousy-brown hair steps into the room with a bag over her shoulder and some kind of machine tucked under her arm.

Kind blue eyes meet mine, and she approaches slowly, as if she’s afraid I’m going to bolt.

I probably look like a wounded animal ready to flee, but maybe she’s seen cases like mine before.

“Hi dear, I’m Christine. How are you feeling?”

“Not great,” I admit, dropping my eyes to my swollen hand.

I still can’t believe it worked, can’t believe I dislocated my own thumb to escape death.

“Well, Kingston here tells me you’ve been through a lot the last few days, so that’s perfectly normal.”

I nod, still unable to tear my eyes off my own hand.

“I can see you’ve taken a shower. I’m sure it feels better now you’re clean,” she says as she gently rests the machine on the nightstand and her bag beside Kingston, who still sits on the edge of the bed, his palm resting on my calf like a silent sentinel.

“Would it be okay if you checked on the baby first?” he asks gently. “I think that will make Chloe feel better, right, Mama?”

Tears gather at the corners of my eyes because I was trying to find the words to ask the same thing. How could he possibly know that’s what I needed?

“Of course,” Christine agrees, plugging in the machine she brought in with her and pulling some things from her bag.

I’m no stranger to ultrasounds. I’ve had so many over the years for my endometriosis. But this is the first one I’ve ever had without Ronan holding my hand, and that brings its own unique kind of grief with it.

“Do you know how far along you are, dear?”

I shake my head. “I’m on the pill to help maintain my endometriosis,” I whisper, not trusting my voice with the emotions weighing down on me. “I had the flu about six weeks ago and threw up a few times. I’m assuming that’s when it was ineffective.”

She nods along. “Depending when the fetus was conceived, we may not be able to find a heartbeat just yet, but I can check everything else to make sure it’s looking okay.”

“Thank you.” My voice breaks, a rough sob tearing from my chest.

Ronan should be here.

He should be seeing our baby for the first time with me.

But he’s not, and we may never see him again.

He may never get the chance to meet his child, and my heart can’t handle the idea of a little being half me and half him, the product of our love, that he’ll never get to meet.

Kingston rounds the bed and crawls onto the mattress beside me. His arm wraps around my shoulders as Christine helps me reposition and lift the shirt to expose my belly—the only part of me not riddled with cuts and bruising.

I tuck my head into his shoulder, allowing myself to sink into his comfort as the doctor squirts gel onto my stomach and begins the scan.

The room is quiet, too quiet, and I find myself holding my breath as I wait for what I assume is going to be bad news.

It probably seems silly to want this baby so much considering I have no support system, no money. Hell, I don’t have a single item that belongs to me.

But after years of being told I likely wouldn’t be able to conceive naturally, this baby is a miracle, no matter the circumstances.

Kingston watches the screen over the top of my head, but his body remains calm and free of tension. Is that a good sign? Or is he just good at controlling his reactions?

“Chloe,” the doctor says carefully, and I drag my eyes to hers, my stomach rolling with dread. But then my attention catches on the screen, and I see it.

Our baby.

The little jelly bean is so small I only know what it is because I’ve sat in enough obstetrician waiting rooms to have seen what feels like a million of them.

“Everything looks good right now. You’re around five weeks along, so certainly not out of the danger zone. But you have a little fighter on your hands.”

“Just like their mama,” Kingston whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

I don’t know how I would be doing this without him by my side, but I’ll never be able to repay him for the kindness he’s shown me since the moment he scooped me off the gas station floor.

“Given your history with endometriosis, I would be most comfortable if you saw an OB-GYN sooner rather than later, and you will likely need more monitoring than usual, but it’ll be worth it even if it’s just for your own peace of mind.”

I stare at the screen and allow the grief and gratitude to pool in my chest.

Although I never imagined becoming a mother under such awful circumstances, I already know there’s nothing I won’t do to keep this baby safe.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

RONAN

NOW

It’s not until we reach the cabin that it occurs to me how fucking weird this situation is.

The woman I’ve loved since the moment I realized what the word meant is tucked under the arm of the man I’ve spent most of my life thinking was responsible for the accident that ultimately took my mother’s life, and rather than feeling jealous, I’m at peace knowing she’s safe and that any one of us would throw ourselves in front of a bullet for her.

Including Damon, who has spent the last fifteen years hating her.

Or pretending to, it seems.

I can’t shake the uneasy feeling that’s settled in my chest since my brother appeared at the airfield. There’s something not right about his story, or lack thereof, that isn’t sitting right with me.

Maybe I’m just being paranoid. It’s not like there aren’t an ever-growing number of people that want us dead, but I’ve never questioned my instincts before. Why would I start now?

Kingston leads us into the cabin, and the first thing I notice is the lit fire across the room.

The wooden structure is modest in comparison to the mansion we just fled, but there’s more than enough space for the five of us for a few days.

Chloe steps away from him, her eyes tracking over every detail as she pulls her gloves off.

I’m not entirely sure where we are, but the temperature is significantly lower than it was at the house.

“Is someone here?” Damon growls out, his hand finding his gun in its holster.

“No, my associate lives nearby and lit the fire for us so it would be warm by the time we got here. He also filled the fridge and cupboards so we don’t need to make our way into town while we work out our next steps.”

My brother doesn’t seem convinced, but he moves toward the kitchen. It’s been almost twelve hours since any of us have eaten, and that was just a snack on the jet. I don’t blame him for seeking out food.

Chloe’s brow dips as she watches him. She’s more confused than any of us by Damon’s actions.

He’s been downright cruel to her over the years, and although I’m aware that he visited her in the cellar and what happened while he was down there, he’s still been indifferent toward her.

I used to think he had feelings for her and was just angry that she was mine, but that no longer makes sense. Not when she clearly has feelings for more than just me, and my reaction isn’t to tear their arms off when they touch her. If anything, I’m comforted by Chloe having more than me to tend to her needs.

For years I thought I’d never allow anyone to touch me because Chloe was it for me. I didn’t have any interest in other women, and even when Dad tried to force a wife on me, I couldn’t find it in myself to want them.

I’ve never been as grateful to be shot as I was when one of our intended wives shot us both in the leg so she could escape with the Saint James family.

Believe me, I know how unhinged it is to ever be grateful for a bullet wound, but them escaping is the best thing that could have happened to me, even if Salvatore lost his fucking mind at the time.

His obsession with marrying us off has been mounting for years. Ever since Mikayla called off her wedding to Damon because she couldn’t stand being with someone that would never love her.

It may not have been my brother’s choice, but Dad still punished him as if it were.

Ryker’s eyes track over the doors off the main space, counting four bedrooms and presumably a bathroom. A slow smile tugs at his lips, and I curse myself for not beating him to the chase.

“Dibs sharing with my siren,” he hollers, taking Chloe’s bag from me before I get the chance to argue and stepping into the closest room.

“There will be no dibs’ing Chloe,” Kingston rumbles, but I don’t miss the way the corners of his lips lift just a fraction, amusement dancing in his eyes. “She’s a human, not the passenger seat or the last piece of pizza.”

“Tastes better than any pizza I’ve ever eaten.” He smirks.

Chloe’s cheeks turn the most adorable shade of pink, her eyes dropping to the rug at her feet as Ryker bursts into laughter. I’ve seen glimpses of the jovial side of him while we’ve been searching for her, but if Kingston’s brows are anything to go by, this version of Ryker is new, and likely directly linked to Chloe.

“Jesus,” Damon mutters.

“You’re just jealous because you’re the only one in the room that doesn’t know what she tastes like.”

“Ryker,” Chloe and Kingston snap at the same time.

My brother turns slowly, his eyes burning with barely contained fury.

They’ve been making jabs at each other ever since he joined us, and it was only a matter of time before they came to blows.

“What? It’s true. Some of us can admit to our feelings for members of the opposite sex.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Damon growls, his hands fisted at his sides.

“Don’t like the truth when it smacks you in the face, Lombardi?”

“Ryker,” Chloe says gently. “Don’t.”

“It’s okay, Siren. I just want Grumpy here to admit he’s jealous he’s never tasted your pretty pussy.”

“Jesus Christ,” Kingston mutters, tugging Chloe back against him, I’m assuming to shield her from the fight that’s about to break out in front of us.

“Chloe has more than enough men in her rotation.”

Damon barely gets the final word out before Ryker’s on him.

I may have accepted that Chloe needs more than one of us to feel whole, but it seems my brother is yet to come to that realization.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

DAMON

NOW

Pain blooms across my already sore cheek, but I welcome it.

Being stuck with the people in this room is my worst nightmare, and if the only thing that makes it tolerable is when one of them hits me, I’m okay with that.

Soon enough I’ll be back at the compound, and this will be a distant memory.

Even as I think it, my chest tightens.

Betraying my brother and Chloe doesn’t become an easier pill to swallow with time.

If anything, the longer I spend with them, the more my plan falls apart. Getting them away from Ryker and Kingston is going to be next to impossible, especially considering how they each track her every move like she’s their reason for breathing.

Another fist hits my jaw this time, and I grunt. The fresh bruising from the message my father sent makes this a whole new level of uncomfortable.

“Can’t handle the truth, Ryker?” I growl, blocking his next blow with my aching arm.

I have no excuses for why I threw myself in front of that bullet for Chloe.

I’d like to say it was instinctive, but I can’t think of a single other person I would do the same for. Including my brother.

“Can’t handle that your perfect siren has been handed between the three of you like a fucking joint at a high school party?”

I’m being an asshole. Even more so than usual.

But keeping Chloe at arm’s length has never been more important than it is right now.

I can’t let her get close, because it won’t be long before I hand her over to my father to kill. The more I push her away now, the easier that pill will be to swallow.

Or at least that’s the hope.

Ten years of distance wasn’t enough to permanently erase her from my heart. I can’t see a few days helping, but it’s worth a shot.

Ryker’s amber eyes turn wild with every shitty thing I say about Chloe, and before I get a chance to insult her again, he lands a punch to my gut, stealing the air straight from my lungs.

Thankfully he misses the bruised ribs I already have, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt like a son of a bitch.

“Shut your filthy fucking mouth. Believe me when I say you don’t want to die at my hands,” he grinds out.

“You think I’m afraid of a little torture?” I spit.

He smirks. “What I do to my victims isn’t torture, Lombardi. It’s fucking art. Do you know what a delicate balancing act it is to keep someone in excruciating pain for weeks without letting them bleed out or letting infection riddle their bodies? It took years of practice, but I think for you I could drag it out for months as punishment for everything you’ve put Chloe through.”

Every word out of his mouth is a promise, and I haven’t survived this long in a crime family without being able to identify when someone is a genuine threat to my life.

Who the fuck is this guy?

Kingston carefully hands a trembling Chloe off to Ronan and steps forward, keeping enough distance that he won’t get caught in the crossfire.

“Ry, you’re scaring Chloe,” he says carefully, like he’s speaking to a wild animal rather than an employee.

“Yeah, Ry,” I taunt. “You’re scaring the little traitor.”

His pupils dilate to the point his irises are nothing more than a golden ring as he produces a knife from his pocket.

I can usually pull my gun pretty quickly, but between the bruised ribs and a fresh gunshot wound, I don’t feel so confident.

“Damon, do you know what Ryker does for me?” Kingston asks but doesn’t bother waiting for a response. “He kills people. Shitty people that deserve to die in the most horrendous ways. Serial killers. Rapists. The worst of the worst.” His words are calm, but he never tears his eyes off Ryker. “None of his victims have ever been found, but you’ll have to take my word for how thoroughly he makes them pay for their sins. And that’s for people he doesn’t care about. I’m sure by now you’ve noticed that Ryker doesn’t feel like normal people, but Chloe is the exception to that rule. What do you think he’ll do to you if you hurt the only person he actually cares about?”

I glance over his shoulder at Chloe, whose eyes are wide, but she’s not afraid of the picture he’s painting.

I’ve heard rumblings of a company that does mostly not-for-profit private investigations that always lead to the disappearance of the suspects, but it’s never been on my radar to investigate.

My brother doesn’t seem any more surprised by the revelations than she is, which means they’ve likely had this conversation already.

Nice to be left out of the loop while in the presence of a serial killer.

The new information is going to make my plan harder to execute because it means killing them both to ensure they don’t spend the rest of their lives hunting me.

But it will be worth it once I take the reins of the family.

The position I was born for and have already waited too fucking long to take.

“Whatever,” I snap as I shove myself to my feet and storm toward the back door, ice-cold wind slamming into me the second I’m outside.

The sooner I’m back in Miami, the better.

I fucking hate the cold.

CHAPTER FORTY

CHLOE

NOW

Iexcuse myself into the room Ryker dropped my bag in, closing the door behind me and allowing myself to take deep, calming breaths.

I’m exhausted.

Today has been…emotional and terrifying. A wild fucking ride from start to finish.

I ate a quick dinner that Ronan threw together, and true to his word, when I was in the cellar, he still couldn’t cook to save his life.

The spaghetti wasn’t quite cooked through, and the sauce was a little cold, but I ate it without comment, knowing once my belly was full I could retreat.

I’ve never been more confused and conflicted about my own emotions than I am right now, and although I haven’t seen Damon since he stormed outside an hour ago, I know it’s because of him more than anyone.

As shitty as the things he said about me were, they didn’t come from a place of hatred, and I’m starting to wonder if they ever did.

Was his cruelty toward me a way to protect himself back then?

I shake off the thought and pull out an oversized shirt I’ve taken to sleeping in.

There’s no justification for how Damon has treated me, and I refuse to excuse any of his shitty behavior.

Slipping into bed, I turn onto my side and flick off the light, making the room fall into complete darkness.

The quiet is deafening out here. No cars in the distance. No appliances humming. Outside these walls there’s nothing but wilderness for miles, and I’m as comforted by that as I am unnerved.

There’s also the worry that the four men on the other side of the door are going to kill each other while I’m not there as a buffer, but I try not to let that thought get to me.

They’re adults, and the fact that they’ve gotten into multiple arguments in the brief time they’ve spent together is their own issue to work through.

Or at least that’s what I tell myself.

I should be reveling in my alone time after an emotionally charged day, but I find myself missing them now there’s a door between us, and that’s all I need to know I’m fucked.

Because there’s no reality where I have a happily ever after with all four of them, and that means I’m destined to have my heart broken into four pieces.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

RONAN

NOW

Ichecked on Damon a little while ago under the guise of handing him the shitty bowl of pasta I made.

He’s fine. Licking his wounds and insisting he doesn’t give a fuck about Chloe.

The problem is, my brother may be the master of shielding his emotions, but I see right through those walls he builds. I was too blind when we were kids, too wrapped up with being in love to realize Damon had those same feelings for her. He just never knew how to deal with them.

Ryker and Kingston sit on the couch, their bodies leaning over a small table covered in documents and maps.

It’s weird as hell being here with the man I’ve held responsible for Mom’s accident all these years, but the more secrets that are uncovered, the more confident I am that there’s more to the story.

The man in question glances up and nods for me to join them. He doesn’t stop talking as he fills a third glass of amber liquid and slides it across the table to me.

“Thanks,” I say, trying to tune into the conversation they’re having.

We’ve all but ruled out my family being responsible for the attack. After checking all the bodies, Damon and I couldn’t identify a single one of them, making it unlikely to have been Dad.

If it was anyone else, I’d consider the idea of hired mercenaries, but Salvatore Lombardi is the most paranoid man I’ve ever met. He wouldn’t trust a job like this to someone outside the family.

Which most likely means it’s one of Kingston’s enemies.

And boy, does he have a lot.

Hawk Security is responsible for the deaths of more than their fair share of high-profile criminals. From cartel leaders to shady senators getting their rocks off hurting innocent women, Kingston has coordinated their downfalls. The options are endless.

Ryker leans back and tugs a laptop onto his lap, his fingers flying over the keyboard quicker than I can track them.

As well as being a ruthless murderer, he’s also one of the best hackers I’ve ever encountered.

“Do you have a recent list of the hits the team has carried out?” he asks, not bothering to look up at Kingston.

“The team?” The words escape before I get the chance to stop them.

“Ryker does most of the…complex cases, but we have four other guys that work for us. They were trained by The Hunter back when he was doing hits.”

“The Hunter?” I ask, my brows lifting into my hairline.

That masked asshole in Los Angeles has caused us more issues over the years than I can count, but I never realized he trained anyone to take his place.

He nods, handing a list to Ryker before he responds. “We don’t have much to do with him now, but the guys still see him from time to time.”

The soft taps of Ryker’s fingers on the keyboard and the crackling of the fire make for a soothing background noise, and for the first time in what feels like months, I allow myself to relax.

Ever since Chloe stepped back into my life, things have been so chaotic I haven’t been able to rest completely.

But she’s safe here.

Because if there’s one thing I know with absolute certainty, it’s that every single one of us would put our lives on the line for her.

Damon included.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

CHLOE

NOW

Cool air rushes around me as the blankets are lifted behind me, but a moment later, my back is covered by a warm body.

A very naked warm body.

Ryker’s signature scent wraps around me like a warm hug, and I allow myself to relax into his arms.

I thought I’d be able to sleep after all the excitement of the day, but despite how exhausted I am, sleep never came.

“You’re wearing too much,” he murmurs, trailing kisses along my shoulder.

“I’m wearing a shirt,” I retort.

“A shirt that doesn’t belong to me, which means it’s too much.”

A soft laugh falls from my throat at how ridiculous he’s being. “So you’re telling me if this shirt belonged to you that you’d be okay with me wearing it to bed?”

“For the purpose of this discussion, yes.” His lips tip into a smile against my throat, and my own makes my cheeks ache.

I have no idea how he managed to worm his way into my heart, but he’s become my safe place. The one I seek out when the world feels a little too loud.

“I missed you,” I admit.

“God, I missed you so fucking much, Siren. I was going out of my mind.”

“More so than usual?” I giggle, earning me a rough chuckle.

“Oh, you have no idea.”

The arm banded around my middle slides down until tattooed fingers find my barely there underwear.

I had to have a quick shower before we left the house because I was still covered in Kingston’s cum, and it seemed wrong to get into a helicopter with all of them smelling like him. I picked up the first pair of underwear I could reach in my rush, and that turned out to be a thong that I’m still questioning whether it can be considered panties.

Two fingers find my clit, still aching from not being allowed to come earlier. “I missed your pretty pussy as well, Siren. I should have known the first time I felt your cunt clench around my fingers that I’d crave it for the rest of my life.”

A soft moan escapes at his filthy words.

“How long has Kingston been depriving my sweet siren?” he murmurs.

“He hasn’t let me come,” I admit. “He keeps edging me, but he never lets me fall.”

“Has he fucked you?”

“No,” I reply immediately, my hips moving in time with his fingers.

“My poor girl,” he croons.

Ryker dips his fingers lower, moving through the evidence of my arousal with a deep rumble.

“So wet for me, Siren.”

“Please,” I whimper. “Please let me come.”

“Such a good girl asking for what you need.”

Two long fingers dip into my aching heat, the stretch adding to how desperate my body is for the pleasure it’s been denied for days.

“You gotta be quiet for me, Siren. Unless you want an audience, of course. I know how hard you came when I fucked you out in the open with Ronan watching.”

The reminder makes my chest tighten. At the time it was an act of revenge, but now? Now the idea of one of them watching Ryker fuck me adds to my growing desire.

Repressing my sex drive all those years after I escaped has made me a mess of need now that I’ve awoken it again.

He chuckles against the shell of my ear. “What do you think King would do if he walked in right now?”

“He’d probably lose it,” I whine, my hips moving in time with Ryker’s too-slow pumps. He’s building me up, making sure the release I’ve been desperate for is worth the wait. But I need more.

I need everything.

“He’s not very good at sharing, it seems.”

“And you are?” I challenge.

“I’m very good at getting what I want, and if that means making a compromise like sharing, I won’t hesitate.” His lips drag up my throat until they rest against the shell of my ear. “Is that what you imagine at night, Siren? Being passed around between the four of us? Us using you for our own pleasure and dragging orgasm after orgasm from your perfect body?”

I bite down on the inside of my cheek to catch the moan that tries to escape, but my body tells him everything he needs to know. I clench around his fingers, the fantasy that’s lingered in the back of my mind the last week.

“Dirty girl,” Ryker muses, dragging his fingers over the front wall of my pussy, finding the perfect spot to bring me right to the edge. “Did Ronan ever fuck your ass when you were teenagers?”

“Yes,” I moan. “Just once.”

“Did you like it?”

“It was…different.”

“Hmm. Well, if you’re going to take all four of us, we’ll need to get you used to having something in your perfect ass.”

Ryker shifts his hips, pressing his very hard length against my bare thigh and leaving a trail of precum on my skin.

“Once we’ve trained your ass, we’ll move on to your pussy. I bet you’ll fucking love being stuffed full of our cocks.”

There’s no catching the moan that tumbles from my lips at the picture he’s painting.

“Jesus, Chloe,” Ryker groans. “Your pussy is clenching so hard I can barely move my fingers. Such a needy girl.”

“Please,” I sob. “I need to come. Please, Ry.”

“Hmm, it’s okay with me, but you’ll need permission from him as well.”

My eyes shoot open and meet familiar green ones.

Ronan stands on the edge of the bed in front of me, his hard length pressing against his boxer briefs.

I expect to see the same pain as the night at the motel, but he’s not looking at me with hurt.

His eyes are filled with barely contained need.

“Do you need to come, Sparrow?”

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

RONAN

NOW

Watching them together is perhaps the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

The way she leans into him, putting her body and trust into his hands without hesitation.

Ryker seems to know her every need before she does and delivers swiftly so she never has to beg.

If you’d asked me at any moment before this one if I thought I’d be okay watching another man fuck Chloe, the answer would have been absolutely the fuck not.

But how could I ever deprive her of this?

My girl has known so much pain. How could I not want the rest of her—of our—lives to be filled with pleasure?

“Do you need to come, Sparrow?” I rumble, my voice thick with my own arousal.

Her eyes flash with worry, but I lean across the mattress, brushing my thumb over her cheek in reassurance.

“You know I’ll always keep you safe, Siren,” Ryker reminds her. “I’ll never put you in a position where anyone can hurt you, especially when you’re vulnerable like this.”

Her pouty bottom lip disappears between her teeth, and for a moment I wonder if she’s going to put a stop to everything.

“Ro, I need to come so badly,” she whimpers. “Please.”

Seeing her like this again is a lesson in control. A delicate balancing act between giving her everything she wants and dragging out her pleasure as long as possible.

Lifting the blankets, I slip between them and slide over until she’s trapped between us.

My fingers find her chin, tipping her face up until she’s forced to look up at me. “I’m sure you can beg better than that, Sparrow.”

She sucks in a breath that makes my cock jump. I’ve missed those little gasps, the soft moans, and her screams of pleasure.

I’ve missed everything about her, and I can barely believe she’s in my arms again, even if it’s not my hands bringing her pleasure.

“Oh fuck.” Her hips jerk against Ryker’s hand as she fights the release he’s beckoning to the surface. “Please, Ronan. I need to come so badly it hurts. Please let me come. Please don’t make me wait anymore.”

“Good girl,” I murmur, pressing a gentle kiss to her pouty lips.

The sound of his fingers fucking her fills the room right along her quiet moans.

Part of me wants to make her scream. I want Damon and Kingston to know what they’re missing by being assholes, but the other part isn’t ready to share her with them as well.

“I can’t hold it,” she cries. “Please. Please. Fuck. Please.”

“Come for us, Siren. I want you to soak my hand. Give me everything, baby.”

Her lips part as she tumbles over the edge she’s been riding since before I stepped into the room, but before her scream can fill the quiet cabin, I lean forward and take her lips in a brutal kiss.

Ryker whispers praise as he drags every ounce of pleasure from her body while I swallow her cries, reveling in the feel of her hands on my chest, clutching at me like she’ll fall if I don’t hold her up.

But the truth is, when we’re at her side, we’ll never let her fall.

“Good girl,” he croons. “Our very good girl.”

She whimpers when he withdraws his fingers, her pussy sensitive from her release after being edged for days.

Ryker brings his slick-coated fingers to his lips, holding my gaze as he dips them into his mouth and groans when her pussy explodes on his tongue. “Your asshole brother doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

I choke on a laugh, dragging my own fingers through her wetness and doing the same.

It’s been too fucking long since I’ve tasted my girl, but she’s every bit as addictive as she was when we were stupid kids exploring each other’s bodies.

The first time I went down on her, barely sixteen and armed with nothing more than a dirty magazine I found in Dad’s office for instructions, I knew I’d never get enough of eating her perfect cunt.

Ryker wraps his tattooed fingers around her throat, tipping her head to the side to give her a gentle kiss. “You want to stop, Siren?”

Her eyes widen, but there’s no shortage of heat staring back at us. “You want to keep going?”

“Fuck yes.” He chuckles. “But if you’re overwhelmed or aren’t sure, you can be the middle of a cuddle sandwich, and we can all get some much-needed sleep.”

Chloe lets out the most adorable snicker at the description, but heat lingers in her eyes, the moonlight beaming through the window making it impossible for her to hide her reactions from us.

“I want to keep going,” she whispers. “I’m not ready to lose this yet.”

Cupping her cheek in my palm, I tilt her head back until her eyes meet mine. “You’re not losing anything, Chloe. I’ve lived too much of my life without you. I’m not willing to give you up, and if that means sharing you with someone else, it’s not even close to a hard choice.”

Her eyes widen in surprise, but before she gets the chance to reply, Ryker shoves the blankets to the end of the bed.

“You want Ronan to fuck your pussy, baby?” he asks, helping her roll onto her hands and knees. “I’ve been dying to know what your mouth feels like wrapped around my cock.”

He gives his length a few lazy pumps, drawing a soft gasp from her lips.

“Did that hurt?” she asks.

“Fuck yeah. But I couldn’t have my entire body tattooed and leave him out, could I?”

Curiosity gets the best of me, and my own eyes widen when I see the grayscale roses and thorns adorning his cock.

“Good thing I left the spot over my heart free, though,” he muses. “Can’t have Ronan being the only one with you tattooed on him.”

“You can’t do that,” she argues. “What if things don’t work out between us?”

“Oh, things will be working out, Siren. I have no intention of ever letting you go.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

CHLOE

NOW

His words wash over me, and my stupid heart does a flip at what sounded a lot like a threat.

“Oh, things will be working out, Siren. I have no intention of ever letting you go.”

It’s naive to think that things can work out between us.

Camilla’s situation is so different from this one, not least because the guys were already a unit long before they met her.

And how is it fair for me to expect them to put their grievances to the side just to make me happy?

I don’t get a chance to argue before Ronan is behind me, tipping my hips up in line with his cock while Ryker shoves a pillow beneath me.

“Do you want me to wear a condom?”

I shake my head. “I have an IUD, and I’ve only been with Ryker since the last time with you.”

Silence fills the room, and I glance over my shoulder at the man I’ve spent a decade longing for. Even when I thought he hated me, even when I believed he may have known what his father was planning to do to me, I never stopped needing him.

His eyes are filled with emotions I can’t place as he drags a gentle hand down my bare back. The oversized shirt gathered around my shoulders.

Ronan swallows heavily. “I haven’t been with anyone since you.”

My lips part in surprise. “No one?”

“No one else was ever you, Sparrow. I never gave up on finding you, and even if I had, the idea of another woman touching me made my skin crawl.”

My chest tightens as tears gather in my eyes, my own emotions running rampant through my chest.

He gives me a soft smile. “Waiting for you to come back to me was the only thing that made sense.”

“You two are sickeningly cute,” Ryker comments, reminding me of the compromising position I’m currently in.

“You’re going to have to up your game, bodyguard.” Ronan smirks, dragging his cock through my aching heat.

“Last time I checked, you’ve never spent seven hours in the trunk of a sedan.”

“I think that’s closer to stalker behavior than cute.”

He shrugs, and I can’t help but giggle. The two of them bickering is kind of sweet, and for the first time I allow myself to think things could work out between the three of us.

Damon and Kingston may be an impossible sell, but I think I could feel complete without them, even if my heart will always long for two parts of itself.

“Oh, you think that’s funny, Siren?” He smirks down at me. “How about we put those pouty lips to better use?”

I nod, dragging my bottom lip between my teeth as he positions himself in front of me.

Up close, his cock is as beautiful as it is intimidating, the contrast between thorns and roses making me desperate to taste him.

Flicking my tongue over his tip, I groan as the taste of his precum bursts across my taste buds.

“Jesus,” Ronan murmurs, sinking inch by inch into my needy pussy. “So fucking tight. You’re taking me so well, Sparrow.”

I clench around him as his praise washes over me.

Ryker brushes tendrils of hair from my cheeks, gathering the strands at the base of my skull as I swirl my tongue around his head.

It’s been a long fucking time since I’ve given head, but what I lack in recent experience, I make up for in desperate enthusiasm.

“Your tongue is making me see stars, Chloe. Can you take a little for me, baby girl?” Ryker presses his hips forward at the same time Ronan bottoms out, and I feel so impossibly full I can barely make sense of where I end and they begin.

I gag when he presses against the back of my throat, and he retreats immediately, giving me a few seconds to catch my breath before slipping back between my lips.

I’m overwhelmed in the best way, every nerve ending firing with pleasure as they find a rhythm that works for them.

Ryker pushes to the back of my throat again, holding himself in place as I lap at the underside of his cock. “Take a deep breath for me, and then I want you to swallow when you feel like you’re going to gag. Can you do that for me, Chlo?”

I nod around him, my eyes watering as Ronan’s thrusts increase in intensity, driving us both closer to release.

Following Ryker’s instructions, I pull in a breath as he presses forward, forcing my body to relax as I swallow around the head of his cock, and this time I don’t gag.

A guttural moan fills the quiet alongside the slap of Ronan’s thighs hitting my ass with every thrust.

Ryker slips into my throat with ease, holding himself there for a handful of seconds before retreating to allow me to breathe.

He repeats the process again, this time slipping deeper, but he never looks away from my eyes. He knows when I need a break, even before I do, and never fails to notice when my body begins to panic.

“I’m close,” Ronan warns from behind me, his thrusts becoming shorter and more urgent with each retreat. His fingers find my clit, driving me closer to the edge I’ve been riding since they slipped inside me.

“You ready to be filled with our cum, Siren?” Ryker asks, swiping a bead of precum along my bottom lip as he gives himself a few brutal pumps.

“Yes,” I whine. “Please.”

“Holy fuck,” Ronan rumbles.

“Such a perfect little set of holes for us, aren’t you, baby girl?”

His words are all it takes to throw me over the edge into an orgasm unlike any I’ve ever had. Dark spots burst into my vision, my body locking tight around Ronan as he shouts his own release.

Ryker slips between my lips, pumping his hand over his length as I desperately lap at the head, and he doesn’t make me wait long. Thick ropes of cum land across my tongue, and I swallow them greedily, unwilling to waste a single drop of his release.

“Look at you, so desperate to take our cum. You’re perfect to be shared, Siren. Perfect to be used like the pretty little whore you are.”

I sob as fresh waves of release wash over me.

Ronan throbs inside me, holding himself as deep as he can get as his fingers clutch my ass so tight I’m sure I’ll have fingerprints bruised into the soft flesh when we wake up.

We collapse in a pile, our bodies spent from the intense pleasure.

They each drop a kiss to my bare skin as they catch their breath, and I curl against Ryker, fatigue weighing down on me.

I may have been struggling to sleep before, but I doubt I’m going to have any trouble after that workout.

“You’re perfect, Siren.”

I smile against his bare chest, reveling in the way Ronan wraps around my back.

A door slams somewhere in the cabin, and they each chuckle.

“Which one do you think it was?” Ronan asks.

“Damon for sure. That guy has been repressing his need for our girl for most of his life by the sound of it.”

Our girl.

I repeat the words over and over as I allow sleep to drag me under, not bothering to rein in my hopeful heart.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

RYKER

NOW

Ispend a lot of time in cabins like this one.

Although this one is significantly nicer than the ones I use to kill my targets.

Regardless, I’ve missed the serene mornings. The sound of birds chirping in the trees on the other side of the windows.

Burying my face in Chloe’s auburn locks, I drag in her scent, reveling in finally having her back in my arms.

I’m a stubborn motherfucker, and I was never going to allow her to slip through my fingers, but the last couple of weeks without her have been as close to hell as I’ve been in a long time.

Ronan stirs on her other side, rolling onto his back to stretch out his muscles. Our girl didn’t move at all through the night, which means we didn’t either. I can’t speak for him, but I couldn’t have dragged myself away from her soft body even if I’d wanted to. Which I didn’t.

I could spend the rest of my life in this bed worshipping Chloe.

“Morning,” he rumbles, rolling back onto his side to brush his fingers through her hair.

Pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, I carefully roll her onto her other side so she’s resting on his chest before slipping from the bed.

If I ever want a chance at spending long days in bed with her, sustaining myself on her pussy alone, I need to ensure every threat to her life is eliminated.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“I need to talk to Kingston about making sure we’re secure here.”

I shove my legs into my discarded sweats and tug a shirt that I’m not convinced belongs to me over my head.

It doesn’t matter. If we’re going to share a girl, we may as well share clothes as well.

“She’ll keep sleeping if you stay with her,” I tell him when he looks conflicted about getting up as well.

If I have it my way, Chloe will never be alone again. One of us will always be with her to ensure she’s safe and happy.

But to make that happen, I have to get the other two assholes on board with sharing her.

Kingston won’t be as hard a sell as you would think. He’s pined after her for years and rearranged his entire life to make room for her. He’s not going to give her up just because he’s not the only one she wants.

The other Lombardi brother is the problem.

Damon has spent so many years repressing his feelings for Chloe that it’s going to take a lot of pushing to make him snap.

It’s a good thing I enjoy getting on people’s nerves.

Once I’m dressed, I allow myself one more look at my siren before slipping into the living room, where I find two tired-looking men at the counter, each with a coffee in hand.

A cocky smirk tugs at my lips as I wander into the kitchen, making myself a cup and taking a sip of the bitter liquid.

“Sleep well?” I chime.

“You’re an asshole,” King growls.

“I’m sorry our girl’s screams kept you awake. Maybe next time you’ll come in and join us.”

“You should gag her next time. I don’t need to hear that shit,” Damon grumbles.

My grin widens. “Oh, she was gagged.”

“Ryker,” my boss warns, his grip on his mug tightening.

“I’m just saying Chloe wouldn’t have been opposed to you joining. Maybe next time you can help me keep her quiet.”

The fist comes before I can duck out of the way, hitting my jaw so hard my neck snaps back.

“Didn’t know you had it in you, Lombardi,” I snap, ducking out of the way before he can land another blow.

Kingston mutters and steps out of the kitchen, lingering close by in case he has to break us up.

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up,” Damon growls.

“Didn’t you like being reminded of what you’ve been depriving yourself of?” I prod, dodging another advance and putting the end of the counter between us when I notice his gaze flicker to the knife by the sink.

A punch is one thing, but I don’t want to freak Chloe out by getting myself stabbed.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he grinds out.

“Really? Because you took a bullet for her yesterday. I personally wouldn’t put my life at risk for someone I hate.”

I catch Kingston massaging his temple out of the corner of my eye, his gaze darting to the room I stepped out of a few minutes ago.

“It was instinctive.”

“Sure it was.” I chuckle.

“It was!”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You’re fucking insufferable.”

“Pot meet kettle, asshole.”

“That’s enough,” Kingston finally says. “Damon, it’s very clear you have feelings for Chloe beyond hatred. I think the only person in this cabin unaware of those feelings is her.” He turns his attention on me. “You need to stop badgering him, or he’s going to stab you in your sleep. How do you think Chloe would feel about that?”

“I don’t know. She’s a lot kinkier than I thought she’d be, so maybe she wouldn’t have an issue with a bit of blood play.”

Kingston pinches the bridge of his nose, but I don’t miss the way the corners of his lips tip up in a barely there smile.

“Jesus Christ,” Damon growls, storming toward the door without bothering to take his jacket.

If he wants to get frostbite, that’s his business.

The door slams, causing the walls to shake with the force, and I pull my attention back to Kingston’s glare.

“Do not get her hopes up that things will work out between all of us, Ryker. Because if you break her heart, I will break you. Don’t forget who taught you the worst of your tactics.”

He’s gone before I can respond, trailing after Damon, grabbing two coats from the rack by the door.

Turning my back on the door, I make quick work of pouring two more cups of coffee, adding an ungodly amount of sugar and creamer to Chloe’s, just the way she likes.

I guess there’s more time for cuddles if those two are on guard duty outside.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

KINGSTON

NOW

Ifind Damon a few yards from the porch, his arms crossed over his chest as he stares out at the tree line.

It’s freezing up here at this time of the year and certainly too cold to be out here without a coat.

Stepping up beside him, I hold out the coat, and for a moment I think he might reject it, but as stubborn as he may be, he’s not stupid.

“Thanks,” he rumbles, tugging the zipper up with more force than is required.

He’s pissed, and I can’t say I blame him.

Ryker was out of line and being intentionally obtuse about a situation we know little about. Hell, not even Chloe knows why he pulled away from her all those years ago.

As kids, the three of them were inseparable. There wasn’t one without the other two, much to Salvatore’s disgust.

But Caroline loved it. She always wanted a daughter, and Chloe filled that void for her.

He wanted his sons to be soldiers from the moment they were born, and if he could have, he would have started training them as soon as they could walk.

Thankfully, his love for their mother protected them, giving them a normal childhood for as long as possible. Or at least as close to a normal childhood as you can get growing up in a Mafia family.

“How’s your arm?” I ask. “I’ll replace the bandages for you after you’ve showered.”

“I can do it.”

I sigh. “But you don’t have to.”

“I don’t need your help, Kingston. If anything, I need you six feet under.”

His words hurt more than they should. Both brothers have been poisoned against me, and I’ve known that for a long time. But knowing something and seeing it firsthand are two vastly different things.

“Because of your mom’s accident?” I ask.

“Because you killed her,” he retorts.

I swallow the need to snap back. To tell him point-blank that I wasn’t responsible for the accident.

But it won’t help. Not without context, and he won’t believe it until he realizes how many lies his father has told him over the years.

“The day of the accident, your mom was going to meet with a lawyer about filing for divorce. She wasn’t happy, and she didn’t want you boys to have no other choice than to follow in his footsteps.

“I’m sure you remember I was rarely at the compound back then, and although your mom and Neil were my best friends, Salvatore didn’t like that his wife and number two were close with someone else.”

I shake my head, letting out a little huff at how childish this part of the story is.

“Salvatore never hit Caroline, but he could be cruel, a trait it seems you’ve unfortunately inherited.” I don’t pause to allow for his denial. “I chose to stay away so that she wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences of our friendship. But this one day she called and asked me to drive her somewhere. She had her own personal driver, and she’d never asked me to do anything like that before, so I didn’t ask questions. I just got in the car and went to pick her up.

“It wasn’t until we were halfway to the city that she told me she was going to meet with a lawyer.”

“You’re lying,” Damon growls.

“I wish I was.” I swallow, bracing myself to tell him about one of the worst days of my life, second only to the day I found Chloe unresponsive in a pool of blood. “Unlike your father, I never had an interest in fast cars. If something was going to take me out, it wasn’t going to be a car accident. But when you kids or your mom were in my car on rare occasions, I took extra care, and the day of the accident was no exception.

“The light was green when I entered the intersection. I’ve replayed that moment countless times over the years, even going as far as hacking into the city’s traffic cameras to make sure. I didn’t run a red light, but the person that hit us did it intentionally, and hitting your mother’s door was the aim.”

“You can’t possibly know that.”

“I can show you the footage if you think it would help, but I’ve had analysts look it over, and they confirmed my suspicions.”

“Why would you do that if you never had any intention of coming back?”

“Because I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I were responsible for my only family being hurt. It was my own selfish need to not be at fault that made me obsess over it for years,” I admit. “And by the time I had proof, it was too late.

“Salvatore had every man that worked for him tracking me, he’d turned you and your brother against me, and Caroline was trapped in that house with a man she didn’t love. In that time, I’d built Hawk Security and there was nothing left for me in Miami. I cut ties with everyone, starting a new life and trying my hardest not to look back.”

“Until Chloe called you.”

I shake my head. “I came back to Miami one other time, for your mom’s funeral. It didn’t matter how much danger it put me in, I couldn’t miss it. I already held so much guilt about missing those years of her life, not being there for her while she recovered and while she navigated her new life. I didn’t help her escape a marriage she didn’t want to be in anymore. And I didn’t save you boys from your father. I failed her over and over again, but I refused to miss saying goodbye.”

His cold eyes flick to me for the first time, searching for insincerity he won’t find. I’ll never regret anything the way I regret not doing more for my best friend.

“When Chloe called, she sounded so scared. So broken. I dropped everything and flew to Miami to pick her up, because even if you boys had turned on her, I knew Caroline would want me to take care of her.”

He swallows heavily, forcing his attention back to the line of plush green in front of us. “You think I’m just going to believe everything you say?”

“No,” I reply. “But maybe you should think about all the lies Salvatore has told you and your brother over the years. How he framed Chloe as a traitor when she was a scared eighteen-year-old carrying his grandchild. And perhaps you should consider the only person that benefited from your mother’s accident.”

I turn on my heel before he can respond. All I can do is plant the seed. He has to do the rest.

I’ve never been more convinced Salvatore orchestrated the accident, including using me as the perfect scapegoat.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

CHLOE

NOW

Iblink my eyes open and find Ronan staring down at me, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Rustling behind me draws my attention to Ryker, who sips at a cup of coffee, his amber eyes watching me intently.

“Are you both watching me sleep?” I yawn.

“Sure were, Siren.” He reaches behind him as I sit up, tugging the sheets up to cover myself. I may have had them both inside me last night, but that doesn’t mean I’m not self-conscious sitting between two men that look like they live at the gym.

Ryker hands me a mug, and I can smell the sugar among the bitterness.

I take a long sip and groan. Just as I suspected. Perfect.

“I don’t know how you drink that with so much sugar. There comes a point when it’s no longer coffee, and that surpassed the point three teaspoons ago.”

“She’s always had it the same,” Ronan tells him. “Her Starbucks order is just as horrifying.”

“Oh, I know. I can’t bring myself to say it. I have to order on the app and then wear a ball cap and glasses when I pick it up so no one thinks I’m the one drinking that monstrosity.” He shivers dramatically.

“Can you two stop picking on my taste in coffee?” I snap, but the smile that I can’t manage to wipe from my face gives me away.

It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this carefree. This safe.

This happy.

“Not until you start drinking it properly.” Ryker chuckles.

I roll my eyes but don’t bother arguing. It’s two against one, and I don’t necessarily disagree with them. By most people’s standards, my coffee order is ridiculous.

But I like what I like, and I’m not willing to give it up.

“Are the others up?”

“Yep. Grumpy and Asshole are outside having a deep and meaningful talk, the last I checked.”

“Are you sure they aren’t killing each other?” I worry my lip. Having the four of them in a small space is a bad idea given the amount of animosity they each harbor.

“Neither of them has a weapon, so I think we’re in the clear.”

“Have you made any progress on who attacked the house yesterday?”

Ryker shakes his head. “We feel fairly confident it wasn’t anyone Salvatore sent, although we haven’t completely ruled it out. Right now we’re focusing on keeping you safe, and everything else is secondary.”

“Will we move somewhere else today?”

“We’ll be here a few days,” Ronan tells me. “Kingston is confident we’re off the grid enough that no one will be able to find us and that there’s no way whoever attacked could have tracked the helicopter. Lying low here gives us a chance to look into who attacked us while also keeping you out of harm’s way.”

“Is Damon going to be okay locked up here with all of us? I know how much he hates…actually all of us apart from you.”

“I don’t think I’m exempt from that hatred after last night.” Ronan smirks.

“Oh, definitely not. Someone was very grumpy this morning.” Ryker lifts his head slightly, giving me a glimpse at the bruises blossoming across his jaw.

“You did antagonize him,” Ronan points out.

“Ryker,” I groan.

“That guy has a stick up his ass the size of the fucking Titanic. I’m just helping to dislodge it.”

It’s another hour before Damon finally comes back inside, ignoring the three of us at the table. He pours himself a bowl of sugary cereal and milk before leaning on the counter rather than joining us.

We haven’t seen Kingston since we emerged either, but we’re pretty sure he’s working in his bedroom.

Ryker opens his mouth to say something but stops himself when both Ronan and I glare at him. He’s done enough meddling this morning, and if Damon were outside speaking to Kingston as well, he’s probably close to the edge.

I assume they were speaking about Caroline’s accident, a story that still breaks my heart every time I think about it.

I don’t need anyone to give me proof to tell me Salvatore orchestrated the entire thing, because that’s what he did to my parents as well.

When people become a threat to what he wants, he makes sure they can’t escape him.

“Do you want to sit down, Damon?” I ask softly.

His eyes flicker up to meet mine, and I force myself to hold them. I’ve spent too much time bowing down to him, I have no intention of continuing that pattern. “It’s a little crowded over there.”

I glance at the three empty seats before looking back to him with a small smile. “Sure it is.”

“You got something to say, Duchess?” He pushes to his full height.

I shake my head. “Nope.”

Ryker snickers, earning him a kick beneath the table from Ronan.

I’m going to have my hands full with the two of them, it seems.

“You could have at least put more clothing on,” Damon snaps.

I glance down at the T-shirt that covers my body with my brows raised. “Sure thing, D.”

His eyes flare at the nickname I haven’t used for years.

Turning my attention back to my breakfast, I take a bite and pretend not to notice the way his attention lingers on me.

“You know you’re over your daily recommended sugar intake between that bowl and the monstrosity you call coffee, and it’s only nine in the morning,” Ryker says, breaking the tense quiet.

“You poured both things for me,” I remind him. “Is this what the future looks like? You criticizing every gram of sugar I consume?”

A smile tugs at his lips, and I realize what I said. Future. A thing I haven’t let myself consider in such a long time. Living life on the run isn’t conducive to a full life, and yet somehow, in such a short time, I’ve allowed myself to think about what the rest of my life could look like.

With them.

“It’s okay, Sparrow. I’ll make sure you’re sugared up each day.” Ronan grins, giving my thigh a squeeze beneath the table.

Metal clinks loudly, and I glance up to see Damon clutching the bench like it’s the only thing stopping himself from launching over it.

“Thanks, Ro.” I lean over and kiss his cheek.

It’s a shitty thing to do, pushing Damon like this. But after years of cruelty, years of insults and jabs, it feels a little too good to finally get some revenge.

A door opens on the other side of the cabin, and I turn to see Kingston step out of the room with his coat on. His eyes scan the room, noting Ronan’s hand on my bare thigh and the shirt that belongs to him still hanging from my body, before he sucks in a breath and steps toward the door.

“Ronan, you’re with me today.”

“Where are we going?” he asks, pushing himself to his feet slowly.

“You’re not planning on killing him, are you, boss?” Ryker asks. “I only ask because my siren is attached to him, and I’d rather you didn’t upset her when she finally has a real smile on her face.”

We each turn to him in surprise. Tears gather at the corners of my eyes, but not because I’m upset. It’s because he noticed that all the smiles I used to give were a farce, and for the first time since I escaped the cellar when I was eighteen, my smiles are real.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

RONAN

NOW

This is weird.

There’s no other way to describe being alone with your godfather after almost two decades. All of which I spent hating him for taking my mom away, something I’m no longer confident is the full truth.

I wasn’t old enough when the accident happened to understand the gravity of what Dad was telling us, and after he lost his mind when Mom asked for King not long after the accident, I knew better than to ask any questions.

But the one thing that never made sense to me was that she always kept a photo of them beside her bed, even though it drove Dad mad.

If he were responsible for her accident, would she want that reminder beside her while she slept each night, even if she had lost her sight?

It never sat right with me, but questioning Dad only ever ended one way, and I learned quickly that I was better off accepting whatever he told me as gospel.

He’s in the driver’s seat as we make our way to a town an hour away from the cabin. He was kind of vague about what we were doing, but I’m pretty sure he’s not using this as an excuse to kill me.

“Was it you I spoke to when I called Hawk Security looking for Chloe?” I ask after forty minutes of silence.

It didn’t click until I had Chloe fast asleep in my arms this morning, but now I have to know if my suspicions are true.

“It was. I knew you’d call eventually, and I wanted to give you what little peace of mind I could.” He glances over the SUV that appeared out of nowhere this morning, his dark eyes open and unguarded. “I wanted to believe that you had nothing to do with what happened to her, but I couldn’t take the chance. So I gave you what I could at the time.”

“Why didn’t you tell me she lost the baby?”

“It wasn’t my place to give you that information. I honestly thought Chloe would find a way to reach out eventually, to let you know what happened. But she was scared.”

I nod. Now that I’m able to look at everything with a clear head, I can understand why she never contacted me. It would have been a risk, and putting herself back on Dad’s radar would have been the last thing she wanted to do.

“Thank you for taking care of her through all of that.” I swallow down the emotion that tries to push to the surface. “I would have given anything to be there for her, but I’m just glad she wasn’t going through it alone.”

“It was my privilege to hold her through those days.” His voice is thick, and I don’t miss the way his eyes glisten.

Men like us aren’t supposed to show emotion. It’s not the way of the Mafia man. But Chloe has a funny way of bringing a softer side of us out.

“Why didn’t you stay with her at the time?” I ask. “It’s clear you care for her, why did you send her away to the De Marcos?”

“It wasn’t safe for her at the time. Hawk was still in its infancy, and I was gathering more enemies by the day. After everything she went through, she deserved to be safe. I’d known John De Marco a long time, and I knew he had the resources to keep her safe. I never could have dreamed how healing it would be for her to help raise Camilla after losing the baby.”

My chest tightens at the reminder of the child we never got to meet.

Sometimes when I’m alone, unable to sleep and staring at the ceiling, I allow myself to think about what could have been.

It used to hurt so fucking much, but at my lowest, it reminded me what happiness felt like. What love felt like.

I’d imagine that Chloe and I went to college. I’d think about sunny afternoons in the Californian sun, lying in the grass with my hand on her swollen belly.

My mind would wander to how my love for Chloe would have grown watching her bring our child into the world, and then to the little being itself. Sometimes my mind would conjure a little girl with bright green eyes and vibrant auburn hair like her mom, and other times it was a little boy with Chloe’s nose and my hair.

But we were always happy. In every version of my own imagination, our lives were perfect because we had each other.

If there’s one thing I’ll never forgive my father for, it’s how much time we lost.

I’m dragged back from my thoughts when we turn toward our destination.

“We need to pick up some burners and a few other things. The cabin is well stocked, but most people don’t keep backup phones and satellites at their vacation home,” Kingston explains.

“You don’t think our current burners are secure?”

“They likely are, but if I know your father as well as I do, he’ll be pulling out all the stops to find you and your brother. Plus Camilla has been blowing up my phone, demanding to speak to Chloe, but Salvatore will be waiting for that.”

I scoff. “That doesn’t surprise me. She’s kind of terrifying for someone her size.”

“She has to be to corral all those men of hers.” He smirks, but it quickly falls away. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Do you trust your brother?”

I open my mouth to say yes, to tell him there’s no one on earth I trust more than Damon. But something stops me. A niggling doubt that hasn’t shut up since he arrived at the airfield. “I don’t know.”

“Ryker also has his doubts, but I would like to believe he’s here for the right reasons. Until we can confirm his intentions, he is not to be alone with Chloe at any time. I won’t risk her being hurt again.”

“Understood.”

Leaving Damon and Chloe alone is risky at the best of times given the animosity between them, but if he was sent here by our father to bring me back into the fold, Chloe is the bait he knows I’ll chase.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

DAMON

NOW

I’m in hell.

That’s the only word I can use to describe this cabin, unable to escape three people I despise and my brother, who seems content to give up everything we’ve worked for.

Everything we’ve sacrificed for.

I’ve given up everything to be the leader of the Lombardi family.

Everything.

And now my own brother is going to be what costs me the future I’ve worked so fucking hard for.

You helped him escape with her, I remind myself.

He is not alone in the blame.

Hell, if you want to get really technical about it, I’m the one that woke him up to save Chloe from Ralph. I’m the one that orchestrated their escape.

Can I really blame my brother for doing what I told him to do?

Dropping into one of the armchairs in the living room, I tip my head back and stare at the wooden log ceiling.

I stayed in my room for as long as I could after my brother left with the man responsible for our mother’s death, but I was going stir-crazy. I’m not used to being so stagnant, and that in itself is a form of hell.

Chloe and the bodyguard are outside collecting wood for the fire, giving me what may be my only chance to call my father and tell him our whereabouts.

He’ll be pissed that I’m not delivering Ronan and Chloe on a silver platter, but without access to a car or jet, getting two people across the country is going to be next to impossible.

Hopefully throwing in Kingston Beaumont and his best killer will be enough to make up for it.

And yet I hesitate.

My leg bounces restlessly, my hand wrapped around the burner I swiped from Ronan before he left. He hasn’t been checking it since I was the only one with the number, making it easy to snatch without anyone noticing it missing.

I wish there was another option.

But the way I see it, I either deliver my brother and his woman, and take my throne, or I fail and lose everything, destined to spend the rest of my life on the run.

There is no door three, no get-out-of-jail-free card.

Even with that knowledge, the phone remains on the table in front of me, taunting me to make an impossible decision.

Chloe’s laugh in the distance makes my body tense.

There was a time that sound was reserved for Ronan and me. Back before I accepted my fate. Before I fully understood my obligations to the family as the first-born son.

I used to curse my brother for not being born first, for not having the kind of responsibility that I have, but eventually it was easier to accept that my life was not my own.

It belonged to our family legacy.

It still does.

Her laughter drifts closer, and I swipe the phone off the table, shoving it beneath the cushion and out of sight a moment before the door swings open and cold air gusts through the cabin.

Chloe steps inside, her auburn hair wind-swept and covering her face, but it’s the way her eyes sparkle with delight as she holds the door for Ryker.

Her arms are full of a few light-looking logs, but he’s loaded up. There’s no way we need this much wood today, but I don’t say anything.

Maybe if I ignore them, they’ll ignore me too.

“I’m serious, Siren. The boss can really belt out ‘I Will Always Love You’ if he’s drunk enough.”

“There’s no way Kingston is doing karaoke, drunk or not,” she argues as she nudges the door shut and follows him across the room to the fire.

“You’ll have to ask Rocco when you meet him. I’ve never seen so many terrifying men cry from laughter.”

Chloe shakes her head, her smile so wide it takes my breath away.

I used to do anything I could to make her look at me the way she is at him right now, and then I would do everything in my power to make her miserable so she wouldn’t taunt me with her happiness.

It makes me a shitty person, but seeing her happy when I was miserable was its own form of torture.

Ryker helps her pile the logs beside the fire before pulling her gloves off. He drops a kiss to her knuckles, a gentle gesture completely at odds with such a brutal man, but she brings it out in him.

She brings it out in all of them, and it’s what will ultimately get them killed.

Chloe turns, and I notice how pink her cheeks are from the cold. They used to turn that shade when I did something to upset her.

Her eyes lock with mine, and her smile falters. “Hey Damon,” she says, her tone more subdued now she realizes I’m in the room.

And I fucking hate it.

I hate that I’ll never be the reason for one of her smiles.

I hate that I’ll never be responsible for her laughter.

And I fucking hate that she still has the ability to make my chest tighten with nothing more than my name on her lips.

I don’t respond, instead returning my attention to the logs above me.

Once they settle somewhere, I’ll retreat back to my room to figure out my next steps.

“Asshole,” Ryker mutters.

“You got something to say, bodyguard?” I snap.

“You heard me.”

“Just leave it, Ry,” Chloe says softly as she steps between us.

“Yeah, Ry,” I taunt. I don’t know why I keep pushing him. If he is who they say he is, I shouldn’t put myself in his sights, but I can’t help it.

Chloe sighs, her eyes falling closed as she tries to retain her composure. “You’re an asshole, you know that?” she snaps. “They could have left you in Miami to deal with the consequences of your own actions.”

“You mean when I helped my brother break you out?”

“That was your choice! You can’t punish us for a decision you made!”

“Would you have preferred I let Ralph rape you?” I growl, the thought making my own stomach roll. “Or let Salvatore get impatient and send me to torture you until you gave us answers?”

Her eyes flare with annoyance. “You can never take responsibility for your own shit. You made the choice to help Ronan. You decided to save me. You can’t shift that onto me after the fact, especially when I was unconscious. I know blaming me for everything wrong in your life is one of your favorite hobbies, but not this time.”

Chloe turns on her heel, storming toward the bedroom she shared with Ryker and Ronan last night.

The door slams behind her, and Ryker turns his glare on me.

“I don’t know why she won’t let me kill you and put us all out of our misery.”

I open my mouth to respond, but he’s gone before I get the chance.

And once again I’m alone.

CHAPTER FIFTY

CHLOE

THEN

FOURTEEN YEARS AGO

The halls of the compound have always been a little intimidating, but the last twelve months they’ve been worse.

Because instead of running into scary-looking men with guns, I’m now afraid of seeing my best friend. Or I guess ex-best friend.

Not that I have any explanation for why Damon can’t stand to be in the same room as me anymore.

It’s his birthday next week.

A day I used to celebrate as much as my own.

Every year for as long as I can remember, the three of us would spend our birthdays in the media room watching movies and eating too much junk, and then when it came time for family dinner, we’d push our food around the plate with churning stomachs from all the sugar.

It was a tradition.

But when my birthday came around, it was just Ronan and me.

He tried to make it special, tried to tell me Damon would be here next year, but I knew the truth.

Damon would never join us for another birthday movie marathon.

I reposition my book in my arms as I make my way to the library. It’s one of the only rooms that no one ever uses, and therefore it’s become my sanctuary.

A safe place free of the cruelty of my ex-best friend.

Turning the corner, I spot the door at the other end of the hall and breathe a sigh of relief.

Almost there.

I pick up my pace, intent on reaching the room as quickly as I can. But then I hear his voice.

It’s grown deeper in the last year, only making it easier for him to frighten me.

Ronan says he’s not doing it on purpose, that he’s stressed now that his father has given him responsibility, but that’s not it.

Dragging a deep breath into my lungs, I keep my eyes focused on the door at the end of the hall, my heart pounding in my chest like it’s desperate to escape.

Maybe it is.

Maybe the organ that keeps me alive would rather leap from my chest than face another cruel attack by someone who once held half of it.

He still does if I’m honest.

You don’t stop loving someone just because they say mean things to you.

I stop in my tracks when Damon turns the corner, his eyes locking on me immediately.

Intent on not starting an argument, I drop my gaze and skirt around him without bothering to acknowledge his existence.

It’s safer that way.

I’m almost past him, almost to freedom when his hands grasp my shoulders, shoving me against the wall so hard it takes my breath away.

“What are you doing in this wing of the house, Duchess?” He spits the nickname that once held so much meaning.

“I’m just heading into the library,” I reply. “I was planning to read for a little while before picking up a new book to read to your mom.”

It’s become our routine. Each day at four o’clock, I read to her for an hour. One of the things she misses most after losing her sight is reading, and I do what I can to ease that burden.

“I don’t know why you bother. She hates you just as much as the rest of us,” he spits.

Pressing my eyes closed to warn away the stupid tears that gather at the corners, I steel myself. What he’s saying isn’t true, but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less.

Just the way he intended.

“If she wants me to stop coming, she’ll tell me,” I reply calmly.

“None of us can wait for you to graduate so we’ll finally be free of you. Dad wants Neil to send you to boarding school so Ronan will finally grow up and stop playing house with you, but your mom won’t let him.”

He’s not telling me anything I don’t already know. I overheard their argument a few weeks ago, but Damon doesn’t know that. He thinks he’s blindsiding me.

“Okay.” I shrug. “Can I go now?”

His hold on my arms tightens almost to the point of pain, but he stops himself before it gets there. This isn’t the first time he’s trapped me like this, and each time he stops himself before he actually hurts me.

Steeling my shoulders, I find the courage to look up into the ice-blue eyes that used to give me so much comfort. “Why do you hate me, Damon? Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Because you’re weak,” he spits. “And you make my brother weak. You’re going to get him killed. You realize that, don’t you? When he blows off training to spend time with you. When he refuses to meet his responsibilities in favor of his little crush, he gets behind, and it will be what kills him.”

“That’s not why,” I challenge. “Is it because I saw you kill Matt? Is it because I was watching the night you became a monster?”

Pain flares in his eyes at the reminder, but it’s gone so quickly I almost wonder if I imagined it. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I? Because that was the day you withdrew. That was the day you started getting enjoyment out of my suffering. Does it make you feel better to hurt me? Does it make you feel good when I cry?”

When he first stopped talking to me, I begged him for an explanation. Begged to understand how we went from best friends to enemies overnight. I tried to tell him that I understood why he killed Matt, even if I didn’t agree with it. But he didn’t want to hear it. His mind was made up, and that’s all that mattered.

“Why would I want to continue being friends with someone that makes me just as weak as my brother?” he growls. “I only have room for one whiny woman in my life, and that will be my future wife.”

The reminder of his arranged marriage stings, but I’m too angry. I want to slap him, to knock some sense into him.

But instead I shove his chest until he’s forced to take a step back, and I waste no time fleeing.

He may have been my best friend once upon a time, but now he’s my worst nightmare.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

RYKER

NOW

My siren has been quiet since her argument with Damon, and I don’t fucking like it.

I’ve never been particularly in tune with the emotions of others, but I feel Chloe’s in surround sound. It’s like when her heart hurts, mine aches right alongside it.

It was confusing at first, but I’ve learned not to question my own quirks.

Like the fact I can cut someone’s dick off without flinching.

Maybe I should cut Damon’s dick off and gift it to Chloe.

“Dude, why did your face get so murdery just now?” Ronan asks. He’s sitting across from me with Chloe’s head in his lap.

She curled up with him when they returned and promptly fell asleep as he brushed his fingers through her hair.

“I was thinking about maiming your brother,” I admit. “How do you think our girl would feel about receiving a dick in a box?”

His eyes widen for a moment before a deep laugh fills the warm cabin.

It’s just us in the living room, with the man in question sulking in his bedroom and Kingston making phone calls outside where the reception is better.

“You’re seriously unhinged, you know that right?”

I nod. “I like to think it’s one of the things that Chloe finds endearing.”

He chuckles as his eyes drop back to her sleeping face. She’s so pretty when she’s asleep. Not that she’s not pretty all the time, because she absolutely is. But when she’s asleep, she’s at peace. The weight of the world isn’t on her shoulders, and the danger that stalks us isn’t lingering at the back of her mind. All her worries melt away and allow her to rest.

“What are we going to do if he is here to betray us?” Ronan asks, and I can’t help but smirk at the use of the word “us.”

He’s beginning to see at least the three of us as a unit.

“I have no issues killing him.” I shrug.

“She will, though. Even through everything he’s done to her, every cruel thing he’s said, she never stopped caring for him.”

I sigh. That’s just who Chloe is, though. She cares deeply for people, even the ones that hurt her. The two men not in this room are prime fucking examples of that.

Kingston abandoned her during the hardest time in her life and then kidnapped her when she was vulnerable, keeping her hostage and refusing to allow anyone to speak to or see her until she married him.

And Damon is Damon. He’s an asshole who has been responsible for far too many of her tears as far as I’m concerned.

I wonder if I could carve out the eyeballs of every person that’s ever made her cry. That would be a nice gift…right?

“There it is again,” Ronan comments, dragging my attention back to him. “The unhinged look like you’re plotting someone’s death.”

“I am.”

“Life is never going to be boring, that’s for damn sure.”

There it is again. His acceptance of at least the three of us.

It allows the part of me that’s terrified of losing Chloe to settle. She wants all four of us, that’s something I am absolutely certain of.

But if the other two won’t come to the party, I think the younger Lombardi and I can make her happy.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

KINGSTON

NOW

Trudging into the cabin with annoyance rolling off me, I can’t help but glare at the scene in front of me.

Chloe’s asleep in Ronan’s lap, his fingers moving through her hair as he chats to Ryker about God knows what.

I fucking hate that they’re touching her, loathe that she’s so comfortable in their arms when she should only want to be in mine.

Hearing her screams last night was a lesson in patience that I don’t have, and as much as I would love to steal her away and keep her to myself, I need their help to keep her safe.

Then there’s the fact that she’s been more at peace since the four of us have been with her.

She told me I wasn’t the only one in her heart, but I didn’t believe it until I saw it with my own eyes.

Calculating golden eyes flick up to meet mine. “Hey, boss.”

I storm into the kitchen without responding, pouring myself two fingers of whiskey and throwing them back. The warmth burns through my chest, providing a distraction I desperately need.

After an hour of phone calls, I’m no closer to figuring out who hit the house.

Chloe’s house.

The one I bought for her. The one I filled with the things she loves, hoping it would make her love me with time.

The cleanup crew has already been there to remove the bodies, and next week construction will begin to fix what was broken, but I want her to feel safe there, and somehow I don’t think a house she was ambushed in is ever going to be her safe place.

I’ll buy her a hundred houses if that’s what she needs to feel safe, and I’ll decorate every single one the way she likes.

“No luck?” he asks from right beside me, and I glare at him over my shoulder.

For a six-foot-five giant, he moves like a ninja.

It’s one of the things that makes him so good at his job, but with his obsession with Chloe growing by the day, I doubt I’m going to be able to get him back in the field anytime soon.

The caseload at Hawk Security is becoming unmanageable, but we’ll both be out of commission until we can figure out who’s hunting us.

It’s probably time to hire some more help, but there aren’t that many trained assassins looking to work for someone else.

I shake my head as I pour another two fingers, this time sipping the amber liquid. This will be my last glass because I won’t risk not being able to protect Chloe if someone comes here.

“We’ll figure it out.” He glances over his shoulder at Chloe and Ronan, a soft smile on his lips.

I don’t want to deprive her of anything, and seeing one of the most ruthless men I’ve ever known look at someone the way Ryker does Chloe, it feels cruel to take that away from him.

She deserves to be loved without limits.

She deserves everything good in this world.

How am I supposed to deprive her of that?

But my possessive need to own her is so strong. Just watching Ronan look down at her like she’s his whole world has my hands fisting at my sides with the need to destroy him.

“Where’s Damon?”

“His room. He’s sulking because our girl called him out on his shit.”

That’s the other thing I’ve noticed since we’ve all been together. Chloe’s confidence has grown so much she’s almost unrecognizable.

Where she’s normally shy and reserved, especially after so many years on the run, she’s been willing to speak her mind, even when it starts an argument.

“And she’s okay?”

“You could ask her yourself.”

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“She’s good. Happy, even. Once she wakes up, she can call Camilla, and then I think she’ll be able to stop worrying about her.”

“Has she said something?”

“No, I’ve just gotten very good at reading her.”

A deep rumble escapes my throat of its own accord, earning me an amused smirk. “You can be as jealous as you want internally, but just know, if you hurt her with your bullshit, I’ll kill you.”

He turns on his heel without another word and stalks back to the couches, dropping down beside Ronan and pulling Chloe’s sock-covered feet into his lap.

I want to give her everything she’s ever wanted, but sharing her with these three assholes is a tall ask.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

CHLOE

NOW

Damon doesn’t bother coming out for dinner. He’s locked up tight in his bedroom like a teenager who hates his parents, and despite my desperate need to make things right, I don’t bother him.

I accepted a long time ago that my care for Damon is one-sided, and although there have been glimmers of hope that there’s still something there, I refuse to let myself get my hopes up.

I know a lost cause when I see one.

My call with Camilla was an adventure. Between Kovu hijacking the phone every thirty seconds and him and Ryker trading knife recommendations, I barely got to speak to her, but she sounds good. Happy.

Things are changing in New York, and she assured me it was a good time for me to be out of the city as things transition to a new normal.

I miss her, and I even find myself missing those sociopaths of hers, but as she so helpfully pointed out, I seem to be collecting my own, and when I tried to deny it, Ryker took the phone and all but told her about the threesome we had last night.

I think my cheeks will be heated with embarrassment for at least another week after that.

Now we’re sitting on the couch watching an old action movie on a television that I think might be as old as I am, but I’m not paying attention.

I haven’t been since Ryker slid his hand beneath my oversized shirt and started slowly circling my clit through my panties.

And as if that weren’t bad enough, Ronan has an arm thrown over my shoulder, gently brushing my nipple through the thin fabric.

Kingston sits across from us pretending he doesn’t know what’s happening over here, but the bulge in his sweatpants tells an entirely different story.

For a man that prides himself on control, he struggles to stop himself from looking over here every few seconds.

His hands are fisted over his chest, his body locked tight with tension, and I can’t help but wonder if this is some kind of game to make him snap.

It wouldn’t surprise me. Ryker does seem to enjoy meddling far more than someone with his occupation should.

“You’re soaking through your panties, Siren,” Ryker murmurs against the shell of my ear. “I bet he can smell your arousal from over there.”

My lips part, but I bite down on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from moaning.

“You smell so fucking good, Sparrow. What do you think he’d do if I kneeled between your legs and spent the rest of the movie having your pussy for dessert?”

I swallow another moan that tries to escape, but when Ronan pinches my nipple, I can’t catch the hiss that follows.

Kingston’s dark eyes lock on mine, and I’m sure he can see how flushed I am. The room may be dark, but the glow of the television is more than enough to show how these men affect me.

I’m both desperate to ask them to stop and to beg them for more, but they don’t make me ask for what I need.

Ryker slips his fingers beneath my panties, running them through my aching heat and letting out a pleased rumble. “So fucking wet, Siren.”

He finds my clit at the same time Ronan slips his hand into the neck of the shirt, his warm fingers brushing my hard nipple and almost sending me across the room.

Every touch is maddening. Both too much and not enough, and all the while Kingston watches beneath dark lashes.

I never thought I would enjoy being put on show like this, but the thrill drives my arousal through the roof.

Being watched is even more exhilarating than the idea of being caught.

Ryker dips a long finger into my sex and pumps it a few times, taking extra care to drag his fingertip over my front wall.

Jesus.

I had multiple orgasms last night. I should not crave another one this badly.

He withdraws and presses a second finger in beside the first, adding a delicious stretch that drives my need higher.

A soft moan escapes against my will, but I’m too far gone to care. If Kingston doesn’t want this, he can leave.

He doesn’t have to sit there. He doesn’t have to watch.

But he is.

His eyes flick between my face and Ryker’s hand moving between my thighs, occasionally pausing on the movement beneath my shirt.

“Look at how he watches you, baby,” Ronan whispers. “He wants you so fucking badly.”

“But he’s stubborn. He won’t come over here unless you ask. Do you want that, Siren? Do you want all three of us to have our hands on you?”

My lips part to reply, but instead of words, a whine slips free as Ryker’s thumb begins moving in tight circles over my clit.

Kingston’s eyes flare, his hands tightening on the arms of the chair as if they could keep him tethered in place.

“Or do you want him to be forced to watch as we make you come? Do you want to punish him for edging you? For using your pleasure against you?” Ryker asks, and this time I find myself nodding.

I do want to punish him.

I want him to know what it’s like to be pushed to the edge over and over again but not be allowed to fall.

“Good girl,” Ronan praises, all pretenses of secrecy out the window.

“Tell us what you want, Siren. Tell us where you want us.”

I swallow. “I want Ronan to eat my pussy, and I want to suck your cock while Kingston watches.”

All three men groan, but there isn’t a second of hesitation before I’m carefully moved to one end of the couch, making room for Ronan to lie down, and then my panties are pulled off and I’m positioned with my pussy over his face.

“Sit down, Sparrow. It’s been too fucking long since you’ve sat on your throne.”

“Jesus,” Ryker hisses. “I might come the second your lips wrap around me, baby.”

He shucks his pants, tossing them behind the couch somewhere, before standing behind the arm of the couch behind Ronan’s head. “Should we take this shirt off, Chloe? Should we let Kingston see your perfect body while we use you?”

I nod. Despite barely wearing anything, I’m overheated. The warmth from the fire was cozy before they started touching me, but now it’s too much.

He drags the shirt over my head, unveiling my bare skin inch by inch as if he’s putting on a show for Kingston, but I’m distracted by Ronan’s tongue as it drags through my aching heat. Between the sound of his mouth on me and his moans of enjoyment, I can barely think straight.

“Ride his face, Siren. Use him for your pleasure the way we use you for ours.”

“Fuck,” I whine, already barreling toward the edge, and they’ve barely touched me.

I meet Kingston’s eyes as I tilt my hips, shifting over Ronan’s sinful tongue and earning me another round of groans.

I’ve never felt more powerful than I do in this moment.

He’s barely holding on to the control he prides himself on, and the idea of making a man like him break brings a smirk to my lips.

Ryker steps in front of me, cutting off my view, but I don’t get a chance to protest before his cock taps my lips and I open without hesitation.

The taste of him is so fucking addictive I’ve been craving him since last night, desperate to feel him lose control from my mouth alone.

“That’s it, Siren. Relax your throat just like I taught you,” he praises.

Ronan groans beneath me, his grip on my thighs tightening. “She fucking loves that.”

“Oh, I know she does.” He chuckles. “Our girl loves to be praised.”

He presses forward until his cock rests at the back of my throat and I swallow around him, desperate to give him everything he needs.

“Did you know that, King?” Ryker asks, looking over his shoulder at his boss. “Did you know Chloe gushes when you praise her?”

“I did,” he rumbles, his voice thick with arousal, and I find myself wishing I could see him.

Ryker hums, feeding his tattooed fingers into my hair and thrusting slowly. “There you go, baby. You just take everything we’re giving you, and we’ll take care of the rest.”

He sets a slow pace that allows him to slip into my throat with each thrust before retreating to allow me to drag in a breath, while Ronan pushes me closer to the edge with every flick of his tongue.

“You’re so fucking pretty with my cock in your throat, Siren,” Ryker murmurs just for me, making my chest tighten. That shouldn’t be sweet, and yet it is.

Just like Ryker.

Because he may be a six-foot-five wall who kills for a living, but with me, he’s nothing but a giant teddy bear.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

RONAN

NOW

Inever thought group sex would be my thing, certainly not with Chloe.

But fuck me.

I’m about to blow my load, and she hasn’t touched me.

Just like last night, she follows every command Ryker gives her without hesitation.

I’m distracted each time his cock disappears down her throat, both jealous and proud of our girl for taking everything we give her.

That’s one of the reasons I didn’t think sharing would be for me. Apart from the locker room in high school, I’ve never been comfortable being naked around other men. But it’s different with Ryker. There’s none of the awkwardness, and when we’re in the heat of the moment, it doesn’t even cross my mind that what we’re doing is anything other than perfect.

Chloe cries out as Ryker twists her nipple, causing her pussy to clench as I drag my tongue through her sex.

I used to love going down on her when we were teenagers. It was the hottest fucking thing to make her come with nothing more than my mouth, and that hasn’t changed even after all these years.

I’m just as obsessed with the taste of her cunt as I was a decade ago.

Kingston still sits plastered to his armchair, holding on for dear life to stop himself from crossing the room and joining the show.

I’m vaguely aware of Damon being able to hear us from the door to our right, but I don’t give a fuck. If there’s one person in this cabin that needs a reality check about their own feelings, it’s my brother.

He may be able to lie to our father, even lie to himself, but he can’t lie to me. Not when we’ve spent our whole lives being trained to spot deception.

One of Chloe’s hands threads through my hair, tugging at the short strands as she grinds down on my face, dragging a rough groan from my throat.

Yep, I’m definitely at risk of coming in my pants the way I did the first time she dry humped me behind the storage shed in junior year.

Ryker chuckles roughly, but it’s clear how affected he is by her mouth. “You’re torturing poor Ronan with your moans, baby girl.”

“I don’t think that’s who’s being tortured here,” she replies, a smirk tugging at her swollen lips.

Jesus. She’s so fucking pretty like this.

Chloe Weaver is the most beautiful woman in the world all the time, but when she’s flushed with arousal, her eyes sparkling with mischief and desire, I fall even harder for the only girl I’ve ever loved.

Ryker plucks her off the couch, tearing a moan from the both of us. “Pants off, Lombardi. Your turn to feel our girl’s mouth around your cock.”

I curse, shucking my sweatpants as quickly as I can manage while he bends her over the arm of the couch, positioning himself behind her and sliding into her in one rough thrust.

“Fuck!” Chloe cries. “Ryker.”

“I’ve got you, Siren. You focus on making him feel good, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

I kneel on the couch, putting my weeping cock level with her lips, and she wastes no time taking me deep.

“Jesus,” I curse. “Keep sucking me like you’re dying for my cum and you’re going to get it before you’re ready.”

Rather than the warning I intend, she seems to take that as a personal challenge, taking me to the back of her throat and swallowing the way Ryker taught her.

Threading my hands into her hair, I take over thrusting into her mouth, trying desperately to regain control of my own body, but the tingling at the base of my spine tells me I’m fighting a losing battle.

“Such a perfect little whore for us, Chlo,” I groan. “You take our cocks like you were made just for our pleasure.”

Ryker curses, dragging his attention from her ass to glance at Kingston across the room, who I’d all but forgotten was there. “She loves being degraded almost as much as she loves to be praised.”

“You’re an asshole,” he growls.

“Oh, I know.” He smirks, slapping a hand down on Chloe’s ass, causing her to groan around my cock and bringing me even closer to the edge.

“I can’t hold off much longer,” I grunt, tightening my hold on her auburn locks as my thrusts begin to lose control.

“You ready to come, little whore?” Ryker asks, and she nods eagerly, never allowing my cock to slip from between her lips.

“Rub your clit for us. Make yourself come all over my cock while Ronan fills your mouth with cum.” Ryker slaps his hand down on her other cheek.

Her moan from the bite of pain takes me over the edge, and my jerky thrusts lose all rhythm.

Thick ropes of cum fill her mouth as her tongue works the underside of my cock, eagerly dragging every ounce of pleasure from my body.

“Good girl,” I grunt. “Such a good fucking girl.”

“Come for us, Siren. Milk my cock,” Ryker demands.

She cries out around my still-throbbing length, her entire body tightening as her release hits her.

Tears fall against her cheeks, the pleasure overwhelming her as Ryker shouts behind her, his own orgasm hitting him with the same intensity.

I brush strands from her cheeks as I withdraw my softening cock. “Such a good girl for us, Sparrow,” I murmur as her release begins to ease.

Her glassy eyes meet mine, and for the first time since she came back into my life, I see something I never expected to ever have staring back at me again.

Love.

Ryker collapses over her for a second, and we each take a moment to breathe before he withdraws, lifting her off the arm of the chair and carefully handing her to me.

He reaches for the blanket over the back of the couch and wraps it around her before dropping a kiss to her temple and disappearing into the bathroom, not bothering to get dressed.

“You did so good, baby girl,” I whisper, pressing a soft kiss to her swollen lips.

The last thing I expected from sharing a girl was how quickly I would come to crave it.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

CHLOE

NOW

Iwince as I move around the kitchen with an ease I’ve missed.

This used to be my haven, and I didn’t realize how much I had been craving normality.

It’s been weeks since I’ve cooked a real meal, and after everything these men have done for me, I want to do something for them, even if that’s just making them pancakes because that’s all I can make with the ingredients in the pantry.

I slept wedged between Ronan and Ryker again, their warmth making it almost impossible to drag myself out of bed, but my screaming bladder was enough to get me up.

The cabin is still warm from the fire we had burning last night as I whisk the batter and wait for the pan to heat up.

Up until recently, I’d made this same breakfast every day for years. It was John’s favorite, and Camilla has always had a sweet tooth, making it the perfect option to satisfy everyone.

I’ve barely had a chance to miss those simple mornings with just the three of us around the table.

Speaking to her last night helped settle some of the lingering worries after her kidnapping, but I won’t feel completely at ease until I see that she’s recovering for myself.

The problem is, until we figure out who is hunting us, we’re stuck here in this cabin.

A door opens across from me, and I glance up just in time to meet icy blue pools before he averts them.

“Good morning,” I say evenly, turning toward the pan to melt some butter before giving the batter one last whisk.

“Morning,” he mutters.

“There’s coffee in the pot, and pancakes will be ready shortly.”

Having my back to him makes the hair at the back of my neck stand on end, because although I would like to think he’s not going to hurt me, I know better than to look away from the most dangerous person in the room.

His footsteps fill the otherwise quiet cabin, and my chest tightens with each step he takes closer.

A mug slides across the counter, and I glance over at him as the first pancakes begin to bubble, only to find him watching me with too much intensity.

Refusing to be the first to look away for once, I hold his gaze for long seconds, neither of us saying anything before he finally looks away to pour his coffee.

I busy myself flipping the pancakes in the pan, a soft smirk tugging at my lips.

At this point I have to believe he doesn’t want me dead. Not when he helped Ronan escape with me and then proceeded to take a bullet for me.

But I also never thought he would break our friendship the way he did, and he didn’t hesitate to do that.

“I can change the dressing on your arm today if you want,” I offer, dropping a fresh nob of butter into the pan and sliding fresh pancakes across the counter to him.

“I’ve got it.”

“Okay.”

The plate disappears, and a moment later I hear it being placed on the dining table where all the toppings are already lined up.

There wasn’t much, but some syrup and butter is all anyone really needs on their pancakes.

“You used to be a shit cook,” he comments. “Remember that time you almost poisoned Ronan and me?”

I roll my eyes. “I did not almost poison you. Don’t be so dramatic.”

“What else would you call serving us chicken that was still raw in the middle?” He chuckles around a mouthful of pancakes, and for a moment, I’m struck by how handsome he is.

After years of his cruelty, I’d all but forgotten how good-looking he is when he smiles.

“It wasn’t that bad,” I argue, shaking myself off.

It doesn’t matter that he’s hot. He’s an asshole who has gone out of his way to make my life miserable since I was fifteen and has been directly responsible for some of the worst moments of my life. Allowing myself to fall back into his trap will only get me hurt, and I’ve felt enough pain at the hands of Lombardi men for a hundred lifetimes.

I serve up another round of pancakes and deliberate what to do with them. I thought the others would be up by now, and I have no doubt that Ryker will realize I’m no longer sleeping beside him any second now, but for now I shut off the gas and make my way toward the table.

Putting two seats between us, I drop down into the chair and reach for the butter, only for tattooed fingers to wrap around mine.

My eyes flash up to Damon’s, my heart beating too hard in my chest.

It doesn’t seem to matter how many times I remind my body what an asshole he is, I’m no less attracted to him.

I swallow heavily but don’t move. I barely breathe as I wait for him to make his next move. But it never comes. His hand remains wrapped around mine for long seconds as he stares at me with an intensity that’s always made me forget how to speak.

A door opening behind him breaks the spell, and his touch is gone, leaving me clutching the butter for dear life.

Ryker’s golden eyes settle on mine, and his shoulders drop in relief. I don’t know where he thought I was, but clearly waking up without me worried him.

Without a word, he crosses the room in a few long strides and drops into a crouch in front of me. His long fingers wrap around my throat, holding me in place as he drops a brutal kiss to my lips.

A soft moan slips out because this is the kind of morning kiss I can get around.

“New rule, Siren. Wake me up if you’re going to get out of bed without me, I just about had a heart attack when I reached for you and was met by Ronan’s hairy chest.”

I scoff at the visual he’s painting. “I didn’t want to wake you up. You need the extra sleep.”

“I need to know you’re safe more than I need sleep, or food, or air, Chloe. Can you just do this for me, please?”

How am I supposed to deny him when he says things like that?

I nod once, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Nothing’s going to happen to me, Ry. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll wake you up if I’m not going to come back to bed.”

“That’s not what I said.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not waking you up if I’m just getting up to pee.”

“Yes, you are.”

“You are unbelievably overprotective,” I sigh.

“That’s what happens when you get yourself kidnapped twice.”

I can’t really argue with that, so I drop another kiss to his lips and slip out of the chair.

“You have these pancakes, and I’ll put some more on. I made way too much batter, so there’s plenty for everyone.”

His hands wrap around my waist, depositing me back into the chair I was in just moments ago. “I’ll make the rest, Siren.”

He’s gone before I can argue, but the stupid smile that tugs at my lips stays there through every bite of my pancakes.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

DAMON

THEN

THIRTEEN YEARS AGO

He’s late again.

For the third time this week, Ronan’s late to training with our father, and frustration rolls off me in waves.

It’s because of her. It always is with him.

Even before they officially started dating, his entire universe revolved around Chloe, and if he’s not careful, it’s going to get one, or both, of them killed.

Dad paces restlessly, his eyes flicking to the gym door every other minute like Ronan’s going to appear out of thin air.

We’ll be lucky if he gets here in the next half hour.

I did what I could to distract Dad when I first got here, asking him a bunch of questions I already have the answers to just so he wouldn’t look at the clock.

But I don’t know why I bothered.

Maybe if Dad gives him a good enough beating, he’ll start being on time.

Just thinking it makes my skin crawl, because I’ve done everything in my power to prevent him from being on the receiving end of our father’s fury over the years, taking more than my fair share of punishments on his behalf.

I need him to get his head in the game.

Our turn to lead may feel like it’s a lifetime away right now, but in reality, it will be less than a decade. Just long enough for me to marry Mikayla and him to finish college, and when he becomes my underboss, I’ll need him to put the family above all else.

Including Chloe.

He rushes into the gym a few minutes later, his eyes darting around the equipment that’s laid out on the mats.

“Sorry I’m late. I walked Chloe to Mom’s room on my way here, and she had fallen out of bed,” he explains. “I got her settled, but it took her a little while to calm down.”

The mention of our mother is usually enough to settle Dad’s anger, but he advances on Ronan so quickly I don’t even get the chance to warn him.

His fist flies through the air, cracking against my brother’s jaw so hard I wince as he stumbles back.

“You will be punctual to all training sessions, son.” He spits the word. “Your mother has full-time nurses to help her. Your job is to be here when I demand it, and you’ll do well to remember that if you don’t want the things you care about taken from you.”

“I couldn’t leave her on the floor crying!” he argues, and I blow out a sigh. He knows better than that. Arguing with Salvatore Lombardi is about as productive as arguing with a brick wall, except a brick wall isn’t going to land you in the hospital.

“You will do as you’re told, when you’re told, or I’ll organize for that little girlfriend of yours to be married off to another family.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Oh, I absolutely can, Ronan, and I suggest you remember who’s in charge here and who allows you to run around with that little bitch.”

He turns away, striding toward the door with fury rolling off him.

“Hand-to-hand combat today. I’ll be back to check on you in an hour, and I better not find either of you slacking off.”

We each stare after him, but it’s not until his footsteps disappear in the distance that I move toward my brother, tilting his chin to get a look at the bruising already pushing to the surface.

One thing you can be sure of with our father? He’s never going to pull a punch.

“Why did you argue with him?” I snap.

“Because he was being unreasonable.”

“When have you ever known our father to be a reasonable man?”

“He usually is when it comes to Mom.”

I nod, because he’s right. Usually anything to do with our mother is his number one priority, even before the family, but maybe that’s changing.

She hasn’t wanted him near her the last few weeks, and I can’t tell if she’s found out about his side pieces or if there’s something else going on.

“You need to start taking this seriously, bro. He wasn’t bluffing on the marriage thing. I heard him talking to Neil last week about it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he snaps.

“Because Neil talked him out of the idea, saying it would be senseless to have two unfulfilled arranged marriages hanging over the family unnecessarily. Chloe is safe until I marry Mikayla, and by then you two can get hitched or whatever.”

The idea of them getting married makes my chest clench for reasons I decide not to analyze as I take a step back and position myself at one corner of the mat.

“Don’t think I’m going to go easy on you just because you’ve already taken a hit,” I challenge, but my mind keeps wandering to my own nuptials.

I’ve known most of my life that I would marry someone I didn’t love. I just never expected to have to watch my brother marry the person I did.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

CHLOE

NOW

Acramp slices through my stomach, and I throw a hand out to catch myself on the counter before my legs can buckle beneath me.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I breathe through another agonizing cramp that almost takes me to my knees, but somehow I manage to stay standing.

What’s the date?

I’ve spent years meticulously tracking every single day of my cycle because I like to know what symptoms to expect on any given day, but I know for sure it hasn’t been four weeks since I was locked up in the cellar.

Strong arms wrap around me from behind, carefully lifting me from my feet and carrying me to the couch without a word. It’s not until they lay me down that I realize it’s Ronan. Worry etches into his brow as he brushes his thumb over my cheek.

“It’s too soon for your period,” he says softly. “Does your IUD fuck with your cycle like the implant did?”

I shake my head, tears gathering at the corners of my eyes. How does he remember that? When I was first diagnosed with endometriosis at sixteen, the OB-GYN suggested I try the implant to settle some of the symptoms, but all it did was cause more chaos in my body. Two weeklong periods, followed by none for months, and then two in the same cycle. There was no tracking it, and after the first year I had it removed, choosing to take the pill instead.

Ronan glances at the kitchen where Damon is doing the dishes, something that surprised all of us, but none of us commented on in fear he might stop. “I saw a hot water bottle in the bottom of the pantry. I’ll get that for you, okay?”

“Thank you,” I whisper.

Before he gets the chance to stand, Ryker appears with his brow dipped low in concern. I have no idea where he came from, because the last I checked, he was outside with Kingston, and there was no gust of cold air when the door opened, but I’m distracted by another cramp tearing through my abdomen.

“Siren?”

“I’m okay,” I assure him, earning me a hard stare from Ronan.

“She’s not okay. She’s either ovulating or having a flare. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter given how much stress she’s been under the last month.”

Ryker’s eyes widen as he drops to his knees beside my head, brushing tattooed fingers through my hair. “You never told me why you disappeared for a few days every month. Is this it?” He pulls his phone out before I can reply, his eyes darting across the screen. “No, those days are always four weeks apart, so it has to be something else.”

Ronan and I stare at him in surprise, but I can’t help but laugh at the fact the big, burly serial killer has been tracking my periods without even realizing it.

He turns to look at Ronan, his brow dipped in concern. “Will you teach me how to take care of her?”

“I’ll go over everything with you, but first I want to find her some pain relief and a hot water bottle to make her more comfortable.”

Ryker jumps to his feet without another word, moving through the kitchen with a determination that’s as amusing as it is terrifying.

Ronan drops a soft kiss to my forehead before trailing after him.

Watching them move around the kitchen together makes my heart clench in a way it hasn’t since I was eighteen.

It’s far too soon to feel something so deep for Ryker, but if I’m honest with myself, maybe that doesn’t matter. He’s constantly proven to me that he’s dedicated to keeping me safe, constantly showing me that I’m his priority, and it doesn’t hurt that he has no problem sharing my affections.

“A flare can look different depending on what brought it on. In this case it’s probably stress, but it could also be all the sex she’s been having,” Ronan explains, and I can’t help but giggle when the tips of Damon’s ears turn pink at the topic.

“It could be that,” Ryker agrees. “Before that night in the parking lot, she hadn’t been with anyone since you.”

Ronan’s eyes flick up to meet mine, and I give him a sad smile.

“Either way, we’ll just have to take Chloe’s symptoms as they come. Pain relief and a hot water bottle or something similar will always help make her more comfortable. But sometimes she’ll be extra tired, or she’ll be off food for a couple of days. It just depends.”

Ryker nods, writing something in his phone before riffling through the cupboard for pain pills. “Do you think Amazon delivers out here? I’ve seen electric heating pads advertised, and at least they stay warm.”

“We are not having a stranger come to the cabin to deliver anything,” Damon rumbles, proving he’s been listening to every word they’ve said since they stepped into the kitchen.

“And they don’t work for her anyway. They don’t get hot enough for them to make any difference to her pain,” Ronan adds.

Ryker glares at Damon. “You will not tell me what I can and cannot do when it comes to taking care of my girl. If she needed a heating pad, I’d be getting her one in whichever way gets it to her the quickest.”

“Getting her killed is one way to take care of her pain, I guess,” Damon quips as he strides out of the kitchen, but instead of heading into his bedroom the way he has every other time they’ve argued, he drops down into the armchair Kingston was in last night, staring directly at me.

“I’m starting to think you want to end up on the wrong side of his knife collection, bro,” Ronan sighs as he pours boiling water into the hot water bottle and swipes a towel from the bottom drawer to wrap it in.

Ryker brings two painkillers and a bottle of water to the couch, proceeding to slip them between my lips and feeding me slow sips of water.

By the time I’ve swallowed the pills, Ronan carefully places the hot water bottle over my lower abdomen, his hand pressing against it softly to hold it in place.

After so many years of taking care of everyone else and having no one to return to favor, tears gather at the way these two brutal men fawn over me like I’m the most precious thing in their world.

And I’m starting to believe that I am.

But that’s the thing about hope. Sometimes it’s the thing that destroys you.

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

KINGSTON

NOW

“What do you mean you’re no closer to finding out who’s hunting us?” I snap.

The team at Hawk Security are highly trained, and you could never accuse them of being bad at their jobs, but it’s never been Chloe who’s been in danger before, and that makes this a whole lot more personal than any case we’ve ever taken on.

“The guys you killed at the house? Ghosts. Their fingerprints weren’t in the system, their faces didn’t match any government ID issued anywhere in the world, and by the time we picked them up, their devices had been wiped,” Corbin tells me.

I don’t need to see him to know he’s running his hand through his curly brown hair right now. He may be a ruthless killer, but he’s one of the shyest men I’ve ever met, and as much as he loves being out in the field with his brothers, he prefers being behind the computer screen making sure they can do their jobs safely.

The guys came to work for me a few years ago when they decided dealing with their own contracts was too much of a hassle, and I like to think working for Hawk has given them more direction than when they were out on their own.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and glance toward the house. Between the little show the three of them put on last night and the fact she was in the shower when I left my room this morning, I’m more frustrated than normal, and I shouldn’t take that out on Corbin.

“What about traffic cameras? Did they catch anything?”

“Negative. The men arrived in two unmarked vans, no windows, and the drivers were wearing masks. I had the guys look for the vehicles during cleanup, but they were gone.”

“Someone came to get them,” I provide.

“That’s how it looks.”

Whoever is after us is highly organized, which narrows down the possibilities significantly. There are few people on this planet that can pull off an operation like this so seamlessly.

The problem is, narrowing it down any further is going to be next to impossible because they, like the men we killed, are ghosts.

“We’re working around the clock to get answers, boss. Are you sure you don’t want me to send a team to guard you?”

“No, that’s not necessary. Between us, we have enough reinforcements to protect the cabin. Any Lombardi movement?”

“No one has left the compound since Damon a few days ago. I can’t see any reason for it, but it looks like they’re on lockdown.”

I glance toward the house with furrowed brows.

Damon isn’t here of his own free will. He’s made that obvious at every single opportunity presented to him, but he has no place else to go. He either makes nice with us or he gets sent back to his father, who will kill him for his betrayal.

But I still can’t quite shake the feeling that he’s up to something. He hasn’t done anything suspicious since he’s been with us, but I haven’t survived as long as I have by ignoring my gut.

“Keep me updated, Corbin. And send me a report of the cases we’ve taken over the last twelve months. I want to check some things.”

“You got it.”

He ends the call, and I take a few minutes to breathe in the fresh morning air.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been forced to slow down, even working straight through having my appendix out last year. It’s not in my nature to relax. I barely know what a weekend is, and the only vacation I’ve ever taken was when Chloe needed me ten years ago.

I’ve spent all these years building a business that can sustain itself without my constant supervision because I wanted to be able to give her my full attention, and now she’s right inside, and I’m out here alone?

Sharing Chloe was never part of the plan. From the moment I carried her out of that gas station, bloody and broken, she was mine, and I did everything in my power to prepare my life for her.

But I didn’t prepare myself for the possibility that she would fall for someone else.

Or multiple someone else’s, I guess.

Stealing her away again will only make her hate me, and even if with time I’m able to win her love, she’ll always miss them.

I want to give her everything, so why wouldn’t I want to give her the love of multiple men? After all she’s lived through, everything she’s survived, she deserves everything in this world, and I refuse to be the one that stands in the way of that.

Shoving my phone back in my pocket, I stride toward the house and step inside, the warmth from the fresh fire a stark contrast from the cold morning outside.

It’s quiet inside the cabin, but it’s not until I glance at the couch that concern washes over me.

Chloe’s on top of Ryker, her eyes closed and brows pinched with pain, while Ronan sits beside them, gently rubbing her back.

But that’s not the most perplexing part of the scene.

It’s Damon sitting in the same armchair I watched from last night with eyes locked on the three of them.

His expression is unreadable, but he doesn’t so much as glance up when the cool breeze fills the living area.

“Is she okay?” I ask, moving toward the couch.

Ronan looks up and nods. “Just a flare. We gave her some acetaminophen, but it doesn’t seem to be helping, and the hot water bottle made her overheat, so we settled with Ryker as a human electric blanket.”

Without hesitating, I move to the couch and crouch beside them, brushing my fingers through her soft hair.

“Not feeling well, Mama?” I murmur.

She shakes her head, tears glistening in her eyes.

“When was the last time you saw your specialist?”

“A while,” she admits, glancing at Ronan. “It wasn’t the same going by myself, and it was just another reminder of everything I lost.”

He sucks in a breath as he presses his eyes closed, but the soft drag of his fingers down her back never falters.

“Once this is all over, we’ll get you in to the best doctor we can find, okay?” I brush my thumb over her cheek.

“It’s okay. I can go by myself. I’m just being a baby.”

“No, you’re not, Sparrow,” Ronan says firmly. “King will get you an appointment, and I’ll be there by your side, like I should have been all along.”

A tear slips down her cheek as she nods. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank us, baby girl. It’s our job and privilege to take care of you.” I press a kiss to her temple for pushing myself to my feet, ignoring the smug smirk on Ryker’s lips. “Why don’t you choose a movie while I make you some peppermint tea?”

Chloe’s bottom lip wobbles, and I catch a tear as it falls.

“We’ll take care of everything, Mama. You just rest.”

It’s not until I’m standing in the kitchen looking at the four of them that I realize this is what it means to have a family. It’s been so long since I’ve considered myself part of one that I almost didn’t recognize it.

Because the thing about family is you don’t always get along. In fact, you spend most of the time irritated by one another, but you’d still throw yourself in front of a bullet for them.

And maybe it’s time I let myself accept that.

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

RYKER

NOW

Islip from between the sheets, checking I haven’t woken Chloe before tugging on the first clothes I find and quietly leaving the room.

Ronan’s with her, which gives me a weird amount of peace because up until recently, there was no one on this earth I trusted with her safety more than me, but the net is widening.

Kingston steps out of his room at the same time, and neither of us says a word as we head out the front door into the freezing cold night.

The silent alarm at the perimeter was tripped, and although it’s most likely to have been an animal, we’re not taking any chances.

Bark crunches beneath our feet the further we move away from the cabin, and my hand clutches around my knife.

It’s been far too long since I’ve made someone bleed, and part of me hopes it wasn’t an animal that set off the alarm just so I can get my fix.

Kingston motions for me to head to the right while he goes left, and I follow the silent command. I may have made a name for myself as one of the best trackers in the country, but I learned most of what I know from him, and whenever we’re in the field together, which is rare these days, I’m happy for him to take the lead.

The cabin disappears behind trees, leaving my path to be guided by the moon alone. Thankfully it’s a clear night, and I don’t have any trouble stepping over branches as I move farther into the dense forest.

A deer catches my attention in the distance, and I sigh.

And here I was hoping to get to kill someone.

I keep moving regardless, in the off chance that there is someone out here.

It’s better to be safe than sorry, and the alarms are designed to only be tripped by humans, even if they’re not foolproof.

“Ryker!” Kingston shouts, startling the deer and sending us both sprinting. The animal, away from potential threats, and me straight toward one.

The uneven ground slows me down, and by the time I reach him, I’m a little winded. I need to get back into the gym.

“What is it?”

He nods at a set of footprints in the dirt as he types something out on his phone. “We need to get out of here.”

“It might have been a hunter.”

“At three in the morning?”

I shrug, but he’s right. It’s not worth the risk, not when it’s Chloe’s life in jeopardy.

“Corbin’s checking the cameras, but I doubt he’s going to find anything.”

“It’s not like you to be so defeated, boss.” I chuckle, earning me an irritated glare.

“Head back to the house and start packing up. We’ll wait to wake Chloe until we’re ready to go. She needs the rest.”

“You sure you’re okay out here by yourself?”

He glares at me over the top of his phone, and I don’t bother arguing, instead tracing my own steps back toward the cabin.

By the time I step into the warm living room, a bleary-eyed Damon is pacing the length of the space with a gun in his hand, which is promptly pointed at me.

It takes him a second to realize I’m not a threat, and he drops it to his side. “What’s going on? I heard you two head outside.”

I try to hide the smirk that tugs at my lips, but it appears of its own accord. “For someone that claims to hate Chloe as much as you do, you’re awfully protective of her.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he snaps.

I shake my head and shuck my jacket. “Someone tripped the perimeter alarm. There’s a set of footprints a hundred yards from the cabin.”

He curses. “Where’s Kingston?”

“Making some calls. We’re leaving as soon as we can pack up all our shit.”

He frowns as he glances out the front window, but I decide against pointing out his concern for someone else he claims to hate.

Damon is the definition of a work in progress.

“Where are we going to go?”

“No clue.” I shrug. “King has houses across the country, but he might decide that going abroad is safer in the meantime. It’ll be harder for them to track us across oceans and might help us narrow down who it is that’s hunting us.”

Something crosses his eyes, but it’s gone before I have a chance to analyze it.

“I’ll stand guard while you pack your shit, and then we can swap while I do King’s room and wake Ronan and Chloe.”

He nods, tucking his gun into the back of his sweatpants and moving into his room without pausing.

As badly as I want to trust him, there’s something Damon isn’t telling us, and until he comes clean, he’s going to remain at the top of my suspect list.

CHAPTER SIXTY

CHLOE

NOW

“Siren.” Ryker’s voice is soft as it pulls me from a deep sleep that I’m desperate to stay in. “Come on, Chlo. We gotta go.”

Go? Go where? It’s so warm and comfortable here. Why would I ever want to leave? I think to myself as I snuggle deeper into the blankets.

Neither of the warm bodies I fell asleep between is still there, making me frown.

“Don’t pout, Sparrow,” Ronan says from my other side, amusement seeping into his words.

Tugging the blanket over my head to shut them out, a soft sigh of contentment leaves me. I could stay here in this cabin forever, surrounded by the people that make me feel safe…and Damon.

A snicker slips into the burrito I’ve made for myself. “Seems it takes more than taking a bullet for you to get into your good graces, huh, Siren?”

Did I say that out loud?

“You sure did, Chlo.” Ronan chuckles, scooping me and all my blankets up from the bed. “You’re adorable when you’re sleepy and disgruntled.”

I crack one eye open to glare at him, but his pinched brows make me pause. “Did something happen?”

“Someone was in the forest,” he tells me as we move into the living room.

“You know those blankets don’t belong to us, right?” Kingston’s voice comes from the kitchen, and I tug the burrito down a little further to see him fully dressed in a dark suit.

“I don’t care. She’s warm, and it’s freezing outside.”

“Is she naked under there?” Damon asks, his words sounding both irritated and concerned.

“No, she’s wearing King’s shirt,” Ryker replies as he steps around us, our bags piled over his shoulders.

Damon pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering something about that making such a difference under his breath before stalking toward the front door with his own bags.

“I can walk,” I murmur. “We don’t have to take the blankets.”

Ronan shakes his head, dropping a soft kiss to the side of my head as he carries me toward the door. “We’ll be on the road for a while, so you can go back to sleep once we’re settled.”

“Where are we going?” I yawn.

“That’s to be determined, Mama,” Kingston replies. “Right now all that matters is getting out of here. We’ll make the rest of the plan on the road.”

“Is that safe? Isn’t leaving here just going to play into their hands?”

“It might, but we’re sitting ducks in the middle of nowhere. If they’re as advanced as we believe they are, they could take down the towers and block the roads. It’s better to be on the move where we can’t be ambushed.”

Ryker’s jaw tightens like he wants to argue, but he doesn’t, instead stepping out into the darkness.

The sun hasn’t even peeked out from the horizon yet, but if the brisk gust of air is anything to go by, it won’t be long.

Ronan carries me out next with Kingston and Damon trailing after us, and I burrow into the blankets despite telling them just moments ago I didn’t need them.

He slips into the back seat with me in his lap, while Ryker takes the other side. Kingston climbs behind the wheel, leaving Damon no other option than to ride shotgun.

It’ll be a miracle if the two of them don’t kill each other.

“She needs a seat belt,” Damon mutters as he climbs into the passenger seat.

My brows just about shoot into my hairline, but Ronan shifts me to the seat between him and Ryker and wraps the seat belt around me and all the blankets.

This is going to be a very weird road trip.

Imust fall asleep as soon as we pull away from the cabin because when I wake up again, we’re on a highway and the sun is up.

The soft hum of music fills the car, tempting me to close my eyes and go back to sleep, but when I glance at Ryker, I find him staring down at me.

“Were you watching me sleep again?” I murmur, my voice sounding too loud for the quiet car.

He smirks. “You already know the answer to that, Siren.”

I shake my head and turn to find Ronan asleep with his head against the window.

Glancing toward the front of the car, I meet Kingston’s eyes in the rearview mirror, and I fight the urge to look away. His intensity has always been overwhelming, but I refuse to allow anyone to intimidate me anymore.

King included.

“How you feeling, Mama?” he asks in a deep rumble, glancing at the passenger seat to make sure he hasn’t woken Damon.

“I’m okay, just some dull cramping, but nothing I’m not used to.”

He frowns, flicking a look to Ryker, who types something out on his phone.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Tracking your symptoms so I have a record for the specialist.”

I blink at him, processing the words that have just come out of his mouth. “Tracking my symptoms…”

He nods. “I did some research while you were sleeping, and a blog post I read said it was a good idea to have exact dates and symptoms available, especially when women’s health issues are so often ignored or downplayed.”

I open my mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. Because what the hell are you supposed to say to something so equally thoughtful as it is unhinged?

“Where are we heading?” I ask, changing the subject to something safer.

“We’re just driving for now. Looking out for anyone following us before we make a plan.”

I furrow my brow, biting down on the inside of my cheek as I fight the urge to ask if that’s the safest option. Kingston does this for a living, helping people find somewhere safe to land, somewhere their nightmares can’t find them. I need to trust him to do the same for me.

“We’ll be stopping in an hour to eat something, and then we’ll make a plan of attack,” Ryker tells me, dropping a soft kiss to the top of my head.

The move is so familiar that it feels like he’s done it a million times, and not for the first time I realize how much he’s come to mean to me.

How they’ve each weaved their way into my chest without permission.

Without even meaning to, I’ve given four men the power to destroy me…again.

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

CHLOE

THEN

TEN YEARS AGO

The doctor left an hour ago, promising to be back the day after tomorrow to change my dressings.

Kingston insisted he could do it, but I’m pretty sure she wants to check on more than just my physical health.

She left a pregnancy-safe sedative for me, insisting I take it if I’m having trouble sleeping, but I don’t know if I can bring myself to take it. Not when every time I close my eyes, I’m right back in that cellar, watching my parents die over and over again.

Not that death was the worst thing that happened down there, because it wasn’t.

Not even close.

Sucking in a breath, I fight against the need to cry. It feels like I’ve cried a million tears, like there couldn’t possibly be anything left in the tanks, and yet they just keep coming.

Kingston hovers at the bedroom door, offering me food and drinks every few minutes like I’m suddenly going to become ravenous.

But just the thought of food after days of starvation turns my stomach.

I clutch a pillow to my chest, ignoring the way my hand throbs. The doctor was able to set my thumb, but she said it will take months to fully heal because it’s a hard body part to immobilize.

At least I only have to wear a brace and not a cast. I had one of those when I broke my wrist playing in the rose garden with Damon when I was twelve, and it itched like crazy.

By the time it came off after six weeks, I swore I would never do anything to land myself in one again, but I guess back then I didn’t know I would have to do something so drastic just to survive.

I swipe away a stray tear that falls against my cheek just as Kingston steps into the doorway with a tray of food, the scent making my stomach growl of its own accord.

A soft smile tugs at his lips as he crosses the room and lays it over my lap.

I take in the contents of the tray, not bothering to remind him how many times I told him I wasn’t hungry.

“The doctor said you need to eat something before you can take any of your meds, and it’s not good for the baby for you to starve yourself.”

I drag my attention off the rich tomato soup and plain buttered toast for long enough to glance at him, my chest tightening at the guilt that stares back at me.

Kingston doesn’t have any reason to feel guilty. He wasn’t there. He didn’t kill my parents. He didn’t rape my mother while making Dad and me watch. None of this is his fault, but I don’t bother telling him that, because I feel it too.

The survivor’s guilt has already started to eat away at me. Why would I get to survive while they died? How is that fair?

I look back down at the food and nod, forcing my thoughts away from the spiral I keep finding myself falling into.

I’ve never felt quite so at odds with my body and mind.

Dipping the spoon into the soup, I stir the red liquid for a handful of seconds, buying myself an extra moment before I force my stomach to accept food despite the nausea that rolls over me in waves.

The doctor said it could be morning sickness or a result of all the trauma I’ve been through the last few days, or any number of other things that come with being starved and held captive for an extended period of time.

Lifting the spoon from the bowl, my hand trembles violently, forcing me to lower it again. The sheets may be black, but tomato soup is going to be hell to get out.

A large hand engulfs mine, slipping the spoon from between my fingers and gathering a small amount of soup. “Let me do it for you, Mama,” Kingston murmurs.

“I can do it,” I argue weakly.

“But you don’t have to. Let me hold some of the weight for a little while. Let me take care of you.”

The tears I’ve been trying to keep at bay the last few hours gather at the corners of my eyes, and I’m powerless to stop them from falling.

“I don’t know if I can do this, King. I don’t know if I can live without everything I’ve ever loved.”

I never truly understood how a heart could break. It’s an organ that keeps your blood pumping, that keeps your life force moving through your body. How could it possibly break?

But I get it now. Because the never-ending pressure in my chest is relentless. It hurts so fucking badly I can barely drag in a breath around the agony, and somehow I’m supposed to live like this? I’m supposed to get up every day and live a whole life without the man who taught me how to ride a bike? I’m meant to raise a baby without the woman who showed me what it means to be a mother? I have to get up every day with the knowledge that the man I love more than anything else in the world doesn’t know there’s a child that’s half him and half me running around?

It feels impossible.

Kingston cups my cheek in his free hand, and I can’t help but lean into his warmth. “Of course you can, Chloe. You know why?”

I shake my head, biting down on the inside of my cheek to keep a fresh onslaught of tears at bay.

“Because they would want you to live a full life. All your mom and dad ever wanted for you was happiness, and they taught you how to be strong. They taught you to stand on your own two feet and to love despite the ugly world you grew up in. I know it hurts right now, and I’m not going to lie to you and say it’s not going to hurt forever, but that pain will ease eventually, and it will get easier to breathe.”

“You can’t know that,” I choke out.

“But I do, Mama.” His dark eyes hold mine, showing me the pain he usually hides from the world. “It gets easier. I promise.”

I swallow around the lump in my throat.

“I need to ask you something, and I want you to tell me the truth. Can you do that for me, Chloe?” He waits for my nod before continuing. “Do you want me to call Ronan and let him know you’re okay? I don’t have to tell him where you are or what happened. I don’t even have to tell him who I am. But would it make you feel better if he knew you didn’t just disappear?”

I shake my head. “No. I don’t want to risk it if Salvatore has already gotten into his head. It’s better that they all think I’m dead.”

For a second I think he’s going to argue, but instead he drops his hand from my cheek and gathers a mouthful of soup on the spoon. “You let me know if you change your mind, okay?”

I nod, but deep down I know I won’t.

Because even though Ronan holds my whole heart, and I can’t imagine loving anyone the same way I do him, I don’t know if I can trust him.

And not even love is worth dying for.

Not when I have a little life to bring into the world.

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

RYKER

NOW

Istretch my sore muscles as soon as I slip out from the back of the SUV.

Normally I would take the passenger seat, needing the extra leg room for my height, but if there’s a chance to sit next to my siren, I’m going to take it every single time.

Ronan opens the trunk and rummages through a bag, throwing items into the back seat that I vaguely recognize as Chloe’s clothes.

If I had it my way, we’d keep her half dressed for the rest of the trip, but she needs to pee, and I’m self-aware enough to know that if she walked into the gas station wearing just an oversized shirt, I’d have to kill one too many innocent bystanders.

It’s not their fault my girl is the most beautiful woman in the world, but I wouldn’t be able to allow them to live after ogling her.

Yeah, it’s definitely better she put some clothes on, even if it takes away my easy access.

I pop the fuel cap and tap my credit card before refilling the tank. It wasn’t empty, but who knows how long we have before they catch up to us.

So far no one has followed us, which we’ve confirmed with Corbin tracking us on traffic cameras, but that doesn’t mean we’re in the clear.

Chloe slips out of the back seat wearing an oversized sweater I’m certain belongs to Ronan and yoga pants that hug her curves, putting sinful thoughts straight into my mind.

Is this what the rest of my life looks like?

A perpetual hard-on because everything about my woman turns me on?

“What?” she asks, a soft blush hitting her cheeks as she looks down at her outfit.

“You’re perfect,” I murmur, lifting my arm to make space for her against me, and she takes it without hesitation, burying her face into my chest.

“Come on, Duchess. We don’t have all day for you to pee and get something to eat,” Damon snaps, but it’s missing its usual bite.

She’s wearing him down even if he hates it, and I can’t help but feel a little smug on her behalf.

Chloe huffs out an irritated sigh and looks up at me through big green eyes.

“I can kill him for you if you want.”

Her laugh fills the space around us, and it’s the most beautiful fucking sound I’ve ever heard in my life. Better than any song ever written or the screams of my victims. Even better than her moans of pleasure, which come in at a very close number two.

“Rain check?” She smiles.

“You got it, Siren. Just say the word, and it’s done.”

“Planning on killing anyone that upsets me?”

“Fuck yeah. Consider me your own personal serial killer.”

She scoffs, shaking her head as if the thought is ridiculous, but that smile stays in place as she presses a kiss to the space over my heart and trails after Damon toward the gas station.

Little does she know, I would kill every fucking person on the planet if she asked me to. There’s no line I won’t cross, no one I won’t take out, if it means making her smile.

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

CHLOE

NOW

Once I’ve done my business, I get to the most important part of a road trip.

Snacks.

There are a few people milling around as I browse the aisles, picking out my favorite candy and pork rinds for Damon. I swipe a candy bar for Ronan, hoping it’s still his go-to after all these years, and some jerky for Kingston before glancing toward the car.

What does Ryker like?

It hits me that I don’t know him that well, and yet my heart feels like I’ve known him my whole life, as if he’s always been a part of me, even before I knew he existed.

Shaking off the ridiculous thought, I settle for some extra jerky for him and move to the fridges. I need some caffeine, but it’s too warm in the car being pressed between Ryker and Ronan for a hot coffee.

I’m browsing the energy drinks when I feel a hard body press against my back, and a smile tugs at my lips. Of course one of them followed me in here. I don’t think the two of them have ever heard of personal space, and if I’m honest, I don’t mind it.

“Get everything you need, Duchess?” Damon asks against the shell of my ear, sending my heart into overdrive.

Biting down on the inside of my cheek, I force a breath into my lungs. “Just getting a drink, and I’ll be ready,” I reply, hating how my voice trembles at his proximity.

His hands move to rest on my hips, holding me in place so I can’t go anywhere. “Go on then.”

I swallow heavily, because there’s no way I can open the door without pressing myself against his front, and although we’ve found some common ground, I know better than to let myself trust Damon.

He wouldn’t hesitate to betray me if it meant he finally got his throne.

I meet his heated gaze in our reflection, only making my heart kick up another notch.

Why am I so affected by someone who hates me so much?

Reaching for the handle with my free arm, I tug the door open, but as suspected, it’s not enough space to get my hand inside.

Playing into his game, I shuffle back until I’m pressed hard against his chest and the evidence of his need is pressed to my ass.

Knowing he’s not unaffected by me brings the ghost of a smile to my lips as a plan starts to form.

I spot a flavor I’ve tried a couple of times on a lower shelf and tilt my hips as I lean into the fridge to slide it out of its place, pressing my ass into his hardness in the process.

He grunts as the hands on my hips tighten almost to the point of pain.

Glancing over my shoulder with what I hope is an innocent expression, I ask, “You want anything?”

He chuckles. “Oh, I want everything, Duchess. But I don’t think you’re ready for what I want.”

Shrugging, I allow the door to swing closed and turn in his arms, meeting the fire in his usually cold blue eyes. “I guess you don’t know me as well as you think you do, then.”

I’m gone before he has a chance to reach for me, and I can’t help but feel a little smug.

Damon can toy with me all he wants, but I’m just going to toy right back until he snaps.

Back at the car, I hand everyone’s snacks out while we wait for Ryker and Ronan to return from their own restroom runs.

Damon’s back in the passenger seat with his arms crossed over his chest and something between irritation and need radiating off him in waves.

I meet Kingston’s eyes in the rearview mirror, giving him a smirk.

Ronan slides into the seat beside me, picking up the candy bar on his seat and staring at it for long seconds. “This is my favorite.”

“I know.” I smile.

“You remembered.”

“You’re not the only one that spent a decade holding on to every memory of someone, Ro.”

He wraps an arm around my shoulders and tugs me against him, pressing a kiss to my temple that can only be described as reverent. “I’m never letting you go again, Sparrow.”

“Good, because I don’t plan on letting you go either.”

The door on my other side swings open, and Ryker climbs inside, folding himself into the space beside me. The last place someone of his height should be is the back seat, but I suspect he’s not going anywhere that I’m not in arm’s reach, and I’m more than okay with that.

He drops a kiss to my temple as Kingston pulls back onto the highway, and I reach for the Kindle that appeared the day after he kidnapped me.

The car falls silent, the only sound is the same soft music from earlier and the tires on the road as we continue our journey to nowhere.

If we weren’t running for our lives, maybe that thought would be thrilling, but instead there’s a thread of anxiety I can’t seem to shake no matter how many of my breathing exercises I do.

I fall into the story, my cheeks heating every time something filthy happens on page because the men on either side of me are reading over my shoulder shamelessly.

I’m in the middle of an especially spicy scene where two brothers share the female main character when Ryker tugs the blanket from this morning over my lap with the guise of keeping me warm and promptly slips his hand into my yoga pants.

A fresh blush warms my cheeks knowing he’ll find me wet and needy.

“I bought you a present, Siren,” he murmurs against the shell of my ear. “Do you want me to give it to you now?”

My eyes widen, but I find myself nodding. One of these days my own curiosity is going to get me into serious trouble.

He reaches into his pocket, producing something that fits in the palm of his hand, and he slips it beneath the blanket before I can see what it is.

Ronan’s hand on my thigh tightens, making my heart kick up a notch knowing he’s watching every move Ryker makes.

I never thought I’d be turned on by my being watched, having spent so much of my life hiding away from the world, fading into the background at every opportunity. But maybe that’s part of it.

Or maybe you just get off knowing how much these men want you, I think to myself.

Glancing at the front seats, Kingston has both hands on the wheel and his eyes on the road, while Damon uses a laptop Ryker handed to him to do God knows what.

And honestly, I couldn’t care less right now. Not when Ryker drags his gift through my aching sex and presses it inside me without hesitation.

“Please tell me you cleaned that,” Ronan rumbles, his voice drowned out by the hum of the car.

Ryker flicks his attention up to him with an unimpressed glare. “Obviously.”

I let out a breathy laugh at their bickering, which is quickly cut off when whatever rests inside me starts vibrating.

My hips jerk against the seat as I grasp on to Ronan’s arm for purchase, but the brutal vibrations are almost too much.

“Sorry, Siren,” he whispers as he presses something on the vibrator, bringing down the intensity to a dull vibration that leaves me wanting more.

“How does that feel, baby?” Ronan asks, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek.

I bite down on my bottom lip as I swallow down a moan. “I need more,” I whimper.

“That’s too bad,” Ryker rumbles. “You’re going to keep that inside you until our next stop, and you’re not to come under any circumstances. Do you understand me?”

I glare up at him but find myself nodding, because even though the idea of being forced to hover at the brink of release for what could be hours is insane to me. I’m desperate to please him, to do anything he tells me to.

“Good girl.” He brushes his thumb across my cheek, but his other hand remains in my yoga pants, occasionally pressing the toy deeper or circling my clit in too gentle motions.

I did not have being edged in the back seat during an impromptu road trip on my bingo card.

CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

KINGSTON

NOW

Jesus fucking Christ.

I’m starting to think the three people in the back seat are part rabbit given how often they’re fucking, but maybe that’s just my jealousy talking.

Chloe opens to them so beautifully, and without hesitation she hands herself to them and trusts them to catch her, and I can’t help but be envious of that bond they’re building.

Not that I’ve helped myself.

I tried to manipulate her into marrying me with orgasm denial, so I’ve certainly earned her apprehension.

But there’s only so much a man can take before he snaps, and I fear I’m rapidly reaching that point.

Chloe’s cheeks are flushed, her eyes closed as her hips shift so slightly that someone who wasn’t obsessed with her probably wouldn’t notice.

But I notice.

I see everything she does. Everything she tries to hide from the world. Every soft moan she thinks we can’t hear. Every breath she sucks in when she gets a little closer to the edge Ryker’s dangling her over.

And if all that wasn’t bad enough, the scent of her perfect pussy fills the car, making me even more desperate to taste her.

Damon isn’t faring much better, his jaw tight with tension and his hands balled into fists on the laptop keyboard.

He stopped typing twenty minutes after they started playing, and now we’re in a perpetual silence, waiting for them to throw us a crumb.

We’ve been driving for almost four hours, and I was planning on stopping at a motel off the beaten path, but I’m not ready for this to end.

Not if this is the closest I get to Chloe’s pussy for the foreseeable future.

I tighten my hold on the steering wheel as I grapple with temptation.

It would be so easy to pull over and watch them fuck her the way I did just a few nights ago, but I don’t want to watch anymore.

I want to take her the way I should have when I had her all to myself.

Thinking I could force her down the aisle with the promise of an earth-shattering orgasm was ridiculous and a little egotistical if I’m honest with myself, but I should have overwhelmed her with pleasure. I should have given her so many orgasms that she couldn’t remember her own name, let alone that her heart belonged to more than just me.

But even as I think it, I know it would have yielded the same results.

Chloe knows what she wants, and there was nothing I could have done to change the fact her heart is torn in four.

Something happened between her and Damon when they were inside, that much was obvious by the way he stormed back to the car while she practically skipped with a smug smile on her pretty pink lips.

I never thought sharing would be my thing, but watching her with each of them doesn’t have jealousy bubbling in my chest.

Seeing the way each of them gives her something the others can’t is kind of beautiful, and I know it’s only a matter of time before I’m acting the same as the two lovesick fools in the back.

The motel is only a few miles away, and I realize despite my own selfish needs to keep watching her struggle each time he brings her to the edge, it’s time for us to get the fuck out of this car.

“You ready to come, Siren?” Ryker asks quietly.

“I can’t,” she whispers, shaking her head as a handful of tears fall against her cheeks. “It’s too much.”

“It’s going to feel so good to finally get to come,” Ronan tells her, flicking her nipple through her hooded sweatshirt.

I know for a fact she’s not wearing a bra, considering I was holding a jacket to the front window while she was changing and turned around to check on her when she almost tumbled off the back seat.

“It’s too big, Ro. It feels like it’s going to swallow me whole.”

Damon curses, slamming the laptop shut so hard I’m surprised the screen doesn’t shatter.

I can’t help but chuckle at his reaction as I guide the car to the shoulder and put it in park before turning in my seat.

Chloe’s eyes are wide when they meet mine, her cheeks the most delectable shade of pink I’ve ever seen.

“You’re so fucking pretty, Mama,” I croon. “You going to come for us? You’ve been torturing us for hours with your little whines and soft moans. Don’t you think we deserve to watch you come?”

She bites down on her bottom lip, glancing at Ryker who stares down at her with a reverence I didn’t think he was capable of.

His hand moves beneath her yoga pants, the blanket all but forgotten as a soft buzzing fills the car, and a sob tears from her chest.

“Come for us, Siren.” He barks out the order, his tone so at odds with the way he normally speaks to her, but as if she has no other choice, her release takes her on her next breath.

Her body tightens, her hands clutching Ronan’s as if it were her only lifeline as violent trembles overcome her.

“That’s it, baby,” Ryker murmurs. “Give us everything. I want every drop of your pleasure.”

Damon finally looks over his shoulder, no longer able to hold himself back from temptation, and I don’t miss the way his brother smirks when he finally breaks.

It won’t be long before he finally stops fighting his need for her, and personally, I hope I have a front-row seat for that fireworks show.

“You did so good, Sparrow,” Ronan praises as Ryker slips the toy from her pussy and I get my first look at the device that played a part in my torment over the last few hours.

“Where the hell did you get that?” I ask, my eyes locking on the vibrator that’s been inside her since we left the gas station.

“They had a surprisingly good selection in the aisle next to the snacks. Maybe the truckers like to get freaky during their rest stops.” He shrugs.

Ryker drops the toy into the bag at his feet and unclips Chloe, lifting her until she’s draped over both him and Ronan.

If there’s one of us I thought would be incapable of sharing, I would have guessed it would be the solitary psychopath who gets off on new torture tactics. But I was so wrong.

It seems I was wrong about a lot when it comes to Chloe.

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

CHLOE

NOW

I’m sated in a way I can’t ever remember being, but then again, I’ve never spent hours with a toy inside my pussy being held on the edge, so I guess that makes sense.

Kingston pulls the car into a motel parking lot and barely gets it into park before Damon shoves his door open and stalks toward the office.

A deep chuckle vibrates against my chest, and I snuggle deeper into Ryker’s arms. “Won’t be long before he snaps.”

“I thought he was going to steal her right from between us when King pulled the car over,” Ronan says, brushing his fingers down my back.

Kingston shakes his head as he trails after the angry Lombardi brother, leaving me with the two men that have shown me a whole new world of pleasure.

“You doing okay, Sparrow?” Ronan asks.

I nod. “Tired.”

“I bet you are.” He smirks, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “No cramps or anything?”

“No, no cramps. Just feeling floaty.”

“That’s good, baby girl.” He brushes a stray hair from my cheek, tucking it behind my ear.

The door beside Ryker opens, and before I have a chance to see who opened it, I find myself lifted into their arms.

The cool air rushes around me, but in a few long strides, I’m carried into a room with the door slammed shut behind us, and then I’m thrown into the center of the bed.

It takes me a few blinks to warn away the black spots dancing in my vision from the sudden move, but my heart just about beats out of my chest when I find Kingston looming over me, his dark eyes on fire.

“What are you doing?” I whisper.

“Exactly what I should have done in the first place.”

I don’t get a chance to ask any other questions before he tears my sweater over my head, his eyes locking on my peaked nipples for the second time today.

Getting changed in the back seat of an SUV is not as easy as it sounds.

Kingston finally tears his eyes off my chest for long enough to whip my yoga pants down my legs, grunting when he realizes I’m not wearing any panties.

As soon as my pants are discarded across the room, he drops to his knees at the foot of the bed and drags my hips down until they’re at the edge.

He stares down at my pussy like he’s planning to devour me whole, and although it occurs to me to feel embarrassed, it never comes. Not when Kingston looks at me like I’m the most beautiful woman in the world.

“God, you’re fucking perfect, Chloe. Do you know how many nights I dreamed of what you would taste like? I fucked my hand so many times thinking about spending hours between your thighs, even though I knew I’d never get my fill of you.”

He brushes his lips over the inside of my thigh, the contrast between his warm lips and rough stubble making it almost impossible to stay still.

“Look how pink and swollen your pretty cunt is, Mama. I bet you’re so sensitive.” As if to punctuate his point, he drags the tip of his tongue over my clit, making me jolt. “I bet you’ll come the second I slide inside your perfect pussy.”

Heat rushes over me despite how cool it is inside the motel room.

How is it possible for me to be turned on despite having come so many times in the last week?

I went from an orgasm every other week at my own hand to being overwhelmed by them at every opportunity.

Not that I’m complaining. Whatever Ryker did the night he first touched me has awoken my libido in a way I didn’t know was possible.

The sound of the slap comes immediately before the pleasure and pain bloom across my clit, forcing my eyes to meet Kingston’s.

“When I have my hands or mouth on you, your attention is on me,” he rumbles, dragging his tongue over my tender clit. “I didn’t think I’d be able to share you, but watching you with Ronan and Ryker this past week has been a special kind of torture.”

I bite down on my bottom lip as a soft moan fills the room. I’m already on my way to another release, and I’ve barely stopped trembling from the last one.

“I’ve never seen you as at peace as you are when you’re between them, like your body and mind know you’re safe in their arms.”

His words make my chest ache, because there’s a sadness in the undertone. It’s selfish of me to need them the way I do. I should be happy with just one of them, but maybe my heart is just too big to love one person alone.

“I want you to look like that when I have my arms around you,” he admits as a rare look of vulnerability creeps into his dark gaze.

“King,” I whisper, not trusting my voice not to break under the pressure in my chest.

He presses soft kisses along the inside of my thigh, his stubble moving over the sensitive flesh and making my head spin. “It’s okay, Mama. I know I have to earn it, and I fully intend to make you as happy as they do. I understand now that it was wrong of me to try to make you choose between us. I just need this one night with you and then I’ll share. I promise.”

His words hit me in the chest as a stray tear falls against my cheek. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

His soft chuckle whispers against my pussy, dragging a moan from my chest. “Don’t you get it, Chloe? I’d do anything for you. I’d walk through a wall of fire to get to you. I’d burn this whole fucking world to the ground if it meant you were mine. Sharing you with them is a small price to pay to have you forever.”

Words that have no place hanging between us find their way to the tip of my tongue. It’s too soon to say it, but if there’s one of my guys that needs to hear it more than the others, it’s Kingston. He’s giving up so much to be a part of this, a whole life he envisioned for us. The least I can do is tell him the truth.

“I love you,” I whisper.

His dark eyes lock with mine, emotions rioting through them that I’ve never seen before. One second he’s kneeling on the floor between my legs, and the next he’s over me, his weight pressing me into the mattress.

“Say it again,” he rumbles.

“I love you, King.”

“Again.”

“Kingston.” I roll my eyes, a giggle slipping from my lips.

“Say it again and I’ll spend the rest of the night dragging so much pleasure from your body that you won’t know where you end and I begin.”

I shake my head but give him what he wants. “I love you.”

Reaching between us, he shoves his sweatpants down far enough to set his cock free. He guides the tip through my wetness, pulling a whimper from my chest and a growl from his.

I’m so sensitive from the car ride that I’m at risk of coming the second he slides inside me, but I don’t care. All I care about is finally having this moment with him.

“I haven’t been with anyone in years,” he murmurs as he notches himself at my entrance. “I’m clean and I’m desperate to feel your sweet cunt bare.”

He only waits for my nod before sinking in the first few inches.

“Jesus, Chloe. I always knew your pussy would become my favorite place in the world, but not even my imagination could have conjured this feeling.”

“Kingston,” I whine, tipping my hips up to take more of him.

He chuckles and presses a soft kiss to my lips. “Don’t worry, Mama, I’ll give you everything you need. I fully intend on filling you with so much cum tonight that it will be dripping out of your cunt for days.”

CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

KINGSTON

NOW

Icannot overstate how much time I’ve spent fantasizing about fucking Chloe.

It’s a compulsion I knew I’d never be able to break, so I didn’t bother.

Every night for the last ten years, I’ve imagined fucking her in every position I could think of. I imagined taking her sweet holes so often that I worried when it was finally time to make her mine that the real thing would pale in comparison to my imagination.

But, fuck, was I wrong.

I had it twisted, because not even in my wildest dreams could I have known she would feel this good wrapped around me.

“King,” she whimpers as I sink another few inches.

As badly as I want to fuck her into this mattress, to cover her in my seed and make her scream my name for the whole fucking world to hear, this is our first time, and I refuse to fuck her like a wild animal.

There’s also the fact that I’ve spent the last few hours watching her be edged in the back seat of the car, and I’m already close to my own release.

I will not be a two-pump chump during our first time.

I sink the rest of the way until our hips meet and her eyes water with how full she is, and I can’t help but feel like I’ve conquered the whole fucking world.

But that’s just how Chloe makes me feel. How she’s always made me feel.

Dropping an elbow to the mattress beside her, I bring my other hand to cup her face, stroking her cheek with my thumb as I commit her in this moment to memory.

Even when I forget my own name, I want to remember how she looks right now. Flushed and needy, her eyes wild yet full of so much love I can barely believe it’s all for me.

“I love you, Chloe,” I murmur, trailing kisses over her lips and cheek. “I love you so fucking much it makes me crazy.”

Tears glisten in her green pools, her body trembling with need as I hold myself inside her without moving an inch.

“I love you,” she whispers.

I groan as my cock jerks inside her. “I think I could come just from hearing those words on your pretty lips, Mama.”

“We can test that if you want.” She giggles, and I swear my heart stutters at the sound.

Even if we spend the rest of forever together, finding each other in every life for all of eternity, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to being responsible for that sound.

“Not tonight, brat.” I chuckle, rolling my hips to press myself deeper and dragging a moan from each of us. “Have you ever heard of cock warming?”

She shakes her head.

“I’m looking forward to introducing you to a whole new world of pleasure and frustration.”

“Because the orgasm denial wasn’t bad enough?”

“Oh, there will be plenty of that in our future too. But I’m thinking I could get a lot of work done with my cock inside your pussy or mouth.”

Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t get a chance to respond before I thrust my hips forward, stealing the air from her lungs.

“I’m going to take every opportunity to fuck you, Chloe. Over my desk, in the shower, in the middle of the night while one of the others sleeps on your other side.”

Her pussy clenches around me, and a rough chuckle slips from my throat. “Oh, you like the sound of that, baby? You want me to fuck you while your other guys are none the wiser?”

She nods, biting down on her bottom lip as another moan fills the motel room.

“Such a good girl,” I croon. “Such a perfect little whore for us.”

“Fuck, King,” she whimpers.

“You going to come for me, Mama? You going to let me pump you full of my cum?”

“Yes, please. Fuck, I’m so close.”

“I know, baby. I can feel you. Your pretty pussy wants my cum so badly.”

She clenches so hard around me that stars burst into my vision, and I lose all semblance of rhythm as I chase my own pleasure.

My balls tighten a moment before hot ropes of cum explode from my cock, and a roar of release tears from my chest.

I press myself deep, holding myself there as blinding pressure shoots through every nerve ending in a way I didn’t know was possible, and when I finally come to, I’ve all but collapsed on top of Chloe and can barely feel my legs.

I’ve had plenty of orgasms in my life, but none have felt like that, and if I wasn’t already planning to fuck my girl at every opportunity, I sure as hell was now.

“You’re perfect,” I whisper, dropping a kiss to her lips before pushing up onto my knees.

Grasping her knees, I press them up to her chest, giving me the perfect view of her swollen pussy with my cum dripping out.

I gather the escaped seed with my fingers and press it back inside her, holding them deep, even as her cheeks flush.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping you full of me.”

Her eyes widen as I trail kisses along her calf.

“I’ll have to look into a plug for your pussy. I want you holding my cum inside you for as long as possible. I want my seed to seep into your fucking soul.”

A moan slips out as I press my fingers to her G-spot and a smirk tugs at my lips.

Given how easily Ryker sniffed out a vibrator, I’m sure he could make a plug happen with little effort.

The thought catches me off guard, but instead of jealousy or acceptance, my cock hardens at the idea of her full of all of us, and that’s how I know with certainty that we can make this work.

CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

DAMON

NOW

Stalking away from the motel, I cross the street to a small market in search of supplies.

I’ve never been so fucking hard in my life, and I’ve spent the last week listening to those assholes making her scream at every opportunity.

But it was different in that car.

I was already riled from our encounter in the gas station, her perky little ass pressed to my cock as she bent over to get an energy drink I know wasn’t her first choice.

And that’s the annoying thing about Chloe and me. I know her. I know her favorite food and the candy she reaches for when she’s had a bad day. I know her favorite song and how it sounds on her lips when she sings along. I know everything about her, and I’ve spent years trying to forget.

I’ve done everything I can to force her out of my mind, to push Chloe and all the things she likes to a box that I can lock and throw away the key to.

But now I realize it was futile.

Shaking my head to clear the thoughts, I take a basket from the stack and move toward the prepared food section. The motel’s amenities leave a lot to be desired, but at least there’s a microwave.

The selection is small, but I grab a couple of burritos, a few prepared salads, and a pre-made pizza. I’m assuming Kingston is going to keep Chloe busy for the rest of the night, and I try to tell myself that doesn’t piss me off.

He was like a man possessed when he carried her into one of the two rooms we booked.

When it became obvious the walls were paper thin and I could hear her cries of pleasure like they were happening right beside me, I got the fuck out of there before I put a hole in the wall.

My father’s ultimatum hangs over me, and I’m still as uncertain about what to do as I was the day I left the compound.

On the one hand, I’ve spent my whole life preparing to take the Lombardi throne. It’s all I know, and without that legacy, I don’t even know who I am.

But on the other, I don’t think I can betray Ronan like that. I don’t think I can carry Chloe to her death…again. I’ve already caused her so much pain, so much trauma, I can’t be responsible for another second of it.

Living the rest of our lives on the run isn’t the life I had planned for myself, but if I decide to betray my father, I’ll have no choice. None of us will.

Because he was very clear about what would happen if I failed and what he would do if he got his hands on Chloe.

My stomach rolls at the thought.

For most people it would probably be an empty threat, but my father gets off on causing others unimaginable pain, and I can think of few things that would hurt me and Ronan like watching Chloe be tortured like that.

I move down another aisle, dropping some snacks into the basket and then a few bottles of water. There’s a vending machine a few doors down from our room so we won’t go without drinks while we’re here.

Once I have everything I think we might need, I check out and step back into the afternoon sun. Despite watching the navigation like it was my job on the way here just to stop myself from turning to watch what was happening in the back seat, I have no fucking clue where we are.

I haven’t been gone for nearly long enough to avoid listening to Kingston and Chloe, but at least I’ve had a few minutes of solace to regather the composure that slips whenever she’s nearby.

Hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as I cross the street, and I glance around, looking for whatever set off the reaction.

I’ve always been able to sense danger before it comes, but the street is quiet, not a soul in sight.

I catalog each car in the parking lot, but nothing out of the ordinary stands out to me, and then I check the few shopfronts as if I’ll find someone watching from behind a window.

But there’s nothing.

No sign of life at all, actually.

It’s the late afternoon in a tiny town that probably has a population of twenty people, so it might not be out of the ordinary, but each step I take back to the motel has a feeling of dread settling in my chest.

We’ll just stay the one night and then keep moving in the morning.

CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

DAMON

THEN

TWELVE YEARS AGO

I’m beginning to think Chloe’s laugh is haunting me, because despite living in a house that most get lost in, I can always hear it.

How can someone possibly be so happy that they laugh this much?

I shake off the question and get back on task.

It’s rare that Dad insists we do dirty work outside the cellar, but I didn’t argue when he demanded I carry this heavy son of a bitch up to the lawn.

Glancing up at her bedroom window, I find the curtains drawn and the lights on, telling me she’s either on the phone with one of her friends, or she’s reading one of those stupid books she always has her head in.

If it weren’t for the fact Ronan is standing beside me as I drop the unconscious asshole into the grass, I would think he was up there.

He’s still finding his footing on this side of the business, and I don’t blame him. Although he wasn’t forced to kill an innocent man on his sixteenth birthday the way I was, Dad’s trials for my brother have been far crueler.

He’s trying to toughen him up, to force the goodness he got from our mother right out of him, but so far he’s failed.

And I can only assume that’s because he has a bright light to run to whenever the darkness threatens to swallow him whole.

I shake off the thought before it can go any further.

I’ve played this game with myself often enough that I know it only leads to me craving that same kind of connection, something I can never have.

And not just because my future wife is one of the most irritating human beings I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting.

I can never have what Ronan has with Chloe because I’ll stifle the goodness. I’ll extinguish the light with my darkness, and I’ll do it without even blinking an eye.

Not because I want to, but because I don’t know any other way to be anymore.

Little by little, my legacy has stolen the humanity from my soul, and there’s no going back to who I was before I was thrust into the darkness.

Ronan crouches beside the unconscious guy and checks the rope holding his wrists and feet to ensure he can’t run if he comes to.

Not that there’s anywhere to go.

The concrete fence that surrounds the property is too high to jump on a good day, but after two weeks of beatings and torture, he wouldn’t stand a chance.

And even if by some miracle he did get over to the other side, there’re miles of nothing but gators on this side of the property. We’d catch him and drag him back before he had a chance to breathe freedom.

Dad and Neil cross the lawn, their eyes locking on the man at our feet.

Pete here got a little greedy at the club he manages for the family and started skimming from the tills. It took us a while to figure it out, longer than it should have if I’m honest, but he’s about to pay the ultimate price for his betrayal.

“Wake him up,” Dad demands.

Ronan slaps his face a couple of times, dragging a groan from the man’s chest. He tries to roll over, but his bindings don’t let him get far.

His body stills when he remembers where he is and what has happened to him over the last couple of weeks, his eyes darting between Ronan and me like either of us can do anything to save him.

If that were an option, we would save ourselves from this life.

“Please, I’m sorry. I can give you back the money,” he pleads.

I sigh, dropping into a crouch beside my brother. “If that were the case, you wouldn’t have stolen from us. Only desperate men are stupid enough to steal from the Lombardis.”

“No, you don’t understand! They paid me to do it! It wasn’t about the money for me! They blackmailed me. Told me they would kill my family if I didn’t do as they said. I didn’t have a choice.”

This is the same story he’s been trying to spin since he first woke up in the cellar, but I’m not buying it now any more than I was the first time I heard it.

“If someone was blackmailing you to steal from us, you should have told us, and we would have dealt with it. But instead, you betrayed us. You knew what would happen when we found out, and you did it anyway.”

“Who threatened you?” Dad asks, stepping into view of the man.

“I don’t know.” He trembles. “They never gave me a name. We only ever interacted over the phone, and the one time someone came to reinforce the threat, they wore a mask. Please, I’m begging you. I’d do anything to protect my family, and they gave me no other choice.”

For a moment I think he’s considering it, but then he pulls out his gun, his finger hovering on the trigger for a beat before unloading the clip into the man’s face.

Blood and God knows what else splash over mine and Ronan’s faces, but neither of us react. It’s not the first time we’ve been covered in brain matter, and I’m certain it won’t be the last.

“Clean this up, and then I want you to go through his financials and phone records with a fine-tooth comb.”

“We’ve already done that, and there was nothing out of the ordinary,” I tell him.

“It wasn’t a request, it was an order. If you talk back to me again, I can think of a pretty redhead that could use a beating.”

The threat is delivered just to the two of us, too low for Chloe’s father to hear it, but it has the desired effect.

He knows that Ronan will do anything to keep her safe, and he’s not above using her to get his way when it comes to my brother.

CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

RONAN

NOW

The words on the screen blur together as I follow a bouncing ball of nothing.

Corbin, who apparently works for Kingston, sent over some photos of the van that tracked us to the cabin, but no matter how hard I try to hunt down a serial number, there’s nothing. As if the fucking vehicle doesn’t exist.

I should have believed it when he told me the same thing, but I’m used to being the one that verifies this kind of thing, and I needed to see for myself.

It’s not like I have anything better to do.

With Chloe and Kingston holed up in the other room, the three of us are stuck in here with two beds and no possibility of sharing one without killing each other.

It was bad enough when I woke up with my face pressed to Ryker’s chest the other morning when Chloe snuck out of bed from between us. I don’t need a repeat of that.

Running a restless hand through my hair, I glance out into the quiet night. This town has less traffic than anywhere I’ve ever been in my life, and you would think that would make me feel more secure, but if anything, the quiet feeds my anxiety.

Knowing Chloe is in danger eats at me in a way I don’t know how to deal with, because I know exactly what it’s like to live without her, and I refuse to ever live through that again.

I glance at the door that separates the two rooms, my need to make sure she’s okay eating away at me.

After years of not knowing where she was or if she was okay, it’s almost unbearable to not have eyes on her, even if she’s safe with Kingston.

I’m almost certain they’re asleep now because any time they’re awake, her moans are like a symphony through the paper-thin walls.

It was only a matter of time before Kingston broke, especially seeing as Ryker has made it his own personal mission to assemble all the pieces of Chloe’s heart.

Looking over at the bed closest to me, I find Damon wide awake and staring at the ceiling. He’s been hot and cold about her for almost as long as I can remember, and I can’t see him caving as easily as me and Kingston have.

But stranger things have happened, and we have managed to survive a week without anyone killing each other, so all hope is not lost just yet.

He must feel my eyes on him because he meets my gaze. “You want to try to get some sleep? This bed is shit.”

I shake my head, but he sits up anyway, running a hand through his messy black hair. “I’m too wired,” I admit.

He pushes himself to his feet and pads across the room to take the seat across from me, but he doesn’t look at me. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was going out of his way to avoid meeting my eye.

“What’s going on, D? You know you can talk to me.”

He shakes his head. “Not about this.”

“Is it about Chloe?”

He doesn’t reply immediately. Instead, he stares at the door she and Kingston are on the other side of. His silence drags on for so long I wonder if he’s going to reply at all, but then he sighs, dropping his head into his hands.

“I fucked up, Ro.”

“What did you do?”

“I lied to you. When I left the compound, it wasn’t because I was running for my life. It was because Dad sent me. He told me if I didn’t come back with you and Chloe, he would hunt us down himself and that he would—” He shakes his head, his hand covering his mouth before he can finish. “He told me in great detail how painful he would make her death. I didn’t know what to do. I thought being around the bodyguard and Kingston would make the decision easy.”

“But it didn’t?” I force my voice to remain even despite the anger simmering beneath the surface. He should have told us as soon as he boarded the jet, or at any other time over the last week, and yet he didn’t. He kept it to himself. He lied to us. And every second he’s stayed with us under false pretenses has put her in more danger.

But what good will it do? The fact he’s telling me at all is proof enough of how shitty he feels about it.

As close as we are, Damon has always been a closed book, and that’s only become truer the older he’s gotten.

He shakes his head. “It feels like I’m betraying her no matter what I choose. Because I either condemn her to an easy death, or she lives the rest of her life on the run, hoping she never gets caught and forced to live out her days as a toy for our father’s men to chew up and spit out.”

The burrito I had for dinner rolls in my stomach, the visual he’s painting causing a lump to form in my throat.

Silence falls over us, but I don’t push him. He’s already opened up so much that I don’t want him to clam up again by asking more questions than I should.

“They gave me two weeks.”

I glance at the calendar on the laptop, counting out the days since he joined us. So much has happened in the last week that I’ve barely noticed the time passing, but my brother has been all too aware as every minute ticked by.

“What are you going to do?” I finally ask, but it doesn’t matter what he says. I have no choice but to tell Kingston and Ryker the truth because it’s Chloe’s life that’s in danger just as much as it is mine, and she’s not just mine anymore.

She’s ours, and there’s nothing we won’t do to protect her.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I’ve worked my whole life to take his place, Ro. I sacrificed everything for it.” His eyes flick to the door that connects the two rooms. He’s not talking about college and a social life. He’s talking about the best friend he pushed away all those years ago. “But I’ve caused Chloe so much pain already, I don’t think I could live with myself if I was responsible for another moment of it.”

“I think you have your answer, D.”

Cold blue eyes meet mine, a riot of emotions flickering through them faster than I can decipher them. “He’ll spend the rest of his life hunting us.”

“Not if we kill him.” I shrug.

“You want to kill our father?”

“If he’s a threat to Chloe, then yes.” I shrug. “It’s not like he’s been much of a father to us over the years anyway. He stopped treating us like his sons after Mom’s accident and started treating us like weapons.”

He considers me for a moment, gears turning in the back of his mind as he thinks through the options in front of him.

He can help me, or he can step to the side while I do what needs to be done to protect the family we’re building, but I won’t let him get in the way.

Not when the stakes are this high.

CHAPTER SEVENTY

CHLOE

NOW

Warmth surrounds my aching body as I’m dragged from my peaceful dreams.

I spent so many years trapped in a revolving door of nightmares, but each night I spend in their arms is like they never existed.

They don’t have the same hold on me as they did before, not now that I truly feel safe again.

Kingston presses a soft kiss to the top of my head, and I look up from where I’m resting on his chest. “Hey, Mama,” he murmurs.

“Have you been to sleep?” I yawn.

“No, I didn’t want to miss a moment of this.”

“Of my snoring?” I giggle.

“No, of having you in my arms like this. I spent years preparing my life for you, imagining what it would feel like when you were finally mine, and now that it’s here, I don’t want to waste a single second.”

My lips part but snap shut again when no words slip out.

I’ve never been rendered speechless so much in my life as I have been recently, and it’s all thanks to the four of them.

“I spent so many years planning and plotting, building what I thought was your dream life, but I should have stopped to ask what it is that you want. Will you tell me now?”

A smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I lay my head back on his chest, the steady thump of his heart the perfect background noise while I allow myself to imagine a future I never dared to hope for.

“I’d like a big house on a decent plot of land where I can have animals. Not a farm or anything, but just a couple of goats, maybe some chickens.”

A rough chuckle rumbles through his chest. “I can just imagine Ryker chasing around a herd of wayward hens.”

I scoff at the visual, but it just makes me want it more. “I want a dog and maybe some cats. And I’d like to go back to school. I don’t know what I want to do, but it just feels like something I need to do. For me, and for my parents.”

The admission falls from my lips, a thought I’ve kept to myself all these years.

“I used to feel like I was failing them by hiding away. They were so full of life and love, and it felt like I was doing them a disservice by spending my life too scared to truly live. I don’t want to feel that way anymore. I want to make sure they didn’t die in vain.”

Kingston presses a kiss to my temple, his arms tightening around me almost to the point of pain, but it’s what I need right now. “They would be so proud of you, Chloe. You were their greatest accomplishment.”

A tear falls against my cheek, my heart clenching painfully at the grief that still lives within me. I don’t think you ever recover from losing a parent, regardless of the circumstances of their death, but watching them die in front of me, watching them be tortured for days on end, I’ll never be able to get those images from my mind.

“I know, but I want to live life for them as well, because they never got the chance.”

“What else do you see in your future, Mama? Marriage? Kids? Or just a houseful of animals and a handful of lethal men that will do anything for you?”

“Would it be okay if that’s all I wanted?” I whisper, my voice trembling as I ask the one question I should have asked before I allowed all of this to get so out of hand.

“Chloe, you could tell me you wanted to open a zoo, and I would make it happen. You could tell me all you want for the future is to eat ice cream and watch shitty reality shows, and I would do everything in my power to make that a reality. If you don’t want to get married, if you don’t want kids, then that’s the end of it. You are my priority always, and giving you everything you’ve ever wanted is all that matters to me.”

Pressing my eyes closed, I desperately reach for my composure. “I don’t know that I’ll be able to get pregnant again. The first time was a miracle, and I don’t want to rest my future happiness on the shoulders of it happening again.”

“That makes sense.”

“And I don’t know about marriage. Our situation is…complicated, and I wouldn’t be able to choose between you as to who I would legally tie myself to. So it might just be easier if we don’t go down that route at all.”

“You don’t have to decide right now, Mama. We can revisit it down the road, and if you still don’t want to get married to any of us, then we’ll table it.”

I bite down on the inside of my cheek to settle the emotions rolling through my chest. “How can you be so sure all of this is going to work out?”

“Because I’ve seen the way those guys look at you. I’ve seen the panic when you’re in pain and adoration when you do something simple like sing in the shower. And I’ve spent a decade dreaming about making you mine. There’s not a single thing on this earth that could stop me from keeping you.”

I press a kiss to the skin above his heart, reveling in the steady beat beneath my lips, and for the first time in years, I allow myself to believe in the future.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

RYKER

NOW

As fucking tempted as I am to put a bullet between Damon’s eyes for lying to us and putting my girl in danger, I force myself to remain perfectly still as I listen to the brothers talk.

Ronan’s pissed. I don’t need to have known him for long to know he’s just as furious with his brother as I am, but he’s being calm and rational, two things we desperately need right now.

It’s obvious how broken up Damon is about this. He knows he’s fucked up. He knows he’s put Chloe in danger.

If shit is ever going to work out between all of us, I can’t pull a gun on them whenever they annoy me, even if it is tempting.

“If we kill him, we have to kill everyone,” Damon says at last. He’d been quiet for so long I almost forgot what they were saying.

“Then we kill everyone.” Ronan shrugs. “If it means taking him down and removing a threat from Chloe’s life, then so be it. I’m sure Ryker wouldn’t mind getting his hands dirty. He keeps talking about torturing people in his sleep.”

That does sound like me, I think to myself before frowning.

I hope I haven’t scared my siren with my sleep talking. She hasn’t said anything, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t heard it.

It probably doesn’t help that I sleep with my favorite knife beneath my pillow.

“So you’re really in this, huh? Sharing your childhood sweetheart with a serial killer and the man we’ve spent most of our lives hunting?”

“If it means keeping Chloe, fuck yeah, I’m in this. And Ryker grows on you once he stops threatening your life at every turn.” He chuckles.

I crack an eye open, making sure neither of them is looking my way, and take in the scene in front of me.

Damon no longer has his head in his hands, but his eyes are haunted with the weight of the decision he needs to make.

He shifts slightly in the uncomfortable chair I had while we ate our bland microwaved burritos, and something catches my attention.

A thin red beam cuts through the dimly lit room, and it only takes a moment to place it.

I leap out of bed, thanking past me for not bothering to get under the blankets.

“Get down!” I shout, diving for the gun I left on top of my bag.

Damon barely gets the chance to move before a bullet slices through the quiet night, cutting through the window without shattering it.

The brothers drop to the floor at the same time, crawling across the worn carpet to their own weapons.

“We need to get Chloe!” Ronan shouts as another gunshot sounds.

“Can you see anything outside?” I ask, moving toward the door that joins our rooms.

Pressing his back to the wall beside the window, he shifts the curtain slightly but quickly pulls back. “There are at least three guys out there dressed like the ones that hit the house in Connecticut.”

I curse when I find the door between the rooms locked on the other side.

“Cover me!” I shout, shoving myself to my feet and slamming my body into the door.

I’m not in direct sight of the window, but I’ve seen the shots highly trained assassins can make, and I don’t plan on taking any chances.

The flimsy wood barely puts up a fight, and I crash into the other room, crawling across the carpet to where Chloe and Kingston are still sleeping.

I don’t know how considering how much noise the gunshots are making, but it doesn’t matter right now.

All that matters is getting her to safety.

I grasp hold of the sheets and tug as hard as I can until they tumble over the edge on top of me. Having a naked Chloe on me is usually my favorite part of the day, but not so much when our lives are in danger.

“What the fuck, Ryker?” Kingston snaps.

“We’re under attack! We need to get the fuck out of here right now.”

His dark eyes turn to the window, and he curses, quickly tugging on the clothes he was wearing yesterday while I help Chloe pull on hers.

She’s barely awake, her eyes bleary but full of fear as they dart from the window to the door I destroyed on the way in.

“They’re fine, Siren. This isn’t their first gunfight, and I highly doubt it will be their last.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” she hisses.

I shove her feet into her tennis shoes and secure the laces, making sure she can run if she needs to. I fucking hope it doesn’t come to that, but I need to give her every advantage I can.

Kingston’s dark eyes meet mine before dropping to Chloe.

“I’ve got her,” I promise. “Go check on them.”

He spares us one last glance before slipping into the neighboring room where gunshots sound every few seconds.

I tuck Chloe against my side, fishing Kingston’s phone off the bedside table and dialing Corbin.

The brothers and I plotted several escape routes before we went to bed last night, but most of them are up in smoke now that the car is surrounded and both rooms are compromised.

“King,” he greets on the second ring.

“It’s me. We’re under attack. I need you to hack into the cameras around the motel and tell me how many guys we’re dealing with.”

He curses a moment before the tapping of keyboard keys fills the line.

Another burst of gunfire makes Chloe jolt against me, but I band my arm around her middle tighter, stopping her from slipping away to check on them.

There’s nothing that will get me killed quicker than allowing Chloe to be hurt.

“Fuck.”

“What is it?”

“Three vans, at least seven men, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they have you surrounded. There are no cameras around the back of the building, but given how organized they clearly are, I’d bet my life on them waiting for you to climb out of the windows in the bathroom.”

Pressing my eyes closed to gather my composure, I try to envision a way all five of us make it out of here alive without backup.

“Can you get an ID?” I ask.

“I’m running the plates now, as well as facial recognition on one guy.”

“He’s not wearing a mask?” I frown.

“Negative. He’s in a van at the back, probably thinks he’s too far away to be picked up by the cameras.”

The other end of the line is quiet for so long I start to think the call has dropped, but then Corbin curses.

“What is it?”

“I got an ID on the guy in the van,” he tells me. “It’s Sebastian Vega.”

Chloe’s eyes widen as they meet mine.

The name is vaguely familiar, but I can’t recall us ever doing business with them.

“He’s the son of Terrance Vega, the leader of a crime family with ties to the Lombardis,” Corbin adds. “But it doesn’t make sense. They wouldn’t have these kinds of resources, and I doubt they have this many people on their payroll with military-level skills.”

Another round of gunshots makes Chloe flinch, and for the first time in my life, I have no fucking clue what to do.

I’ve always been able to visualize how to end conflict like this without getting myself killed, but I’ve never had a variable I cared about more than my own heart continuing to beat.

All that matters is getting Chloe out of this motel and to safety.

“Rocco and Remy are en route to your location, but they’re at least twenty minutes away.”

“Were they nearby for a job?”

He half laughs. “We assumed that you’d need backup at some point, and King was just too stubborn to ask for it. They took a quick job a few hours away when everything was quiet after you checked in, but clearly that went to shit.”

“Clearly,” I deadpan. “Gather everything you can on the Vegas, including any recent dealings with the Lombardis and any other crime families.”

“I’m on it. You focus on getting out of there safely.”

I end the call and slip his phone into my pocket.

“Damon was engaged to Mikayla Vega,” Chloe says shakily. “They were due to be married not long after I escaped, but I don’t know what happened. I don’t know why the arranged marriage didn’t go ahead.”

Damon fucking Lombardi and his secrets are going to get us all killed, and if he puts my woman in danger one more time, I intend on following through with my threats to torture the motherfucker to death.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

CHLOE

NOW

Ishould have known things were going too well.

Even running for our lives, I felt more at peace than I have in as long as I can remember, but it was bound to come to an end before long.

Because that’s what always happens in my life. The universe gives me a glimpse at what I could have, at what happiness could look like, and then it pulls the rug out from under me like some kind of cosmic joke.

Shouts from outside mix with the gunshots from the room next door, and my senses are overwhelmed, my entire body locked up with terror.

What are the chances we all make it out of here alive?

I heard what Corbin said. I heard him tell Ryker that we’re surrounded and that there’s no way out. I was listening as he told him that backup is twenty minutes away at best.

How is it possible that I finally had everything I’ve ever wanted, only for it to be torn from me hours later?

A soft sob breaks from my chest. I should be stronger than this, I’ve survived worse. But I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve been here before.

I’ve watched the people I love most in the world be slaughtered, and now I’m afraid history is repeating itself.

Ryker turns me around in his arms, his fingers capturing my chin as he tilts my face up to look into his golden eyes. “We are not dying here, Siren. None of us. You hear me?”

I nod even though he can’t promise me that. He can’t promise that we’re all getting out of here when there’s been a continuous stream of gunshots and eventually we’re going to run out of ammunition.

There was only one bag of weapons among the rest of our stuff, and it won’t be long before we run through the bullets, leaving us defenseless.

He thrusts a gun into my hand, and it almost falls through my trembling fingers. “You know how to use this?”

I swallow. “I’ve been shooting most of my life.”

“Good. Anyone that’s not one of us comes near you, point and shoot.”

“What about the guys that work for King?”

He smirks. “They could use a few days off to recover from a gunshot wound.”

I open my mouth to respond, but he’s gone, moving closer to the window.

Ducking behind the bed, I force air into my lungs, force myself to breathe through the never-ending panic that rages through my chest.

A figure appears in the doorway, and I lock eyes with Damon, his usually emotionless face showing something I can’t ever remember seeing before.

Fear.

“You okay, Duchess?”

“Yeah,” I whisper, holding the gun against my chest.

A bullet shatters the window, tearing a startled yelp from my throat. I may have spent the last decade living with a Mafia family, but I was sheltered during that time, and since leaving, I’ve found myself in the middle of two gunfights and being kidnapped several times.

I think I’d like to go back to my sheltered life now.

“Come on, Duchess. We’re getting you out of here.”

“No. I’m not leaving them!”

A deep rumble fills the space between us. “Chloe, they cannot focus while you’re in danger. The only way we’re all getting out of here without body bags is if you’re safe away from here.”

I bite down on the inside of my cheek as I mull over the options. Or lack thereof.

My being here is a distraction, and one that could cost the men I love their lives, but leaving them feels wrong. Like I’m abandoning them in their time of need when I’m perfectly capable to helping.

“Duchess,” he growls. “If you don’t get your pretty ass up, I’m going to throw you over my shoulder and drag you out of here.”

Eyes widening, I’m tempted to challenge him on it but decide that it’s probably not the time to be a brat to any of them, especially the one that’s spent years hating me and would care the least if I died.

I look over my shoulder to where Ryker is crouched beneath the window and find him staring right at us.

“One hair on her head is harmed, and you’ll find out what it feels like to have your skin peeled off piece by piece,” he warns.

“I won’t let anything happen to her,” Damon promises, taking my hand and tugging me up.

He pulls me further into the motel room until we’re standing in the tiny bathroom staring at the smallest window I’ve ever seen.

“There’s no way you’re fitting through that.”

Without bothering to reply, he steps up onto the lid of the toilet and jimmies the lock, but it doesn’t budge. This escape plan is going downhill fast, and we haven’t even considered the people that are probably on the other side of the window.

Shouts from the front of the motel pull my attention back to the room, my heart rate kicking up another notch.

“Cover your ears, Duchess.”

“Why?”

“Just do as you’re told for once,” he snaps, the butt of his gun poised to break the window.

Deciding to pick my battles, I do as he instructed, turning my face away just in case the glass shatters in this direction.

The window breaks with ease, and he takes the towel hanging from the rail and wipes away as much of the glass as he can before turning to me.

“I’m going to go out first just in case someone is out there. When I call out, I want you to climb through, and I’ll pull you out the other side, okay?”

I nod, swallowing heavily around the lump in my throat.

He takes another moment to sweep his gaze over me, as if he’s cataloging me to memory before he feeds his huge body through the tiny window.

How he doesn’t fall out onto his face on the other side, I have no idea, but I’m glad he’ll be there to catch me when I follow his lead.

Gunfire fills the bathroom, but this time it’s coming from behind the motel, and I scramble up onto the toilet to make sure Damon’s okay.

Two bodies lie motionless at one end of the alley that runs along the back of the motel, and I find Damon crouched behind a crate, unloading his clip on another two masked men.

Bringing my trembling hands in front of me, I use the ledge to steady my aim and take a deep breath.

I can do this. I’ve been shooting my whole life. What difference does it make that it’s at someone who is trying to kill us?

I squeeze the trigger three times, taking out one of the guys and earning me an irritated growl from Damon.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay inside until I called out?”

“Yep.” I pull the trigger again, this time hitting the remaining shooter’s arm and causing him to drop his weapon.

“You’re going to get me killed by Ryker if you keep this shit up.”

“One can only hope,” I snap back.

He smirks as he takes one final shot, killing the guy I disarmed. “You and I both know you don’t mean that.”

“Do we?”

Reaching for me, Damon carefully pulls me out the small window and lowers me to the ground but doesn’t release me.

His tattooed fingers wrap around my throat, tilting my face up until I’m staring into icy blue pools that aren’t filled with their usual contempt. “Yeah, Chloe. We do.”

To prove his point, he brushes his lips over mine before dropping the softest kiss to the corner of my mouth.

“Come on, Duchess. Let’s get you out of here,” he murmurs, dropping his hand from my throat and wrapping it around my waist instead.

I’m so distracted by the feel of his lips on mine that we’re almost at the end of the alley when I realize we’ve started moving.

Damon moves me to his other side, pushing me toward the wall as his mask of indifference slips into place. “If you move from this spot before I tell you to, the denial Kingston put you through will look like a fucking walk in the park compared to what I’ll do. Got it?”

I open my mouth to respond but quickly snap it shut again.

Did Damon really just threaten me with sex?

CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

KINGSTON

THEN

TEN YEARS AGO

Chloe’s been asleep for almost fifteen hours, and I’ve checked she’s still breathing every twenty minutes since she drifted off.

It’s irrational, but I can’t help it. I can’t shake the unfamiliar anxiety that riots through my veins, and the only thing that I’ve found to help is watching her breathe like a creep.

Dragging myself out of the bedroom, I close the door behind me and cross the hall to my office.

As much as I would love to have someone else handle the business while she’s here with me, it’s not practical. Not when I’m only just starting to trust some of the men who work for me, but nowhere near enough to give anyone the keys to the kingdom.

Taking my phone from my pocket, I swipe through my notifications, each one making my shoulders tighten.

None of this matters.

Nothing matters but the woman sleeping in my bed and the baby growing inside her.

I drop into my chair and fire up the laptop.

Work has boomed recently, with more and more people getting wind of both sides of the business. The legitimate security and private investigation side and the services we offer by invitation only.

Taking out the scumbags of this world is the whole reason I built Hawk Security in the first place. After working for Salvatore Lombardi my entire adult life, I needed a change. I need a way to repent for my sins, and I haven’t looked back since that first case.

The mother of a teenager who was kidnapped on her way home from school contacted me after being turned down by every other private investigator in the area. She was desperate for someone to help her after police were convinced the girl ran away.

But she didn’t. She was taken and brutally tortured by an upstanding member of the community until she took her own life just to escape the pain.

I was too late to save her, but I could exact revenge, and I made Lenny Price pay for every single time he hurt that poor girl.

Our other services mean we can help these families for free, and if the perpetrator is someone with money behind them, we distribute most to the victims’ loved ones, keeping a percentage for ourselves to grow our reach.

We invest some to increase our portfolio, while the rest is used to hire more guys.

I glance at the door, fighting the urge to check on Chloe again, but instead I read through a few reports from cases.

Eventually I won’t be able to personally be around every case we have, but for now I like to make sure we’re crossing our t’s and dotting our i’s, especially when we dabble outside of the law.

A name catches my attention, making me pause.

Sebastian Vega.

The heir to the Vega crime family and all-around piece of shit if the tabloids are to be believed. He constantly draws negative attention to the family, forcing his father to clean up his messes at every turn.

But this is the first time his name has crossed my desk.

It’s been years since I’ve had anything to do with the Vegas, right back when I was trying to talk Salvatore out of marrying off his son to Sebastian’s sister.

Naturally, he didn’t listen to a word I said, didn’t bother to consider the reasons we shouldn’t get in bed with family so closely linked to human trafficking.

He was convinced that the benefits outweighed the risks, but even now it doesn’t sit right with me, and Damon will never be happy with Mikayla.

I may not have seen my godsons in years, and they may hate me for the part I played in their mother’s accident, but I made a promise the day I stood in front of a church and swore to protect them, and I fully intend to always keep that promise.

It’s always a risk contacting someone that knew me before I disappeared, but sometimes it’s worth it, and this is one of those times.

The phone rings a handful of times before a deep voice rumbles on the other end. “How did you get this number?” he snaps.

“Terrance, it’s been a long time.”

“Who is this?”

“It doesn’t matter who I am or how I got your number. I have a proposition for you.”

“I don’t make deals with people I don’t know.”

“You will if you want your son to keep breathing.”

He’s quiet for a beat, assessing whether I’m a real threat to his family or not.

“Have you heard from him recently?” I ask.

“No, but that’s not unusual for him. The boy is a free spirit.”

“The boy is a rapist who should have a bullet in his skull and will be lucky if that’s all he gets if you decide you don’t want to do a deal with someone you don’t know.”

To drive my point home, I text him the photo my guys took a few hours ago of his son covered in blood and bruises.

He sucks in a breath a moment later. “What do you want?”

“I want your daughter to break off her engagement to Damon Lombardi, and I want you to keep a tighter leash on your shit stain of a son to make sure he never hurts another woman. Because if I find out he has, I won’t pass off his torture to someone else. I’ll gladly do it myself and send you his body piece by piece along with proof of life until there are no pieces left to send.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“I’m the person that can tear your empire down with just a few calls to the feds. Don’t fuck with me, Terrance.”

I end the call and drop the phone onto the desk.

I’m glad I had the good sense to back up my files before I lost access to the Lombardi servers. It pays to have dirt on your enemies, even the ones you don’t think you’ll need any on.

Glancing at the photo of Caroline, the boys, and me, I allow some of the tension to bleed from my body.

Damon will pay for the pain he caused Chloe, but that revenge will be on my terms, not his shitty father’s, who wants to use his children as commodities.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR

DAMON

NOW

Isweep my gaze over the dark street, searching for threats before taking Chloe’s hand and tugging her toward the line of trees on the other side.

It’s not ideal, but there’s no chance we can get to the car, and I’m not taking any chances trying to steal one right now.

We’ll get into the woods, find somewhere to hide, and wait for the shit show happening at the motel to blow over.

My priority is making sure Chloe is safe, and right now that means hiding away when my instincts scream at me to fight.

It’s not like me to take a backseat during conflict, but I won’t let her down.

Not again.

She tugs my hand, forcing me to stop in my tracks. “Leave me here. Go back and help them, I promise I’ll stay here. I won’t follow you. Just please don’t leave them.”

I sigh and grasp her shoulders, forcing her to look up at me. “Duchess, they are highly trained. They will be fine until backup arrives, but they will kill me if they find out I left you by yourself out here.”

Her eyes dart back toward the motel, panic raging in the green I’ve spent so many years trying to avoid looking into. “I can’t leave them, Damon,” she whispers. “I can’t lose them the way I lost my parents.”

Pain radiates through my chest at her words because I did that.

I may not have been the one who pulled the trigger at the end, but I was the one who tortured Neil. I was the one who stood there and allowed them to be hurt for something I was never convinced they were guilty of.

Tugging her into my arms, I hold her tight against my chest, reveling in the feel of her after so many years.

I used to hug her every single day growing up, the feeling was burned into my mind, and I found myself craving her warmth whenever she wasn’t by my side.

And it didn’t matter how hard I tried to convince myself I hated her, that I felt nothing for the best friend whose heart I tore apart at every opportunity—it was never true.

I wanted it to be. I was desperate to hate her the way I told her I did. But when you’ve spent your entire existence loving someone, hating them is impossible.

“You’re not going to lose them, Duchess. They’re going to be just fine and back to annoying the shit out of me by the time the sun rises.”

Perhaps I shouldn’t make promises I can’t keep, but if it means keeping Chloe safe, I’ll tell as many lies as I have to.

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. You think Ronan pined after you for a decade, never touching another woman, just to die when he finally has you? You think Kingston spent years rebuilding his life so there was a safe place for you just to leave you? And don’t get me started on that golden retriever you call a bodyguard. There’s nothing on this earth that can take them from you, Chloe.”

For a moment I think she’s going to argue, but then she leans into my chest and her arms wrap around me, holding me just as tight as I’m holding her.

I try to think about the last time I was hugged, and my stomach clenches when I realize I can’t think of when it was or who hugged me.

I’ve lived half my life without love, without affection, just to be dragged straight back into Chloe’s orbit.

Headlights on the road remind me what we’re running from, and I drop a quick kiss to the top of her head before pulling away.

“Come on, Duchess. Let’s find somewhere safe to hide until it’s safe.” I clutch her hand in mine, tugging her a few steps further into the trees, but then I hear it.

It’s so quiet that most people would miss it, but I’d know the safety flicking off a gun even in the loudest of rooms.

I look up just in time to see a masked man approaching us. His steps are precise, but he never takes his eyes off us.

“Drop the guns,” he demands.

His voice isn’t familiar, which just confirms my father isn’t behind this, but it would be easier if he was. I know him, I know how he operates, and I’ve spent years studying his men in preparation for becoming their boss.

A soft sob vibrates through Chloe’s body as she follows his order. We spent years training her to make sure she had the best chance at survival if she were ever caught in a position like this one, and the most important lesson we taught was to always comply.

My grip tightens around my own weapon as I consider how quickly I could get a shot off. I’m quick, but am I willing to risk Chloe getting shot because my ego tells me I can beat this motherfucker?

No.

I swallow around the lump in my throat and toss my gun a few feet away, angling my body in front of Chloe’s in the process.

“Damon,” she hisses.

“If you get the chance to run, you run as fast as you can. You got me?”

“I can’t leave you here,” she whispers.

“It wasn’t a request, Duchess. Do as you’re told.”

I don’t give her a chance to argue again before I focus my attention on the gun pointed at us.

This is far from the first time I’ve been held at gunpoint, but it’s different when Chloe’s life is in danger. The thrill I’ve come to crave is missing, and in its place is terror.

“To the road,” he orders.

“Just take me,” I say calmly. “You don’t need her. She’s nobody.”

The words burn as they fall from my lips, but just like every cruel word I’ve said about her over the years, it’s necessary.

“Boss wants the both of you.”

Chloe sucks in an unsteady breath behind me, and I long to reassure her, to tell her everything is going to be okay, but if I allow him to take us to a secondary location, I can’t keep that promise.

Taking a step toward the road, I keep my eyes trained on the gun.

Chloe follows my lead, her hand grasping the back of my shirt as if it’s the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

The sound of gunfire at the motel gets louder when we step back onto the side of the road, and I notice another man beside the van, the back doors wide open.

Fuck.

I curse myself for not grabbing another gun on my way out of the room, but there weren’t any to spare, not when I was leaving them a man down and under fire.

“Step away from one another,” the guy by the van orders.

Chloe’s hold on my shirt tightens as she sucks in a stuttered breath.

Fear radiates off her in waves, and I would do anything to take that away from her right now.

She does as he says, stepping out to the side until there are a few feet between us, and I feel every inch of that distance.

He points the gun at Chloe, motioning for her to get into the van first.

I want to scream at her to run, beg her not to comply, but she won’t.

If there’s one thing I know about Chloe, it’s that she won’t leave me behind. Even though I’ve been endlessly cruel to her, I’ve hurt her at every opportunity, I tortured her fucking father in front of her and almost allowed her to be killed, she still wouldn’t leave me, and that’s how I know I’ll never be good enough for her.

I’ll never be worthy of her light.

Tears fall against her cheeks as she steps forward.

Her eyes flick up to meet mine, and the fear staring back at me is worse than any pain I can remember.

I move before my mind can talk me out of it, my need to protect her forcing me forward without assessing the risk.

“Damon, no!” Chloe shouts, shaking off the masked assailant by the van to sprint toward me at the same time the other guy pulls the trigger.

The gunshot slices through the quiet night, and I brace for the pain.

But it never comes.

A small body slams into me so hard they knock me off balance.

Pain radiates through my tailbone when I hit the ground, my head swimming for a moment as I try to get my bearings.

But when the world stops spinning and I’m left staring up at Chloe, it’s not the pain in her eyes that catches my attention.

It’s the blood seeping through her sweater and onto her hands.

The last fifteen years flash through my mind.

Every cruel word I said to her.

Breaking my own heart over and over to protect her.

Denying myself the only thing I ever truly wanted.

But as I stare at the growing crimson stain, I realize it wasn’t enough.

Because when it really mattered, I failed her.

To be continued…

Chloe’s story will conclude in Stay Little Fighter, coming late September 2026.

THANK YOU

Thank you for reading Hide Little Traitor! When I dreamed up this cliffhanger, I knew I was going to be in trouble, but I promise book 3 isn’t far behind!

If you enjoyed Hide Little Traitor, it would mean the world to me if you could review it on Amazon, Goodreads, Social Media, carrier pigeon, I’m not fussy.

You can follow me on Facebook and Instagram or my reader group, for sneak peaks of future projects, including release dates and secret snippets!

Curious about Camilla and her men? Start Syndicate of the Legion, A Bestselling Dark Mafia Why Choose Series, with In the Shadows here! Keep reading for a sneak peak!

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I’ll never be able to adequately describe my gratitude to this series and these characters, because they truly made me fall in love with writing again.

Chloe and her guys are a reminder that love is not linear. It is messy and toxic at times, but there are HEA’s out there for us all.

I can’t believe we’re already past the halfway mark and before we know it Chloe and her guys will have their very own HEA. I’ve loved every second of writing these books and I hope you’re enjoying the ride, cliffhangers and all.

As always, I’m incredibly grateful for everyone that reads any of my books. When I started publishing, I did it to tick off a bucket list item, but I never could have imagined it turning into my dream career.

To Mr. Fyre who keeps the wheels turning whenever I’m on a deadline. Who had to bribe me with snacks to hit my deadline for this book. Thank you for putting up with my trash panda chaos and loving me through it.

To Ellie, my wonderful editor, who is probably sick of moving my commas around and picking up all my Australianisms.

To Kasey and the team at Literally Yours, and Samantha and the team at Smuthood, thank you for everything you do to get word out about my books.

And to my wonderful readers. The new, the OG’s, and the ones who picked up one of my books based on an unhinged quote and stuck around. Thank you for making all my dreams come true.

PROLOGUE

CAMILLA

Most girls get a big party for their eighteenth birthday.

They get gifts and loving words from their friends and family. They get to spend the day with their loved ones, showering them with attention and celebrating their coming into adulthood.

Not me, though.

No. Instead of a big party, I got told today’s my wedding day. I’m marrying a man I’ve never met, one who’s twenty years my senior, to pay a debt my father has owed since I was still in my mother’s stomach.

I’m not stupid, I know arranged marriage is normal for families like mine, expected even. I just never thought I would fall victim to one. But maybe I should have known. Now that I think back on the last eighteen years, there are things that don’t make sense, moments when my father looked at me with sadness at a time when everyone else felt nothing but happiness.

He waited until today to tell me. I’m not sure whether to be mad that he’s ruined my birthday or happy I got to live in blissful ignorance up until the very last moment. All I know is that this morning when I came down for breakfast, I was met with my father’s dejected eyes and the news I had just spent my last night in my own bed and woke up for the last time in the home I grew up in.

As far as Mafia lives go, ours has always been fairly normal. Or at least I think it has based on what I’ve seen of the other families in New York. Sure, we have security twenty-four-seven, and yes, I do have to log every movement I make before I make it, but I’ve been free to make my own choices up until now. I haven’t been bound by generations of tradition to play the dutiful daughter.

Or at least that’s what I thought. Now I think I’ve been led up the garden path into a world of false security, only to have the rug pulled out from under me. I thought I would take my father’s place eventually. He’s been training me for that eventuality for as long as I can remember, but now I’m not sure why he bothered. If he always planned to hand me over, why not spend that time training my cousin to take his place?

“Camilla,” Chloe, our housekeeper, says from behind me, and I realize I’ve been staring into my suitcase, completely unaware of the world going on around me while mine stands still. My future is scary and uncertain, and I don’t know how to navigate everything that comes next. “It’s going to be okay, sweetheart.” She rubs my shoulder, but I can’t drag my attention from the clothes piled in the bag I took to Paris last month.

Will I ever be able to travel again?

Will I get the chance to complete my bucket list?

Or will I become a baby farm until my usefulness wears out? Until I’ve produced enough heirs for Charles Davenport to pass his legacy down to? When I’m no longer useful, will he let me go? Or will he kill me and dump my body at the bottom of the ocean?

I give Chloe a weak smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. Hell, the thing barely even reaches my lips. I’m sad to leave the house I grew up in, but more than that, I’m sad to leave my family, because I have no idea when I’ll see them again or if I will at all.

Chloe was my nanny growing up after my mother died of cancer when I was eight, and she effectively became my mom. She was patient and kind, and she guided me to be the best person I could, considering the family I was born into. But she never prepared me for being married off to a man in his late thirties and how to navigate that.

When I was old enough to look after myself, she decided to stay on staff. The perks when working for the De Marco family are pretty good, and although what she’s told me has been limited, I’ve always wondered if there’s something in Chloe’s past she’s running from. She’s only ten years older than me, barely out of high school when she took on the position in our home, but there are stories in her eyes I’ve often wondered about.

Someone clears their throat by the door, and when I look up, I’m met with my father’s regretful gaze. After he told me, I lost it. I yelled and screamed and begged him not to make me go through with this, but he’s already made up his mind. Hell, he made it up before I took my first breath. Why would I expect him to change it now?

I never bothered asking why he would do this. What could possibly be so important as marrying his oldest, and only, for that matter, daughter, off to someone as cold and terrifying as Charles?

“Camilla.”

“Father.” I drag my attention back to the task at hand. If I spend too much time looking at him, I’ll break. I grew up in a Mafia family, and if there’s one thing I learned over the last eighteen years, it’s that weakness is a death sentence. He spent years teaching me how to live in this world, but nothing could have prepared me for this eventuality.

The door clicking shut pulls my eyes back up, and I find his own darting around the room. “We don’t have much time.”

“Until my new husband sends for me?” I sneer. The word leaves a bitter taste on my tongue, and bile rises in my throat. I’ve never thought much about getting married. I wasn’t one of those little girls who dreamed of their wedding and their Prince Charming, but now I’m forced to consider my imminent vows and what they’ll mean for my future. I almost scoff at myself. That’s not the right word for the life sentence my father has given me.

Stupidly, I thought one day I would rule the De Marco kingdom. I’m my father’s only child, and the only other person who could ever take the throne is my asshole cousin, Scott. But he’s not fit to be king, and his father is never lucid enough to be of any threat to my position. But I guess I never considered the possibility of being traded like a piece of fucking meat either.

“You need to leave right now,” he whispers, rushing toward me with an envelope I didn’t see in his hand before. “There’s a new identity, a plane ticket, and enough money to see you through a few months in here. You need to run as far and as fast as you can.”

I stare at him blankly for long moments, because it sounds a lot like he’s helping me escape, but that would mean double-crossing the Davenport family, and that in itself is a death sentence. “I don’t understand.”

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “There is a long story that comes with how you came to be promised to Charles, but I want you to know that I never wanted this to happen. I thought I’d be able to buy him off, that I could offer him something else he may want, but as your birthday got closer, he’s become more obsessed with you, and I can’t send you to him. I refuse to have my baby girl fall into hands like his.”

“But Dad⁠—”

“No, Camilla. There’s no time for arguments. I love that you have your mother’s fire, but right now, I need you to go. Get out of New York, start a new life, and never look back.”

I look over his shoulder at Chloe, who’s zipping up my suitcase, and I realize she must have known about this when she was helping me pack. It makes sense. While I was aimlessly throwing shit anywhere it would fit, she was gathering necessities and packing them carefully in the same case. She was getting me ready to run.

I turn back to my father and nod before I’ve thought it through. “He’s going to come for you,” I whisper.

“Let him.”

ALSO BY MONTANA FYRE

LOMBARDI LEGACY (DARK MAFIA WHY CHOOSE ROMANCE)

Run Little Liar

Hide Little Traitor

Stay Little Fighter

MAFIA MATCHMAKER (DARK MAFIA ROM COM)

The One Night Match

The Stalker Match

The Double Match (Coming Late 2026)

FROST INDUSTRIES (DARK MAFIA ROMANCE)

When it Raynes

Dead of Wynter

Fall of Snow

Before the Storm

TAINTED LOVE (DARK ROMANCE)

Severed Ties

Fractured Vows

Shattered Promises

SYNDICATE OF THE LEGION (DARK WHY CHOOSE ROMANCE)

In the Shadows

They Will Burn

From the Ashes

We Will Rise

FORBIDDEN PLEASURES (DARK ROMANCE)

Trust in the Fallen

Pray for the Damned

Beg for the Wicked

THE HUNTER AND THE THIEF DUET (DARK STALKER ROMANCE)

While She Sleeps

While He Breathes

FOREST FALLS (COLLEGE HOCKEY ROMANCE)

Wager

Flight

Fight

Betray