**TRISTAN** "...Get your fucking uncle in order!" Detonations and a feminine scream accompanied the angry order. For Eros to call it a glock, he was in trouble. I groaned, leaving the mini bar, the half-filled glass forgotten for a moment. It was almost two, and here I was, still drinking myself to stupor. "Tristan! Are you there?!" Eros's voice cut through my confusion. The screeching, the gunfire—it was all giving me a headache. "Jesus Christ, man! I'm going to die. Call your fucking uncle!" I massaged the side of my head, walking to the window. "Why do you think it's Nico?" "I don't know..." he snarled. "Maybe because he's been on my case since he found out about the little sessions you have with M..." He stopped himself just in time. I bit back a smile. "Just call your uncle and sort this shit out!" I walked back to the counter, taking the tumbler and listening to its quiet slosh. Picking up the house phone, I punched in the very familiar number. At the first ring,
Dinner with Jake was surprisingly pleasant. The awkwardness I had expected never arrived. Instead, we talked—about school, books, and random little things that didn’t seem important but filled the silence in a way that made me feel... normal. He wasn’t overbearing, didn’t ask invasive questions. For once, I didn’t feel like I had to guard every word I said.Afterward, we sat on his small couch, our plates balanced on the coffee table, the dim kitchen light spilling into the living room. He owned one of the nicest spots in the neighborhood. Considering how much he worked, I understood why—but I couldn’t fathom how he kept the place so spotless. Like he read my thoughts, he said, “Left home at sixteen, moved to D.C., found a job my first week, loved the pay, and haven’t looked back since.” When I stayed quiet, he shrugged. “I wanted to make it clear—I’m not trying to make you my next dinner or something.” I smiled, comforted by his easygoing tone. “Not that.” My eyes wandered ar
**JADE** "...It's one-two, two, one-two, three! And spin! Jade, Jade McCoy, what is up with you today?!" The coach yelled. I had no clue, but suddenly, the gown felt too tight—so tight I struggled for air instead of skating. Then came the gunfire, suddenly piercing my thoughts, leaving me gasping, panting, and almost tripping. It's Monday, and I can't concentrate. I almost died in an intense gun chase, and they wouldn’t know it. I fainted in the car. Listening to Eros banter with the person on the other end made my stomach churn. It told me everything I needed to know: *They had come for him*. He was used to this. As I fainted, I wondered why he never pulled out a gun—for I damn well knew he had one. I woke up in his house, still fully dressed, on a bed that smelled like him. He lived big—I listened to the quiet house—and alone, too. I snatched my coat, ready to race out of wherever this place was. But opening the door, there he was, drying his wet hands with a towel.
For the rest of the week, Tristan didn’t so much as breathe in my direction. It probably had something to do with the fact that I avoided both the rink and the canteen. Instead, I spent most of my days in the chemistry lab. Nat was always around, and whenever she was, most of our experiments ended up blowing up in our faces. We laughed until our stomachs hurt, quickly cleaning up the mess before the teachers noticed. The sharp smell of chemicals clung to our clothes as we left the lab, giggling like kids who had just gotten away with a prank. At home, the silence felt heavier than usual. Mum was out more often, and even when she was around, she seemed distant. Whenever I caught her, she smelled like scented candles. With all this free time, I buried myself in reading. My phone stayed silent—so unlike it usually was. I couldn’t help but wonder if Jade was okay. Friday arrived too quickly, knocking me off my feet. Every breath felt heavier as I reminded myself: It’s just a date. No
"So?" Jake raised an expectant brow, his eyes alight with anticipation. "You like it?" I chewed the venison, savoring the burst of flavor on my tongue, even as discomfort churned in my stomach. Swallowing, I glanced up. "You really gonna ask that about every dish I try?" Jake smiled sheepishly. "Maybe I just want everything to be perfect for you." Before I could answer, his hand reached out, covering mine. "I'm so glad you're here." Was I? Glad to be here? Not when I could feel Tristan’s gaze boring into me—suffocating tension thickened the air, heavy enough to slice with a knife. My stomach twisted. Our table was positioned just right—or wrong—so if I turned my head even slightly, I’d see him. And Tristan wasn’t making it easy to ignore. Like now. His eyes locked onto mine, unrelenting, before dropping to Jake's hand over mine. The glare that followed could’ve frozen hell over. I pulled my gaze back to Jake, forcing a smile. I didn’t want to be here. Being this close to Trist
**MYLES**"...If you think that's good, then you need to try this," Jake said when he was suddenly surrounded by three suited men, who loomed over him. "You'll need to come with us, sir," one of the men recited. "You're being detained for identity theft." My frown mirrored Jake's as I looked up at the men, who seemed to be closing in on our table with every second. "Uh," Jake began, an uncertain wry smile on his face as he looked from me to the men, "Is this a joke?" He laughed again. "It’s a joke, right?" The men didn’t look like they were joking. "Sir, we'd like for you to step outside." Jake’s laughter faded as he realized the suited men weren’t playing around. He glanced at me, his face contorting with confusion, then back at the men, who had stepped closer, their presence suffocating the space between us. "Woah." Jake rose quietly, as if careful not to draw attention, though it was already too late. "What identity theft? You don’t even know my name." "Jake Carter,"
**DOMENICO** [Third Person] Above the restaurant, behind the glass walls, Domenico sat on a sofa, watching his nephew stand behind the boy. A boy he'd seen in pictures, but now here, in the flesh. His hands clenched into fists against the arm of the chair, his pulse pounding with heat racing through his veins. What were the odds? “He still isn’t picking up,” Connor’s voice broke the silence, drawing closer. Domenico could feel the concern in his tone. “You shouldn’t have come here yourself.” Domenico stood, running a hand through his hair, trying to blink away what he'd just seen. So much for a fucking transactional relationship. He poured himself a drink, raised the glass to his lips—and then hurled it across the room. Rage clouded his gaze as the glass shattered into a thousand glittering shards beneath the blood-red lights above. He knew. He always knew when something was going wrong, when all his hard work teetered on the edge of ruin. The boy—Myles, or whatever the f
**MYLES** Thunder rumbled overhead, lightning illuminating the room in quick flashes. But even the storm couldn’t distract me from what he was doing to me. The kiss—his touch—it wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t even a kiss. It was torture. Torture he inflicted as he pressed me against the wall, his fingers fumbling with my zipper. I should’ve shoved him away again. I should’ve done anything but melt into him. But I didn’t. I kissed him back, matching his pace, my fists curling into the front of his shirt as his tongue slid against mine, claiming me. I pulled him closer, craving the heat of his body against mine. Soon, I was gasping for air. I tried to pull away, but he didn’t budge. My head spun as I groaned softly into his mouth, yet he still didn’t relent. I could feel his arousal pressing against my thigh, his fingers digging into my skin. Just when I thought I’d pass out, he pulled back. I struggled to catch my breath, my wide eyes fixed on his chest as the cool air hit
I dashed into the hospital, unsure where I was going, ignoring the nurses calling after me with warnings and Jake throwing them apologies as he hurried to get me."Calm down, Myles," he said after snatching me by the shoulders. "You won't find your mum if you lose control. Calm down."So I did, reining in my panic and following behind him as he led me past numerous white doors. According to what he told me, she’d collapsed on the terrace and was just fortunate he was passing by, so he’d taken her to the hospital.Collapsed. Mum never collapsed—she wouldn’t. Mum was strong, but maybe, just maybe, she’d been strong for too long.Five minutes later, I quietly turned a knob and silently walked into a ward, just in case she was asleep, but I was relieved to find her talking to a nurse.When she saw me, a tired smile broke across her lips, and despite my damn self, tears began to brush my lids.I stopped, staring down at her bed, scared that if I spoke, I’d break down completely—in front of
MYLES."...And he threw a tantrum. Can… you imagine that…" Natalie's voice trailed, her eyes darting hesitantly between Jade and Leo, then back at me.I shrugged."Uhh, are you two alright?"Obviously not, because at that question, Leo narrowed his gaze toward me, and Jade to Natalie. Did they get into a fight? Swallowing a mouthful of Coke, I glared. "You're dampening the table. What's going on?""Dampening the table?" Leo scoffed bitterly. "Jade looks quite happy, don’t you think?"I turned to Jade, whose gaze was just as fiery as Leo's. Muttering something unintelligible, she dropped her eyes to the table, pretending to study her fingers.Since middle school, when we became friends, Leo and Jade had never been so openly mad at each other. What exactly happened in the space of yesterday?Natalie gave a slow shrug, picked up her can of soft drink, and continued, “…so I told him I had someone I liked, so I didn’t want anything serious with anyone else, and he got mad.”Jade forced a l
**MYLES** I should’ve kept my mouth shut. Sticking my nose where it didn’t belong, trying to defend someone who, for all I knew, got himself into this mess to begin with. If there weren’t traces of him being a cold-hearted, manipulative jerk, maybe his uncle wouldn’t have singled him out of seven billion people on Earth. What did I care if he was being used? I glanced at the bathroom door, listening to the shower still running. It’d been almost an hour since he went in. Was he... I squared my shoulders and sank back against the sofa. The question was: *was he being used?* With how easily he got into people’s heads... I rolled up my sleeves, staring at the red dent around my wrist, and grimaced. *Fucking Asher.* If this wasn’t karma, I had no idea what was. In the shadows, he’d pinned me against the wall, his eyes fixed on the hickeys on my neck. Smirking, he’d said, “He’s a big fish. I don’t even blame you.” His face twisted into mock hurt as his grip on my wrist tightened.
We stayed in silence, eyes locked, and every time his hardened, I felt my rage soar. He got it all wrong. He thought—that I... and Tristan... He got it all fucking wrong.His eyes lit up—snarky, intrusive, amused—as he raised his glass, swirling the deep crimson liquid with a dark kind of menace. The silence grew heavier, and for just a flicker of a moment, I swore I saw something cross his face. Regret? No. That couldn’t be it.Or maybe the terror was finally making me lose my damn mind."You’re ruining everything I’ve built." His voice came soft, dangerous, a murmur threaded with warning, like he was talking more to himself than me. I froze."Tristan isn’t just anyone," Domenico continued, his eyes flicking up to mine, sharper than a knife. "He’s my sweat, my blood, and my empire."I stopped, narrowing my eyes.He said it like that meant something. Like Tristan wasn’t flesh and bone, wasn’t someone who laughed, who smirked, who... cared. No—Domenico didn’t see Tristan as a person at
TRISTANThroughout the ride to the Manor, Myles doesn’t look at me. His eyes stay fixed on the windshield, watching the lights spill onto his ashen face. His fingers tighten around the strap of his bag.The vans continued to follow behind us, their bright lights illuminating the road. Each time they beeped, Myles flinched.What was going through his mind? I wanted to know. If only I could read his eyes, but he didn’t spare me a glance.“Questions you want to ask?” I broke the silence as I parked in the center of the Manor's compound, questionable-looking men surrounding us, surrounding him. Waiting for us to get out.Myles finally looked at me, his eyes hard and accusing. “Something tells me I’m about to have them answered anyway.”It stung.I shut my eyes and exhaled. “You’ll be out of here in no time. He’s my uncle; he’s not going to hurt you.”But Myles, a bitter smile crossing his face, glanced around the compound and muttered, “Your uncle. Well,” his hand reached for the door, wh
EROSThe chase had stopped, ever since the night they spotted him scaling Jade's window. He hadn’t seen them again.Perhaps the Godfather decided Myles wasn’t worth the fuss now that he was no longer seeing his most priceless possession. But the real question was—would Tristan keep it that way?Eros had known the bastard since they were eleven, the grey-eyed boy whose gaze was just as soulless as the Boss’s—maybe worse. The only human who could make the Boss’s demeanor shift.They became friends, more out of necessity than connection, but as days passed and chaos surrounded Eros at every turn, he realized maybe the grey-eyed monster wasn’t so bad. Eros knew bad—his father, his stepbrother—but Tristan? Tristan had looked out for him.So, they became best friends. Even though Tristan was always one step away from plunging him into his grave, he had also always found a way to get him out of it.It was over, right? His father didn’t want him dead anymore, right? So why was he squatting by
‘Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep Beeeeeeeeeeeeeep…’ The sound grated against my nerves, cutting through the quiet of the afternoon. Standing at my window, I resisted the urge to grab my hockey stick and chuck it at the smug bastard below.Tristan sat casually in the driver’s seat of his sleek black car, his head tilted back like he had all the time in the world. He didn’t look impatient—no, that would require some level of normal human behavior. Instead, his gaze was locked on me, sharp and unyielding, as if daring me to ignore him.I cursed again, clutching the strap of my practice bag. He said four. Four! Not three, not three-thirty—four. And yet here he was, honking like a madman an hour early, as though time itself bent to his whims.I glanced at the clock again. 3:01.He’d been here for one minute and already made it feel like an eternity.Taking a deep breath, I swung the window open and leaned out. "Tristan, what the hell are you doing?"He grinned up at me, that infuriatingly perfect smi
JADE "What the hell is he doing?" Natalie sneered, her eyes—along with hundreds of others—fixed on the figure at the center of the school wielding a water pipe. "That's nudity! How do they allow it?" Leo cleared his throat loudly, flipping a page of his book. "Apparently, you're the only one not into him. Right, Myles?" Myles frowned at Leo. "What does that mean?" Leo said nothing, returning his gaze to the show before us. At the center of the school compound, watering the flowers lined along the walls, was Tristan. But somehow, it seemed the pipe had gone out of control, drenching the thin white shirt he wore. The material clung to his skin, leaving little to the imagination. From the second floor, we had a perfect view, close enough to make out every swell of his muscles—and by God, was this Greek god built. Girls oohed and ahhed, swooning each time he moved, each time he looked up squinting, and every damn time he "accidentally" flexed. But I saw it. None of this was a clums
**TRISTAN**After the brawl in my house days ago, I drove back to the condo, three pairs of eyes digging into my face, waiting for me to spill. I walked past them, striding to my room and turning in the key.In the darkness, I lay, watching the wall, my phone beside me, waiting for the call, yearning for the ring. His rage etched on his face replayed in my head. For an addict desperate for a taste of him, I really continued to fumble things up.He was going to call. He had to call.Two days later, he did. "Can you pick me up?"He didn’t need to ask twice. I just didn’t expect to see him there—in the parking lot of a hidden bar. Stopping right in front of him, Myles dove into the front seat, eyes pinned out of the windshield, hands still stuck in his pockets.Without another word, I drove down the road to the condo, waiting for his protest, but it never came. I kept the silence, my thoughts filling with questions I needed to ask.But it was as though Myles was hell-bent on making me su