JACQUE RHODES I used to think that there were only so many moments in life that would move a man to his very foundations. The birth of a child. The death of someone he loved. The realization that he wasn't as in control as he had once thought.Finding out my daughter had been alive all these years? A moment that splintered everything.Carly had cried when we met her. She hadn't cried that way in years-not when we buried the child we believed was gone, not when the years went by with no answers. But there she was, real and alive, standing before us with piercing eyes and a suspicious look that said of struggles we had never stood beside her to fight.And then, just as abruptly as she came-she left.I held the edges of my desk so tightly my knuckles whitened. The glass of whiskey before me went untasted. The storm outside the house matched the one raging inside me.She left with him.That man. Daniel.A stranger. But within that one look, I hated him. Not for believing him unworthy. Bu
KLAUS The vehicle was too damn quiet.Not quiet enough to give you calm. This was more the sort that clung to the air, heavy on your chest, forcing it to struggle to breathe. It was oppressive, thick with things unspoken, tension so fragile it would cut you.Daniel was beside me in the passenger seat, as stiff as a rod of steel. His hands had not moved since he got into the car-still fists, still pressed against his thighs like he was holding himself together with determination.In the back window, Rebel was sitting back there with her back to the glass. I couldn't tell what she was feeling, but I could see the tension in her posture. Her shoulders were back, she was rigid. Like she was steeling herself for something.She didn't know.Daniel was not just angry. He wasn't just irritable.He was scared.And I'd never seen him do that before.I gritted my teeth and gripped the wheel. The ride went on, nothing but the vibration of the road beneath the wheels and the occasional shift of R
CARLY RHODESI had a hollow in my chest for twenty-two years.A hollow where my daughter should have been.When I first heard her name spoken aloud-Rebel-I came close to collapsing. My husband steadied me before my knees could strike the floor, but nothing could catch the breath that left my body.Rebel.My little girl.All these years, I had dreamed about this moment. A reunion, a miracle. I had dreamt of the time when I would have her in my arms, kiss her hair, and say how much I had missed her.But standing there before me now, staring at the young woman standing before me, I realized something awful.She didn't recognize me.And worse-she didn't care.She stood stiffly by a man whose presence alone had the air thick with tension, a man whose fingers lay possessively at the base of her spine, poised for her to run at any moment. His dark eyes fixed me, unreadable and calculating.But it wasn't him I was afraid of.It was her.Her cold, hard eyes. The way she stood like a soldier go
REBEL The house was too quiet as we returned, yet I was pissed, so much so that I hadn't spoken a word as we returned home. It wasn't the quiet of a peaceful stillness that had settled over the house when everything was all right. It was the heavy, crushing quiet—the kind that sat on my chest and made breathing difficult. I stood in the middle of the living room, my arms crossed so tightly they ached. Daniel sat opposite me, his posture unselfconsciously loose. But I knew it for what it was. His hands were jammed into pockets, his feet firmly planted, and his face impassive. But the tension emanating from him was tangible. He knew I was mad this time around. He's always gone overboard but this was crossing a line he shouldn't have and the consequence is dawning on him now. He knew what was going to happen. I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice level. "How long?" Daniel didn't pretend not to know. He breathed slowly and deliberately before speaking. "A while." I cle
MICHAEL The restaurant was quiet, the kind where people whispered and the air stank of expensive wine and aged wood. I sat at a table in the rear corner, back against the wall, eyes on the door. Old habits never died, no matter how much time passed. Jacque Rhodes walked in five minutes later, his presence commanding even in the dim lighting. He was tall, with a build of a man who'd never known frailty, and he had on a crisp black suit that probably cost more than most individuals made in a year. His eyes found me right away. I didn't stand when he approached, but when he reached the table, I did rise, extending a hand. "Jacque." "Michael." His handshake was strong, the kind that betrayed strength and dominance, but I missed the stiffness in his posture. He was a man used to being in control, used to repairing things with power and money. But this? This was something that power and money couldn't fix. We sat, and Jacque shooed the waitress away before she had a chance to
MIA I didn't need Robert, not really. But I was here anyway.I came because no matter what it is that I do, he'd never even look at me. Once upon a time he cared, he never loved me but he cared. He used to give me every material and I never cared about his many whores yet immediately he met her, he wouldn't even let any female close to him. What is it that she has that I don't?, What makes her different or special? Now, I've discovered that she is the daughter to my employers who are practical royalties rolling in their billions, their heiress. She has everything without even trying. The restaurant was upscale, the kind of place where corporate executives cut deals over hundred-dollar steaks and old whiskey. Dark, quiet, reserved. The perfect place for a conversation that no one else needed to hear about. I smoothed my silk shirt over, ignoring the tightness in my chest. The last I'd had the displeasure of seeing Robert was when he'd stood in the shadows, watching with that sneeri
ROBERT The club was dark, throbbing with slow, hypnotic rhythms that shook the floor. The conversations were submerged under the music, and that was exactly why we were there. Somewhere like this guaranteed discretion—nobody paid attention to anyone unless they were half-naked or waving cash. I slid into the frayed leather booth in the back, my back against the wall. A waiter hovered nearby, but I pushed him aside. I wasn't here to drink. The man across from me, on the other hand, had a glass of whiskey in front of him, twirling it slowly like we had all the time in the world. He was older, around forty maybe, with a tailored suit that yelled money. There wasn't anything particularly conspicuous about him—no scars, no tattoos to flash, nothing that would make him stand out in a crowd. That was precisely what made him so deadly. He was the kind of man who worked behind the scenes, the kind you did not see approaching until it was too late. "You're late," he said to me, voice smoo
MICHAEL I arrived ten minutes early to the restaurant. It was a habit I never quite broke, the urge to scope out a place before sitting down. Old habits don't die, not when you've spent years protecting someone. Rebel wasn't here yet, which didn't surprise me. She wasn't one who hurried into meetings, especially ones she hadn't agreed to attend in the first place. I had no doubt she was already deciding whether to step through that door or turn around and pretend she never got my message. The waiter stopped by, menu in hand, but I waved him away. I was busy looking at the door. And then, like clockwork, she walked in, shoulders squared, eyes slitted. She was dressed casually, but there was nothing casual about her. Rebel walked like a person on the hunt for a brawl. She spotted me immediately and walked over, she's wearing a short black dress and ankle boots. She gives me a hug and a peck before sliding across the seat from me. You look good," I said, inspecting her. She d
REBEL As I walked home, the door shut behind me with a click, but the tension still stuck to my body like smoke. Daniel stood a couple of steps back, jaw clenched, shirt torn where a knife had nearly kissed his ribs. His eyes raked the hallway like he didn't think the quiet. I didn't either. "You okay?" he asked finally, voice low but with a hint of worry he was trying too damn hard to hide. "Are you?" I said, shedding my jacket. Blood, not my own, stained the sleeve. "You got hit." "Not deep." "Still hit." He didn't answer that. Michael and Mex sprinted past us through the foyer, their steps light but alert. Michael caught my eye and I nodded. He didn't grin, but his shoulders relaxed. Barely. The house remained still—too still. "Security system's been reset," Daniel growled, glancing at his phone. "Cameras caught a blur, but they scrambled the feed. Pros. Klaus is locking down the house." Of course they were. This wasn't a warning. This was a message. "We nee
DANIEL It's been a whole week of staying hidden, communicating with the kids via chats; Rebel is still mad at me but that doesn't even matter anymore. I tried letting go but couldn't and now I have no intention of ever letting go anymore. It's time to end the silent treatment. I take off my clothes and make my way to the bathroom as I hear the water running, her back stiffens the moment I step in but I move in without the slightest hesitation all the same. I get into the tub behind her stark naked then I gather her beautiful hair curls and put them sideways before kissing her temple. "I know you're still mad, I am sorry, I will spend the rest of my life making up for everything but we must be on the same page now, there are too many lives at stake if we don't get it together". She scoffs "Doesn't mean I have to forgive you nor do I have to let you touch me at all". I laugh softly "True but we both know I'd do all those things all the same". I spin her around and make her f
KENNEDY WILLIAMS The cigar smoke still lingered in the air hours after I'd had to stub the thing out. I sat behind the desk, fingers together, waiting. The door opened. Three of them entered, none of them willing to look me in the eye. That was answer enough before a word was spoken. "So," I said, voice as slick as the leather chair I rested in, "I gave you one simple assignment. One target. One bullet. And still, Daniel is alive." The kind of silence that tested a man's endurance. I reclined, the chair creaking gently under the shift of my weight. "You had him in your sights." My tone dropped lower, softer — so much more deadly if I had shouted. "And you missed." "We missed not," one of the more aggressive of them snarled, his eyes flicking aside to avoid a glinting thread on a broken window. "He was tipped. Someone warned him." I smiled again, though no warmth accompanied the curve of my lips. Teeth only. "You've had years to master that lesson: Daniel is intelligent but
MIA Please.....please, don't kill me, I'd do better ma'am, the next shot will be accurate, there'd be no traces Shadow, give me one last chance. Fool. I take an indifferent look over the tied, shivery fool my men brought back. "Tsk....you have sentenced yourself to death the moment you called me Shadow. To the world I am just Mia, dumb, blonde Bimbo and that's how it will remain so you cannot walk out of here alive, you're a loose end." I take a knife and slash his throat ignoring his struggle as blood spills everywhere. I move to the bathroom of the ensuite we're presently at then wash my hands thoroughly. I take a phone call " It's done Don. They don't know who I am, not Robert, not Daniel, not Jacque or even Rebel that you fear so much. The man who can identify me has been killed hence you can relax, there is no threat". I cut the call They all consider me useless, incapable, just a sex toy yet I am one of the most fearful assassins alive. I took down Michael and until t
ROBERT I shouldn't have left her like that. The second the door slammed behind Mia and me, the house felt thicker, as if her crying had soaked into the walls. I heard it even after we passed the midpoint on the block. Hell, I could even feel it. But I walked on anyway. That's just the sort of thing I always used to do with my messes: walk away, especially from ones that didn't involve bloodshed where they landed on the floor. Mia glared at me from the passenger seat, biting her split lip, looking at me that funny way of hers, like a cat holding herself in check waiting for the right moment to spring. She never said anything. She didn't need to. She'd won. Again. And I? I wasn't quite sure whether I'd lost or if I'd just cemented Louisa's suspicions. Eight years ago, I took her out of a rehab center, half dead, skin hanging off bone, eyes dead, no glint. I didn't question her why. I recognized that broken. I'd worn it myself more times than I was willing to admit. Rescuing
LOUISA The night was quieter than usual. I sat cross-legged on the arm of the posh leather couch that Robert had christened his throne, listening to the dark TV as the jumping light danced over the walls of the living room. He was across the room, bent double over some papers, his desk lamp casting the prominent planes of his face into relief. A face I once thought was that of my savior. A face that I couldn't help but hate and love recently. "You know, I never asked you why," I breathed, but it was sufficient to make him tense in his chair. His pen hung in mid-air. He didn't turn around, not yet. "Why what, Lou?" "Why me?" I swallowed a lump. "Why did you save me eight years ago?" The words burst out before I could take them back. Silence. The air grew heavier, more oppressive with each passing second he didn't react. I hated that. I hated him for rescuing me. For granting me this half-life. For pretending the past was a locked box we both gagged on. When he finally turned, the
REBEL After leaving Mex and Michael back home with Klaus, there was no conversation about the ordeal that didn't catch my attention The rain started before the lie did. Daniel had been calling incessantly but I just didn't pick up. I stood in the shade of the awning on the old café where I was to meet my mother and see the downpour cut the street into halves. The air had a strong smell of asphalt and forgotten memories. My phone tingled in my hand for the fifth time in two minutes or less. Unknown Number. I did not answer. I didn't need to because I know who the caller is. But then a shadow fell over me, dark and high enough to strike a hard pang twisting into my chest. Daniel. Suit crisp, tie loose, and eyes softer than I was expecting. "You weren't going to call me," he said, not a question. I shrugged. "I didn't think I had to." He stood there, jaw working, rain dripping off his hair. "You do now." A black SUV skidded to a stop across the street. Doors slammed o
ROBERT The air in the evening smelled of gasoline and rain, the kind of smell that had you believe something was going to happen. My phone buzzed once against the old wooden desk, and I already knew. News like that didn't take till morning. "Rebel's back," the message read. Two words, enough to make my fingers lock on the glass of whiskey I'd been drinking. I stood up, working the kink out of my back, and walked across the apartment to where Louisa was curled on the worn leather couch. She glanced up from her book, her eyes sharp despite the softness of her face. Rehab hadn't killed the edge in her, just muted it long enough for me to haul her out. "You okay?" she'd ask, each time something twisted behind my eyes. "Rebel's back," I said, and the name itself made her stand up straight. She knew better than to think the rest, even if she didn't know the story. A knock preceded her finishing the sentence. Even. Measured. I opened the door to find Viktor standing in the doorwa
KLAUS It was a still night, but still had never been quiet for me. Not anymore. Not since the day Rebel went missing from his life, not since the day her scent went missing from every corner of his universe. And now, seven years later, silence fell heavy with ghosts. My ghosts. Our ghosts. I stayed at the balcony, clutching a glass of whiskey that I did not drink. I no longer drank it—the bitter liquor had ceased to sear the day she died. But the glass was still in my hand, out of habit. As with the stump-like ache of a lost limb so many years before, I kept holding things I could not let go of. When I next heard her name, I thought my brain was pulling its most vicious trick yet. But Daniel had sworn to it. Rebel was alive. Rebel had been alive all this while. And she had sons. Michael and Mex. Twins. I wasn't their father, but the way those boys stood in front of me, guarding and snapping, gave me all I needed to know. They belonged to them. She'd raised them into miniatu