DANIEL I was bored. Not the boredom that comes from having nothing to do, but the kind that weighed heavy in my chest like a numbing pain, one that only had an antidote. Her. Rebel. I knew she was shopping with Catya—Michael had informed me. And while shopping wasn't exactly my forte, the thought of her being out there in crowds of people, getting ready for that ridiculous function her birth father was having… Didn't sit right with me. I wasn't stupid. I knew what Jacque Rhodes was doing. This wasn't just about presenting Rebel into the world as his heiress—this was about parading her in front of potential husbands. He wanted to match her up with someone he deemed fit. Someone who fit in his domain. And that sure as hell wasn't me. I clenched my teeth, my grip on the steering wheel firming as I parked in front of the boutique she was at. My car's tinted windows gave me an unhindered view of inside—Designer clothes, subdued lighting, and a handful of fashionable shoppers. An
KLAUS Malls were not my thing. Nor was babysitting my best friend's crazier emotions or holding people back from going into a mess they had no business seeing. But here I was, standing in the middle of some high-end boutique, watching my wife, Catya, dig through dresses and keep a watchful eye on Carly Rhodes. Carly's arrival was not a surprise. I'd expected her to show up sooner or later. What surprised me was how damn determined she looked. Her back was straight, her eyes sharp, scanning the store like a mother ready to go rescue her kid. She had no clue what she was getting herself into. I did. Daniel just showed up, slipping into the dressing room behind Rebel. And I had made sure no one—above all, Carly—had entered upon them. I was standing in front of her now, an easy smile on my face, my stance casual but firm. "Carly," I said simply, "you have to give her space." Her eyes snapped to mine. "Space?" she said curtly, echoing me. "She's my daughter. I deserve a moment w
REBEL The ballroom was suffocating. A tsunami of A-list celebrities, flashing chandeliers, and razor-sharp suits. I could barely hear myself breathe over the buzz of expectation, the clinking of glasses, and the muffled classical music in the distance. This night was to be my grand entrance into society—Princess Beatricia Rhodes. My family. My pedigree. It felt so unreal and I feel so out of place but Michael is here. He stood a few feet away, his eyes fixed on me with that warm, gentle smile, the smile that had always made me feel safe. No matter how much chaos surrounded us, he had always been my shelter. My father. Not Jacque. Not the man who had only just learned I was alive. Michael had been there my whole life. Through scraped knees, through broken hearts, through all the bad choices and all the victories. And now he was standing there looking at me with pride. I could sense the lump forming in my throat as I steeled myself against glancing. Carly stood next
KLAUS The hospital room was full of despair. Rebel held onto Michael's lifeless body, her hands wrapped around his dead hand as if she could compel him back. She hadn't moved since we arrived. The doctors had abandoned all attempts to speak with her—any attempt to try to coax her away from him had yielded a fatal snarl and the glint of her eyes. No one was foolish enough to push her. Not even me. I stood in the doorway, arms folded, observing her. The hospital fluorescent light threw stark shadows across her white face, accentuating the desolation in her eyes. She was hardly breathing, trapped in a world of suffering known only to her. Michael was dead. That was a fact that could not be disputed. But Rebel? She wasn't just mourning—she was shattering. Daniel stood a few feet off, pacing, his annoyance barely contained. He rubbed his face repeatedly, cursing softly. Every other step, he'd look at Rebel, then at me, as if expecting I had some magic trick up my sleeve to resolve th
JACQUE I had seen my daughter struggle. I had seen her anger, demand, and control, flexing the world to her will with nothing more than brute strength of presence. But I had never seen her like this. Broken. She sat upon this hospital bed, still clad in that gown which she had dressed for her grand debut to the world—the world which she had never desired to be a part of. It was to be her moment, her unveiling. She had been powerful, radiant, untouchable. Now, that same gown was in shreds. Blood seeped into the soft clothing, the velvet clinging to her skin as it seemed to jeer at the illusion of how the night was supposed to turn out. The deep red stained, darkening with each passing moment, blemishing her in ways the soap and shampoo would never succeed in eradicating. Michael's blood. Her father's blood. Yet she would not release him. I stood in the doorway, watching the woman that I had hunted all my life cling to the man who raised her. The man who loved her. The man wh
ROBERT I tightened my fists at my sides in the dimly lit room, my anger hardly restrained. Cigar smoke and authority weighed heavily in the air, my bosses' eyes pressing down on me like a freaking anvil. "Why the hell wasn't I informed?" My voice was razor-sharp, my anger hardly restrained. "Michael's death—who pulled the trigger? Who gave the order?" Silence. One of the men leaned back in his leather chair, exhaling a slow stream of smoke. "Your job isn't to ask questions, Robert. It's to follow orders." I laughed, shaking my head. "This is going to blow up in our faces. You have no clue what you just did. Rebel isn't going to grieve—she's going to explode. She's going to want vengeance. You think you can handle that? You think she'll just cry and move on?" One of them sighed, rubbing his temples as though he was already weary of this conversation. "We anticipated some reaction. But that is not your concern. You are a soldier, Robert. You do your role. Nothing more." I
REBEL Daniel's face was expressionless, but I knew him too well to notice the concern he attempted to conceal. I had not said much since we'd gotten to the hospital. Since Michael had died in my arms. Since the world had stopped. But now, with a gentle, level voice, I broke the silence. "I want to see the bullet." Daniel's sharp eyes locked onto mine. "Rebel— "I want to see the bullet that murdered Michael." My voice was steady. It didn't shake, didn't quiver. "And I want you to get someone to organize a private funeral." He exhaled through his nose but nodded. He would do it, no questions asked. A piercing buzzing broke the silence. My eyes snapped to Michael's bedside. His phone was ringing. All of me stopped. The screen was cracked, the caller ID unknown. No one should be calling him. Not now. I extended, fingers brushing the cool surface as I answered it. Held it to my ear. Silence. A slow inhale. A soft exhale. Breathing. My stomach twisted into somethin
CATYA Darkness was my ally as I navigated through the side gate of the estate, my heart pounding in rhythm with my racing footsteps. I knew Klaus was inside, busy coordinating security details with his men, and that gave me just enough time. I had timed every step, rehearsed every move, but a part of me felt ashamed of the lie I carried. I arrived at the abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city, my brother already there in the shadows. He sat leaning against a rusted container, arms crossed over his chest, staring at me with the same questioning eyes I had known as a child. "You should not have come," I whispered. "And you should not be sneaking about," he shot back. "Think that Klaus will not see?" I clenched my teeth. "I needed to see you. You know why." He winced, raking a hand through his hair. "Catya, the shot was meant as a warning, not to initiate war." I swallowed hard. "Do you think Rebel will see it that way? She's already unstable, and Klaus—Klaus will
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