Third POVThe warehouse stood on the edge of the city, abandoned long ago, its walls lined with rust and forgotten sins. Faint moonlight slipped through the broken ceiling, casting jagged shadows against the cold concrete floor.Inside, two figures faced each other—one seated at a rusted steel table, fingers idly tapping the surface, the other standing in the dim light, their face obscured by the shadows.The air was thick, humming with something unspoken.The seated figure—the mastermind—tilted their head slightly, amusement curling at their lips.“Punctual. I like that.”The standing figure didn’t respond immediately. Their silence wasn’t uncertainty—it was calculation.“You said you had a plan.”A slow chuckle. “Not just a plan. A guarantee.”The standing figure exhaled. “And what guarantee would that be?”A name fell between them like a blade.“Julian Dantes.”The standing figure’s posture remained rigid, unreadable.“You want him gone.”The seated figure’s lips parted in a sharp,
Third POVThe club pulsed with life, its dim neon lights casting deep shadows over the crowd. Bodies pressed together, lost in the throbbing bass, the scent of sweat, alcohol, and desperation thick in the air. Renata Varela sat at the bar, legs crossed, her crimson dress riding up just enough to tempt but not reveal.She lifted her glass to her lips, taking a slow sip of tequila as her gaze slid lazily over the men in the room. Some were watching her, captivated by the way she carried herself—danger wrapped in silk, temptation laced with poison.And then, she found him.Tall, broad, dark-eyed. Handsome in a rugged way. The kind of man who looked like he didn’t ask too many questions.Perfect.She smirked, crooking a finger. He came without hesitation.“Looking for company?” she purred.The man leaned in, voice deep, thick with lust. “Depends. You offering?”Renata tilted her head, dragging a finger down his chest. “Maybe.”Minutes later, they were in the backseat of her sleek black ca
Third POVThe drive back to Cassiel’s penthouse was suffocating.Julian sat in the back of the black Bentley, his fingers digging into the leather seat as the city blurred past in streaks of gold and steel. The sterile hospital scent still clung to him, an unpleasant reminder of how close he had come to dying. His body was weak, his stomach twisted with a residual nausea from the poisoning, but it was nothing compared to the unease settling in his chest.Cassiel sat beside him, silent, his profile sharp against the low glow of the dashboard light in front. His phone was in his hand, his thumb moving efficiently over the screen, issuing commands with the kind of ease that made Julian’s skin crawl.It wasn’t just that Cassiel controlled everything around him—it was the fact that he expected obedience in return.Julian shifted, inhaling slowly. The silence was unbearable.“You don’t have to act like I’m on my deathbed.”Cassiel didn’t look up. “A dead man doesn’t need to be reminded to s
Third POVThe dim glow of the pendant lights barely touched the shadows in Renata’s penthouse. Marco leaned against the marble counter, watching her with amusement as she poured herself a drink.“You’re awfully bold for a man with no place to go,” she muttered, swirling the amber liquid in her glass.Marco chuckled. “And you’re awfully desperate for a woman who claims she was ready to move on.”Renata shot him a glare before taking a slow sip. “I gave him a chance to reconsider.”“And he crushed it under his boot.” Marco tilted his head. “Tell me, sweetheart, did you really think Cassiel would let you back in?”Renata’s jaw clenched.“I thought he’d at least remember what we had,” she admitted, voice laced with bitterness.Marco smirked. “Oh, he remembers. He just doesn’t care.”She set the glass down with more force than necessary.“You speak as if you know him better than I do,” she muttered.Marco’s grin didn’t waver. “I know what he does to people who think they can manipulate him
Julian’s POVThe air outside Cassiel Morelli’s estate was thick and stifling. Even with the cool night breeze brushing against my skin, I could feel the weight pressing down on my chest. The iron gates had locked behind me with a resounding clang, cutting off any chance of escape—not that I had anywhere else to go.I stood at the entrance, my fists clenched at my sides as the butler led me through towering double doors. The mansion swallowed me whole, drowning me in the feel of wealth that felt suffocating rather than impressive. Marble floors gleamed under dim chandeliers, casting ghostly reflections of me as I moved forward.I hadn’t been in a place like this in a long time. Not since my world had collapsed.Not since Cassiel Morelli had helped destroy it.The butler stopped at another set of doors, polished wood carved with intricate designs. He opened them with a slight bow, stepping aside.I squared my shoulders and walked in.Cassiel was waiting.He sat in a high-backed leather
Cassiel‘s POVI watched from the floor-to-ceiling window of my study, my gaze locked onto Julian’s retreating form.I had expected resistance but what I hadn’t expected was the hesitation.Julian was too proud to beg. Too stubborn to make desperate bargains—at least, that’s who he had been. But the man who had walked into my house tonight was different.I had seen it in his eyes. The exhaustion. The quiet, bone-deep fear.It had been… satisfying.A long time ago, he had tried to put me in handcuffs. Had stood in courtrooms and called me a criminal, a parasite feeding off society. And now, he was here, seeking me out like a lifeline.Poetic.I turned from the window as Enzo stepped into the study.“You let him leave?” He asked.I poured myself another drink. “He’ll be back.”Enzo crossed his arms. “You sure about that?”I took a sip, savoring the burn. “He doesn’t have another choice.”Enzo exhaled sharply. “And if he does?”I set my glass down, my expression turning cold.“Then I’ll
Cassiel’s POVThe underground club was a temple of excesses — soft candlelight flickered across dark velvet walls, and low music hummed beneath the murmur of the world’s wealthiest and most dangerous men. Here, the rules of the outside world didn’t exist. Deals were made with whispers, fortunes were lost with a glance, and power belonged to the one willing to pay the highest price.I sat in my usual place—an exclusive balcony overlooking the grand auction hall. From here, I could see everything, every desperate soul trying to sell themselves into favor, every predator waiting to devour them.But tonight, I wasn’t alone.The woman beside me was draped in an elegant black gown, her silver mask catching the dim light. She was poised, exuding an effortless grace that made others assume she was just another socialite on my arm. But those who knew better understood she was more than that.She swirled her wine, her voice smooth. “You’re quieter than usual. This place doesn’t entertain you an
Cassiel’s POVI watched Julian closely, my steel-gray eyes hidden behind the smooth mask. The younger man sat rigidly in the leather seat across from me, his jaw locked tight, his hazel eyes sharp with defiance. I could feel the energy radiating off him—anger, suspicion, exhaustion.And yet, he didn’t truly understand his situation. Not yet.The luxury car slid through the dark streets, heading toward an undisclosed location. I had made sure Julian wouldn’t remember the route. A touch of sedative in his drink was all it took. He had refused the whiskey he’d been offered earlier, but I had anticipated that. I had simply waited for the right moment, offering water instead.It took less than five minutes for his body to betray him. His grip on his thighs had loosened, his posture softening as his breaths slowed.The last thing he had managed was a sharp glare before his body gave out.Now, I sat across from him, my fingers tapping absently against his knee. The car’s headlights sliced th
Third POVThe dim glow of the pendant lights barely touched the shadows in Renata’s penthouse. Marco leaned against the marble counter, watching her with amusement as she poured herself a drink.“You’re awfully bold for a man with no place to go,” she muttered, swirling the amber liquid in her glass.Marco chuckled. “And you’re awfully desperate for a woman who claims she was ready to move on.”Renata shot him a glare before taking a slow sip. “I gave him a chance to reconsider.”“And he crushed it under his boot.” Marco tilted his head. “Tell me, sweetheart, did you really think Cassiel would let you back in?”Renata’s jaw clenched.“I thought he’d at least remember what we had,” she admitted, voice laced with bitterness.Marco smirked. “Oh, he remembers. He just doesn’t care.”She set the glass down with more force than necessary.“You speak as if you know him better than I do,” she muttered.Marco’s grin didn’t waver. “I know what he does to people who think they can manipulate him
Third POVThe drive back to Cassiel’s penthouse was suffocating.Julian sat in the back of the black Bentley, his fingers digging into the leather seat as the city blurred past in streaks of gold and steel. The sterile hospital scent still clung to him, an unpleasant reminder of how close he had come to dying. His body was weak, his stomach twisted with a residual nausea from the poisoning, but it was nothing compared to the unease settling in his chest.Cassiel sat beside him, silent, his profile sharp against the low glow of the dashboard light in front. His phone was in his hand, his thumb moving efficiently over the screen, issuing commands with the kind of ease that made Julian’s skin crawl.It wasn’t just that Cassiel controlled everything around him—it was the fact that he expected obedience in return.Julian shifted, inhaling slowly. The silence was unbearable.“You don’t have to act like I’m on my deathbed.”Cassiel didn’t look up. “A dead man doesn’t need to be reminded to s
Third POVThe club pulsed with life, its dim neon lights casting deep shadows over the crowd. Bodies pressed together, lost in the throbbing bass, the scent of sweat, alcohol, and desperation thick in the air. Renata Varela sat at the bar, legs crossed, her crimson dress riding up just enough to tempt but not reveal.She lifted her glass to her lips, taking a slow sip of tequila as her gaze slid lazily over the men in the room. Some were watching her, captivated by the way she carried herself—danger wrapped in silk, temptation laced with poison.And then, she found him.Tall, broad, dark-eyed. Handsome in a rugged way. The kind of man who looked like he didn’t ask too many questions.Perfect.She smirked, crooking a finger. He came without hesitation.“Looking for company?” she purred.The man leaned in, voice deep, thick with lust. “Depends. You offering?”Renata tilted her head, dragging a finger down his chest. “Maybe.”Minutes later, they were in the backseat of her sleek black ca
Third POVThe warehouse stood on the edge of the city, abandoned long ago, its walls lined with rust and forgotten sins. Faint moonlight slipped through the broken ceiling, casting jagged shadows against the cold concrete floor.Inside, two figures faced each other—one seated at a rusted steel table, fingers idly tapping the surface, the other standing in the dim light, their face obscured by the shadows.The air was thick, humming with something unspoken.The seated figure—the mastermind—tilted their head slightly, amusement curling at their lips.“Punctual. I like that.”The standing figure didn’t respond immediately. Their silence wasn’t uncertainty—it was calculation.“You said you had a plan.”A slow chuckle. “Not just a plan. A guarantee.”The standing figure exhaled. “And what guarantee would that be?”A name fell between them like a blade.“Julian Dantes.”The standing figure’s posture remained rigid, unreadable.“You want him gone.”The seated figure’s lips parted in a sharp,
Third POVThe photographs lay scattered across Julian’s ransacked apartment floor. Each one, a quiet but undeniable testament to just how long Valerian Cross had been watching.Cassiel stood motionless, the dim lighting casting long shadows over his sharp features. His steel-gray eyes swept over the images again—Julian at a piano bar, Julian on the streets, Julian leaving a grocery store—Julian, everywhere.For months.Enzo stood nearby, silent, letting the weight of the discovery sink in.Cassiel exhaled slowly, tapping a single photo against his palm.Valerian had been patient. Too patient.Now, he was making his move.Cassiel slid the photograph between his fingers and handed it to Enzo.“Find out who took these,” he ordered.Enzo nodded, taking the photo. “Whoever it was, they were good. No obvious patterns, no street angles that show a tail. This wasn’t a rush job.”“No,” Cassiel said darkly. “It was calculated.”Enzo’s brows furrowed. “If he’s had eyes on Julian for this long, w
Third POVCassiel leaned back slightly, his steel-gray eyes locked onto Julian’s. He didn’t speak right away. Instead, he let the weight of Julian’s demand settle between them like an unspoken challenge.Tell me everything.Julian’s grip on the sheets was tight, his knuckles white. He was still weak, his body recovering from the poison, but his mind was sharp—too sharp.Cassiel knew he wouldn’t let this go.A slow exhale.“Valerian Cross,” Cassiel finally said, his voice low, deliberate. “You know the name. Tell me why.”Julian’s jaw tensed. “No. You first.”Cassiel’s lips curved, but the smile was anything but amused. “You’re in no position to make demands, Julian.”Julian didn’t flinch. “I was nearly murdered in this hospital bed. I think I deserve to know why.”Cassiel studied him. Then, with an exasperated sigh, he sat back down beside the bed.“Valerian isn’t just an enemy,” Cassiel said. “He’s a problem I thought I solved years ago.” His fingers tapped against his thigh. “I was
Third POVCassiel’s grip tightened around the woman’s wrist, crushing the delicate bones beneath his fingers. The syringe trembled in her grasp, the needle’s tip still hovering mere inches above Julian’s IV line.The woman sucked in a sharp breath, her disguise crumbling under his presence.Cassiel hadn’t spoken a word.Yet his silence was more terrifying than any threat.Her breathing turned shallow, frantic. “I—”Cassiel twisted her wrist just enough to send a spike of pain shooting up her arm. Not enough to break it—not yet.“Who sent you?” His voice was low, deadly.She winced, her fingers loosening, but he didn’t let the syringe fall. He caught it effortlessly, holding it between two fingers, his gaze a blade against her skin.He turned it slightly, watching the clear liquid inside swirl. His thumb hovered over the plunger. “You were going to push this into his bloodstream.” His eyes flicked to Julian’s motionless body, his jaw ticking. “I wonder what it would do to you.”She sti
Third POVThe black maybach tore through the streets, slicing through traffic while Cassiel sat in the backseat, shoulders taut, his breathing controlled but sharp. The scent of blood filled his nostrils — blood from the mole.The scent of iron and sweat clung to his skin, soaked into the dark fabric of his ruined shirt. He exhaled through his nose, stripping it off in one fluid motion, revealing the taut muscle underneath. His body bore old scars and fresh reminders of the life he lived.The mole had cracked.Cassiel had heard his voice break, felt his bones shatter beneath his hands. And yet, there had been no relief, no satisfaction—only the lingering knowledge that the real enemy was still out there.And right now, Julian was their target.He pulled on a clean black shirt, rolling his stiff shoulders.“Faster,” he ordered.Enzo didn’t reply, but the engine growled louder, responding to the command in his voice.Cassiel’s phone vibrated with a caller ID from the hospital.He answe
Third POV The warehouse near Cassiel’s private docks was nothing short of a tomb. The dim overhead lights buzzed like dying fireflies, barely illuminating the blood-stained floor beneath them. Rust and salt clung to the air, thick and suffocating. The faint sounds of waves crashing against the docks outside were a cruel contrast to the scene unfolding within these walls. A man was slumped in a steel chair at the center of it all, arms bound behind his back with industrial-strength zip ties. His face was barely recognizable—swollen, bloody, and bruised beyond reason. His breathing came in wet, shaky gasps. Marco stood in front of him, rolling his shoulders as he wiped the blood off his knuckles with a cloth. He had spent the last hour breaking the man apart, but so far, the traitor hadn’t uttered a single useful word. A slow, deliberate set of footsteps echoed through the warehouse. Marco’s lips curled into a smirk. Cassiel stepped inside, Enzo trailing behind him. The moment