Mia’s POVLife had always been simple. Predictable, even. Just me and my mom in our small apartment, surrounded by the familiar scent of her lavender candles and the comforting hum of her sewing machine. She worked tirelessly to keep us afloat, her delicate fingers stitching together our modest existence.Then he appeared.Ray Valisteen.The first time I saw him, he was sitting at our kitchen table, a place far too humble for someone who looked like he belonged on the cover of a luxury magazine. His suit was sharp enough to cut through steel, his smile easy, almost disarming. But it was his eyes that struck me—dark, calculating, and cold.I was only fourteen, but I wasn’t stupid. Men like him didn’t show up out of nowhere. He wasn’t here for a simple family dinner.“Call me Ray,” he said, his voice smooth like melted chocolate. He leaned back in the rickety chair, completely at ease, as if the peeling wallpaper and chipped plates didn’t bother him. “Your mother has told me so much abo
Dylan’s POVThere was a time when my name carried weight—Dylan Griffin, son of the man who once stood as Ray Valisteen’s equal. Back then, power was our inheritance, influence our birthright. My father, Alexander Griffin, wasn’t just feared; he was respected. In every darkened corner of the city, his name echoed with reverence.I wanted to be just like him.As a kid, I followed him everywhere. Business meetings, late-night deals, even the dangerous ones he told me to stay away from. “Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut,” he’d say, his voice steady and commanding, like the crack of thunder.And I listened.I learned how to read people, how to spot lies beneath the surface of a polite smile. I saw how my father and Ray Valisteen ruled the city together, an unstoppable force that made even the most ambitious rivals think twice before crossing them.But power is a fragile thing. And trust? Even more so.The night everything fell apart is seared into my memory.I was seventeen, old eno
Mia's POVThe party was loud, extravagant, and suffocating—just as I’d expected. Purple and silver decorations sparkled under the soft glow of the chandelier, and every corner of the room was filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and chatter about alliances and power plays. My eighteenth birthday was supposed to be a celebration, but I felt like a showpiece, trapped in a world I didn’t ask to be a part of.It was easier to fake a smile than explain how much I wanted to leave despite it being my eighteenth birthday party. Jess was rambling about some minor drama, but I could barely focus on her words. The weight of the crowd pressed down on me, and I needed air.“Excuse me,” I muttered, cutting Jess off mid-sentence. Without waiting for her reply, I slipped through the sea of people, heading for the balcony.The night air hit me like a cool balm. I leaned against the railing, staring out at the city lights that glittered like stars in the distance. For a moment, it felt like I could
Mia's POV.I let out another groan, my head pounding like a war drum. My arms felt like lead, and my throat was dry enough to crack. I shifted on the cold, hard floor, realizing I couldn't move my wrists—zip-ties. The bite of the plastic around my skin made me grit my teeth as memories of the night slammed into me.Dylan Griffin.The son of the man Ray killed. The charming bastard had drugged my drink and dragged me into this mess."Shit," I muttered under my breath, forcing myself to sit up. The room was barely lit, the flickering bulb above casting more shadows than light. My eyes darted around, taking in the stark, empty space—four walls, no windows, and a single steel door.“How do I get out of here?” I whispered to myself, flexing my wrists against the restraints. The pain grounded me, and I welcomed it. I needed to focus, not panic.Footsteps echoed outside, sharp and deliberate. The heavy door creaked open, and Dylan stepped in.“Awake already?” he mused, his lips curling into
Mia's POV. Italy smelled like freedom and fresh espresso. It was a stark contrast to the suffocating opulence of my past life. Here, I wasn’t the Valisteen Princess; I was just Mia. No bodyguards trailing my every move, no constant threats looming over my head. Or at least, that’s what I wanted to believe.But danger had a way of finding me. That bitch.It's been three weeks since I escaped the chaos Dylan Griffin left behind with the help of Victor, who I told to go back to Ray. I kept my head down, moving from town to town, never staying anywhere long enough to be noticed. The quiet anonymity was comforting at first, but I couldn’t ignore the itch in the back of my mind—the urge to reclaim what had been stolen from me.I had just stepped out of a cafe in Florence when the first shot rang out. Instinct kicked in before I even registered what was happening. I dove behind a parked Vespa, my heart pounding as bullets sprayed across the cobblestone street. Tourists screamed and scattere
Mia's POV. “Wow, I can't believe we built this in just four years," Mimi said, walking towards the balcony of my office. The doors were made of glass, bulletproof glass. It's been four years since I escaped from Dylan Griffith. Mimi, and built my own empire with the help of Mimi and Victor. A sigh escaped my lips. This is the sixth time she has been repeating the same words; now I can recite it without missing a word. “Mimi, what do you want?" I asked, pushing my laptop to the side. I lean forward, place both my elbows on my table, my hands facing down as I rest my head on them, looking up at her like an injured puppy. Well, I wasn't physically injured, but mentally, I was with her constant blabbing that never seemed to end as soon as she walked in thirty minutes ago. “What do you want?" I ask again. She turned to look at me with a surprised look that obviously was fake, one arm crossed on her chest and the other pointing to herself. “Me?" “No, I was talking to the handsome ghost
Mia's POVI smirked faintly. “Something like that. Someone has to keep a clear head around here.”He tilted his glass toward me. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you actually dancing. A rare sight.”“Don’t get used to it,” I said, but there was no bite to my words.Victor chuckled lightly, his gaze scanning the room. His sharp eyes lingered on each corner as if he were silently calculating exit routes and assessing threats even in the middle of a celebration.“You know,” he said after a pause, “it’s moments like this that remind me why we do what we do. These people—your people—look at you like you’re invincible. Like you’ve given them something no one else could.”I stared into my glass, swirling the amber liquid. “And what’s that?”“Hope,” he said simply.I didn’t reply, the weight of his words settling heavily on me. Hope. It wasn’t something I’d set out to give anyone, but somehow, it had become part of what I represented.The moment was interrupted by Mimi, who came bounding over wit
Dylan's POV. The echo of my footsteps was the only sound in the dimly lit corridor as I led the newcomer deeper into the clan's dungeon. The air was damp and thick with the metallic scent of blood, mixed with that faint hum of the fear that lingered like a permanent resident. The walls, lined with chains and archaic iron tools, bore the weight of history only whispered about. “This…" I said, my voice low and calculated, " is where we remind people of the consequences of betrayal.” my words were calm but the undertone carried the sharp edge of a knife. The man nodded rapidly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. His bravado from earlier had melted away the moment we descended those stairs. The dungeon had that effect—it stripped away masks, leaving people with nothing but their raw, trembling truths.Liam, my ever-annoying second-in-command, leaned against the rusted iron bars of one of the cells, a cigarette lazily hanging from his lips. “Really laying it on thick today, aren’
Chapter 70: Silent PactsThe faint blue light from the laptop screen flickered across my face, casting shadows along the cracked walls of my room. Mimi sat beside me, legs crossed, clutching the edge of her oversized sweater like it would somehow shield her from the conversation we were about to have.Victor's face appeared on the screen, his dark eyes heavy with exhaustion. The scar running down his temple looked deeper under the dim lighting—like the weight of the clan had carved itself into his skin."Mia." His gruff voice filled the small space. "Mimi.""Victor." I nodded, keeping my expression neutral.Mimi mumbled a small greeting, eyes flicking between the screen and her fingers knotted together on her lap.I leaned forward, elbows resting on my knees."How is everyone?"The silence that followed was answer enough.Victor's jaw tightened, his gaze dropping for half a second before he forced himself to meet my eyes again."Not good."I swallowed hard.I already knew that. I just
Chapter 69: Unseen BattlesThe training room was quieter than usual, the faint creak of leather dummies and the rhythmic thud of fists against sandbags filling the air. Only Mimi and I were here—exactly how I preferred it.No prying eyes. No whispered threats. Just the steady repetition of punches and the burn of tired muscles.I adjusted the wraps on my knuckles, the rough fabric biting into my skin. Across from me, Mimi was trying—and failing—to keep her form steady. Her small fists landed weakly against the worn-out dummy, frustration flickering in her brown eyes.“Breathe,” I reminded her softly. “You’re stiff.”Mimi exhaled sharply, setting her jaw as she struck again—slightly better, but not enough.It would take time. I knew that. But time wasn’t something we could afford in this place.The door creaked open behind us, breaking the fragile stillness. Instinct tightened my spine, muscles coiling beneath my skin as I shot a glance over my shoulder.Jared.I forced myself to relax
Chapter 68: Unwelcome Guest(Celeste’s POV)Mia should not be here.She should have left the moment she was strong enough to walk again. Yet here she was, still lingering in our clan like a parasite, acting as if she belonged. And worse—Dylan was letting her.I watched from across the training grounds as he stood beside her, his usual guarded expression softer than I had ever seen. His posture was relaxed, his words directed only at her, and for a brief, infuriating second, she smiled at something he said.I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms.Dylan was mine.I had stood beside him long before she was ever a thought in his world. I had earned my place in this clan, bled for it, fought for it. And she? She was an outsider who had done nothing but take. Dylan had saved her. Fed her. Protected her. And she had the audacity to act like she deserved any of it.No. If she thought she could stay here without consequences, she was dead wrong.I turned on my heel, heading str
Chapter 67: Almost NormalI wasn’t used to stillness.For weeks, my body had been a battlefield—pain, exhaustion, frustration all warring inside me. But now, I could move. I could walk without someone hovering over me, sit up without feeling like my ribs would crack in half. I still wasn’t at full strength, but at least I could do things on my own. And that alone made all the difference.I was done being treated like I was fragile.Which was why I was currently sitting in Dylan’s dining hall, surrounded by his clan members, pretending like I belonged here.Spoiler alert: I didn’t.The dining hall was lively—filled with the scent of roasted meat, fresh bread, and something rich and spiced I couldn’t quite place. It should have been warm, welcoming. But instead, the tension clung to the air like smoke, thick and suffocating.Conversations were happening, but none of them included me. People exchanged words in low voices, their gazes flicking toward me every now and then before snapping
Chapter 66: A Slightly Less Annoying BastardLiam was an insufferable, arrogant, pain-in-the-ass bastard.That much had always been a fact, a universal truth I held onto like a lifeline.Which is why the fact that I was looking at him differently right now was making me extremely uncomfortable.I didn’t know when it happened. Maybe it was when he pulled me out of the river. Or maybe it was before that—when he shoved me out of the way and took the hit meant for me. Or maybe—just maybe—it was when I caught him gritting his teeth through the pain, brushing it off like it was nothing, like he hadn’t just been stabbed trying to keep me from getting hurt.Either way, the damage was done.And I hated it.Hated that my brain was now trying to rewrite everything I knew about him.Hated that I was sitting beside him now, pressing a cloth to the wound on his side, instead of making fun of him for getting hurt in the first place.Hated that, for the first time since I met him, I wasn’t looking at
Chapter 65: Shocking Truth. I shifted under the blanket, trying to find the right words, but before I could speak, there was a knock at the door.Dylan’s expression darkened immediately. He stood, his movements fluid and controlled, and crossed the room in three long strides. When he pulled the door open, a familiar voice filled the space.“Well, you look like absolute shit,” Liam said casually, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.“You look dead." Dylan replied bluntly. I blinked.Mimi was on his shoulders like a sack of potatoes.Correction: one hand was gripping his hair like reins, her expression a mix of triumph and mild disappointment, like she hadn’t yet decided if she was going to spare his life or not.“Let go of my hair, gremlin,” Liam grumbled. “Your best friend's awake." Liam sighed through his nose, clearly regretting every decision that led him here. “You said you wanted to see Mia. You saw her. Now get down.”Mimi huffed but released him, sliding down h
Chapter 64: TruthsThe first thing I noticed when I woke up was the warmth.It pressed against my skin, unfamiliar yet oddly grounding. The second thing was the quiet—a thick, weighted kind of silence that settled over the room, only broken by the faint crackle of fire in the hearth.The air smelled of something faintly herbal, mixed with the lingering scent of worn leather and something undeniably familiar. It took me a second to realize what it was—him.I blinked, my vision adjusting to the dim glow of lanterns casting soft shadows against the stone walls. The mattress beneath me was firm yet comfortable, the blanket draped over me thick and heavy, as if someone had made sure I wouldn’t get cold.Slowly, I turned my head. And that was when I saw him.Dylan.He was sitting beside my bed, elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped loosely together. His usually sharp, calculating eyes were cast downward, unfocused, his entire posture weighed down by something I couldn’t quite name.
Chapter 63: GoneSomething was wrong.I felt it the moment I stepped into the infirmary.The air was too still. The faint scent of antiseptic clung to the walls, the sterile quiet pressing in from all sides. But it wasn’t the silence that put me on edge. It was the absence.She wasn’t here.Mia was gone.A slow, sharp breath pushed past my lips as my gaze swept the room. The bed was empty, the thin sheets rumpled but untouched for hours. The IV stand stood abandoned beside it, its tubing cut—not pulled, not yanked—cut.She hadn’t just left.She had planned it.A low growl rumbled in my chest as I turned sharply toward the door. The halls outside stretched into quiet emptiness, dimly lit by the soft glow of lanterns along the stone walls. No signs of movement. No lingering traces of her scent.She was weak—too weak to be wandering the estate alone. She had barely woken up. Her body wasn’t ready for this.And yet, she had vanished.A sharp voice cut through my thoughts. “Dylan?”I turne
Chapter 62: Where the Flowers BloomPain wrapped around me like a second skin. It wasn't sharp, not anymore—it had dulled into something constant, an ache that settled deep in my bones. My body felt heavy, my limbs stiff fro0m exhaustion, but something tugged at me, pulling me away from the comfort of sleep.I fought through the haze, forcing my eyes open. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a lamp casting long shadows against the walls. The scent of antiseptic hung thick in the air, masking the faint metallic trace of blood.I wasn’t dead.That should have been a relief. It wasn’t.I shifted slightly, my muscles protesting the movement. My arms and torso were wrapped in fresh bandages, the fabric pressing against the tender wounds beneath. Someone had taken care of me. Sarah, probably.A soft exhale left my lips.I should have stayed in bed. My body needed rest, needed time to heal. But the feeling in my chest—the pull—was too strong to ignore. It gnawed at me, restless and insi