Emily's POVThe second Cole left, the room felt different. It wasn’t anything obvious…nothing in the cabin had actually changed. The furniture was still where it was. The fire still crackled in the small fireplace. The faint scent of burning wood and old pine still hung in the air. But the energy? That had shifted completely.It felt heavier. Tighter. Like the walls had moved in just a little, enough to make my skin itch.Cole’s men weren’t exactly making it any better. They weren’t talking. Hell, they weren’t even looking at me unless they had to. One of them stood stiff by the door, arms crossed over his chest like he was guarding something priceless. The other, leaner but just as intense, kept glancing out the window every few seconds, his fingers twitching near his gun.I exhaled, dragging my fingers through my hair, then leaned back into the worn-out couch. "You guys always this fun, or is this just special treatment for me?"Silence.Buzz-cut guy at the door didn’t even blink. H
Emily’s POVThe van lurched to a stop, jerking my body forward. My hands, still bound behind my back, strained against the rough rope cutting into my wrists. My shoulders ached from being in the same position for too long, and my head was still foggy from whatever they had drugged me with earlier. I clenched my fists, flexing my fingers to get some blood flow back.The back doors creaked open, and the sharp scent of gasoline and damp concrete hit me. It was dark outside, the only light coming from flickering streetlamps and the glow of a distant neon sign. Warehouse. Predictable. These kinds of men always picked the same dingy, abandoned places, like they had some unspoken rule about keeping things as cliché as possible.A voice cut through the silence. "Get her out."A pair of rough hands grabbed my arm, yanking me forward. My feet hit the ground hard, knees buckling slightly before I steadied myself. The men surrounding me were armed, their fingers twitching near their weapons. Thei
Emily’s POVThe sound of the gunshot still rang in my ears, but my brain struggled to process what had just happened.My father…Richard Hart…lay sprawled on the cold concrete floor. Blood spread from his chest, soaking into his once-neat suit. His eyes were open, but there was no life left in them.He was dead.I stared at his body, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. My chest felt tight, like something heavy had settled on top of it, making it impossible to breathe.A strange, choking noise left my throat before I realized it was me.Mateo chuckled, spinning the gun on his finger before handing it back to one of his men. "Well, that was dramatic," he muttered, wiping his hands on his pants like Richard’s death had somehow dirtied them.My head snapped up."You…" My voice cracked, raw with fury. "You son of a bitch!"Mateo barely spared me a glance. "Oh, don’t act like you cared, Emily. The man treated you like trash your whole life."I jerked forward, but the ropes held me back.
Cole’s POVFew hours earlier.The second my phone rang, I knew something was wrong.I was already on edge, my gut telling me that something didn’t sit right. Emily was supposed to be safe at the cabin. It wasn’t a permanent place, just a temporary stop while we figured out our next move. But the second I saw the name flashing on my screen…one of my men guarding her…something inside me tensed.I swiped to answer. “Talk.”Heavy breathing. Then a voice, rushed and strained. “Boss, we’ve got a problem.”My grip tightened around the phone. “What kind of problem?”A pause. Then, “Two of our guys are dead. Execution style. Emily was taken.”Everything around me blurred. The chatter in the car, the hum of the engine, even the weight of my gun resting on my thigh…it all faded.“What?” My voice was low, deadly.“We didn’t see them coming. It was clean, professional. They hit fast and hard. Emily’s gone, and we’ve got no idea where they took her.”I exhaled through my nose, trying to keep my ang
Emily’s POVThe rain was everywhere. In my hair, in my eyes, soaking through my clothes like a second skin. The wind howled so loud it felt like the whole world was screaming, but nothing was louder than the storm inside me. My pulse pounded in my ears, my breathing was uneven, and my body ached from the bruises and cuts Mateo had left on me.But none of that mattered.Because right now, all I saw was my father’s blood on Mateo’s hands.His grip on my arm was tight, his fingers pressing into my already sore skin as he dragged me toward the edge of the cliff. My boots struggled against the wet ground, slipping on the mud, but he yanked me forward without care.“Fucking hell, you are the most difficult young woman I’ve ever dealt with,” Mateo growled, his voice strained with frustration. His grip tightened painfully, his breath ragged. “Never in my life have I gone through this much shit just for a pussy.”I saw red.I twisted in his grip, my free hand swinging up. Slap. The sound crack
Cole’s POVThe church was packed.Rows of people, all dressed in black. The men in expensive suits, the women in elegant dresses that screamed wealth and power. It wasn’t just a funeral…it was an event. The kind only reserved for men like Richard Hart.Billionaire. Business mogul. Ruthless strategist.And now, a dead man.White lilies surrounded the altar, their scent thick in the air, almost suffocating. The coffin sat in the center, gleaming under the dim lights of the church. A masterpiece of craftsmanship, polished to perfection. Everything about this funeral was excessive, grand, like Richard had planned it himself.I kept my eyes on Emily.She stood at the front, beside her mother, her back straight, her jaw tight. She wasn’t crying. She hadn’t cried once since her father died. Not at the wake. Not today. Not in the days leading up to this.But I knew her.I knew what restraint looked like.She was holding it all in.She wore a long, black dress, the fabric hugging her figure in
Cole’s POVThe post-funeral reception was held at Richard Hart’s estate…a massive, sprawling mansion that screamed wealth and power.The kind of place where every corner had been meticulously designed to impress.Expensive art lined the walls. Crystal chandeliers hung from high ceilings, their lights low to match the somber mood. Waiters in black suits moved silently through the crowd, offering glasses of aged whiskey and champagne.But no one was here to drink.They were here to watch.Richard Hart was dead. And now, the question that lingered in the air, unspoken but loud, was…what happens next?I kept my eyes on Emily.She stood near the grand staircase, her posture rigid, her hands clasped together. The funeral had drained the color from her face, but there was still a fire in her eyes. A sharp, unyielding fire that dared anyone to challenge her.She wasn’t grieving like a daughter who lost a father.She was calculating.Because Emily Hart knew better than anyone that grief wasn’t
Emily’s POVIt had been a few days since Smith came into my life, and I was already starting to realize something…being a big sister was hard. Like, really hard.I had no idea what I was doing.I was used to handling powerful men in business meetings, shutting down corporate sharks who thought they could intimidate me, and standing my ground in rooms full of people waiting for me to fail. But a four-year-old? That was an entirely different battlefield.Smith was quiet, too quiet. He hardly spoke, and when he did, it was short, simple sentences that left me scrambling to figure out what he was thinking. He wasn’t scared of me, not exactly, but he watched me like I was an unpredictable storm…like I could do something crazy at any moment, and he needed to be prepared.Which, fair. I was unpredictable.And I had no idea how to be soft.I never had siblings growing up. I didn’t know what it was supposed to feel like. Was there some kind of switch that flipped inside you? Some natural insti
Emily's POV.I wasn’t sure how long it had been since I last ate, or when I’d finally fallen asleep, but the world around me felt like it was spinning. I wasn’t sure if it was the stress or the dizziness or the baby, but I knew that the nausea had been hitting me hard. Every time I stood up, my stomach churned, and I had to force myself not to fall over. Cole was always by my side, his hands steady, his eyes calm. He was like an anchor, holding me in place when the world felt like it was breaking apart.I tried not to show him how much I was struggling, but I couldn’t help it. He always seemed to know when something was wrong. He’d catch me before I could fall, steady me when my legs threatened to give out.I was pregnant, and not a soul knew except for Cole and me. It was the one thing I hadn’t told anyone, not even my mother. I hadn’t found the words yet, and maybe I wasn’t ready. It didn’t seem to matter, though. Every day felt like a battle. Every day felt like I was drowning in a
Vanessa's POV.It was midnight when everything changed, when everything shattered into pieces that I could never put back together. The sound of boots stomping on wet concrete outside the small, crumbling building echoed in my ears before the door was slammed open. Flashlights pierced through the darkness, and I felt my heart stop for a moment."Freeze! Hands up!" The commanding voice of a police officer cut through the air, followed by the pounding of more boots. The scene exploded with chaos as they flooded the room, their guns drawn, their faces hard and unforgiving.I didn’t hesitate. Ronan was already moving, his eyes scanning the room for an exit, his hand reaching for his gun. “Vanessa, go!” His voice was urgent, but there was something in his eyes, something I hadn’t seen before…fear. He was afraid. Not for himself, but for me.I wasn’t going anywhere. Not without him.I reached for his hand, pulling him toward the back door, but as soon as we made it halfway across the room,
Vanessa’s POVThe car’s headlights cut through the rain, but the world outside felt dark, suffocating. Ronan didn’t say a word. Neither of us had spoken since we left the officer's body on the roadside. That was. Fucking week ago.It was like the silence between us had stretched so thin it could snap any second.I couldn’t stop replaying the look on Ronan’s face…the disbelief, the anger. He was looking at me like I was a stranger. Like I wasn’t the woman he’d followed across states, gone into hiding for. Like I hadn’t meant everything to him once.I could see it now. He wouldn’t stay. He wouldn’t stick around after everything I’d done. And honestly? I couldn’t blame him.The flashes of the police lights danced across my memory, and something inside me clicked. I’ve gone too far.Then, my phone buzzed. I hesitated, then snatched it from my pocket. It was a news alert. A headline with Emily’s name caught my eye: Business Mogul's Father Found Dead in Possible Attack by Rivals.I froze.T
Cole's POV.I stood outside Emily’s bedroom door, one hand braced against the frame. I had knocked. I had called her name. I had waited. But all I got was silence.She was in there. I knew it. I could hear the occasional rustle, the shift of footsteps, the creak of the bed. But she wouldn’t answer me.Smith had clung to her the morning he left. He had turned back three times before Lena had finally ushered him into the car. And Emily? She had just stood by the window, watching. Her face was unreadable.I had expected her to break down afterward. Maybe cry. Maybe scream. Maybe throw something. But she didn’t. Instead, she shut down completely.Now, it had been two days. Two days of her not coming out. Two days of her refusing to eat.I exhaled sharply and leaned my forehead against the door. “Emily,” I said, my voice lower this time. “I know you’re in there. And I know you’re not okay.”Nothing.I raked a hand through my hair. Fine. If she needed space, I would give it to her. But that
Emily's POV.It had been a good week, or at least, as good as things could be when you were trying to figure out how to be a big sister while still managing your life. Smith and I had started to settle into a rhythm. It wasn’t perfect…hell, half the time, I still had no idea what I was doing…but we were getting there. He talked a little more, asked me things, and even reached for my hand when we crossed the street. Small victories, but victories nonetheless.So when Lena showed up to take him back, I wasn’t ready.She stood at the door, her designer sunglasses perched on top of her head, arms crossed, watching as Smith clung to the hem of my jacket. There was something stiff in the way she held herself, like she was measuring her words, careful not to say the wrong thing. Her eyes flickered between me and Smith, hesitating before she spoke.“I told you I’d be back today,” she said, her voice smooth, but I caught the careful edge to it, like she was choosing her tone wisely.I knew she
Emily’s POVIt had been a few days since Smith came into my life, and I was already starting to realize something…being a big sister was hard. Like, really hard.I had no idea what I was doing.I was used to handling powerful men in business meetings, shutting down corporate sharks who thought they could intimidate me, and standing my ground in rooms full of people waiting for me to fail. But a four-year-old? That was an entirely different battlefield.Smith was quiet, too quiet. He hardly spoke, and when he did, it was short, simple sentences that left me scrambling to figure out what he was thinking. He wasn’t scared of me, not exactly, but he watched me like I was an unpredictable storm…like I could do something crazy at any moment, and he needed to be prepared.Which, fair. I was unpredictable.And I had no idea how to be soft.I never had siblings growing up. I didn’t know what it was supposed to feel like. Was there some kind of switch that flipped inside you? Some natural insti
Cole’s POVThe post-funeral reception was held at Richard Hart’s estate…a massive, sprawling mansion that screamed wealth and power.The kind of place where every corner had been meticulously designed to impress.Expensive art lined the walls. Crystal chandeliers hung from high ceilings, their lights low to match the somber mood. Waiters in black suits moved silently through the crowd, offering glasses of aged whiskey and champagne.But no one was here to drink.They were here to watch.Richard Hart was dead. And now, the question that lingered in the air, unspoken but loud, was…what happens next?I kept my eyes on Emily.She stood near the grand staircase, her posture rigid, her hands clasped together. The funeral had drained the color from her face, but there was still a fire in her eyes. A sharp, unyielding fire that dared anyone to challenge her.She wasn’t grieving like a daughter who lost a father.She was calculating.Because Emily Hart knew better than anyone that grief wasn’t
Cole’s POVThe church was packed.Rows of people, all dressed in black. The men in expensive suits, the women in elegant dresses that screamed wealth and power. It wasn’t just a funeral…it was an event. The kind only reserved for men like Richard Hart.Billionaire. Business mogul. Ruthless strategist.And now, a dead man.White lilies surrounded the altar, their scent thick in the air, almost suffocating. The coffin sat in the center, gleaming under the dim lights of the church. A masterpiece of craftsmanship, polished to perfection. Everything about this funeral was excessive, grand, like Richard had planned it himself.I kept my eyes on Emily.She stood at the front, beside her mother, her back straight, her jaw tight. She wasn’t crying. She hadn’t cried once since her father died. Not at the wake. Not today. Not in the days leading up to this.But I knew her.I knew what restraint looked like.She was holding it all in.She wore a long, black dress, the fabric hugging her figure in
Emily’s POVThe rain was everywhere. In my hair, in my eyes, soaking through my clothes like a second skin. The wind howled so loud it felt like the whole world was screaming, but nothing was louder than the storm inside me. My pulse pounded in my ears, my breathing was uneven, and my body ached from the bruises and cuts Mateo had left on me.But none of that mattered.Because right now, all I saw was my father’s blood on Mateo’s hands.His grip on my arm was tight, his fingers pressing into my already sore skin as he dragged me toward the edge of the cliff. My boots struggled against the wet ground, slipping on the mud, but he yanked me forward without care.“Fucking hell, you are the most difficult young woman I’ve ever dealt with,” Mateo growled, his voice strained with frustration. His grip tightened painfully, his breath ragged. “Never in my life have I gone through this much shit just for a pussy.”I saw red.I twisted in his grip, my free hand swinging up. Slap. The sound crack