It was night and the rain fell in silver threads over the rusted bones of Blackridge, washing grime from rooftops that hadn’t seen sunlight in years. Neon signs flickered above shuttered pawnshops and brothels, their dying light reflecting in oil-slick puddles that painted the streets in fractured color.Ethan Cross stood beneath a dented awning, his hood pulled low, cigarette burning to a tired ember. The smoke curled upward, lost to the wet night. He had always liked the rain—it silenced the world. Hid the gunshots. Blurred the past.This street had been his once. The Iron Syndicate’s old quarter. Back when he’d been someone men whispered about. Back when “Wolf General” wasn’t just a name—it was a warning.He hadn’t come here to remember. But some ghosts are louder than reason.Now he was just Ethan Cross—the unemployed son-in-law of Alessandro Valente, a man whose dinner table was a battlefield of politics, whose words could end empires. Ava’s husband. The quiet one. The disappoint

The Langston estate had never felt so cold.Ava stood by the window of her father’s study, watching the storm sweep across the grounds. The world outside looked like glass and smoke—beautiful, but fragile. She could almost see Ethan’s reflection in the clouds, that look of disbelief when she’d tried to explain herself. “You betrayed me to save me.”His words had been quiet, but they cut deeper than a scream ever could.Behind her, the heavy oak doors creaked open. Her father entered, his steps measured and deliberate. The scent of cigar smoke followed him, curling into the air like poison.“So,” he began, settling into his chair, “you told him.”Ava turned sharply. “You knew he would find out. You set me up.”Langston’s lips curved. “You think I needed to? Ethan Carter is a man who destroys himself. All I did was show him where to look.”Her jaw clenched. “He loved this family. He rebuilt everything you lost when you gambled away the company’s name.”“Love,” her father scoffed. “Love

The rain hadn’t stopped for three days.It came down in silver knives, cutting through the industrial skyline, washing away the filth that the city could never cleanse on its own. Inside the warehouse, the air was heavy with rust, oil, and unspoken words.Ethan sat on the edge of a steel crate, sleeves rolled up, eyes fixed on the floor. His shirt clung to his skin, dark with sweat and rain. Across from him, Ava paced, arms wrapped around herself as if she could hold the weight of her guilt together.They hadn’t spoken much since she arrived.He’d offered her dry clothes and silence — two things he knew she needed more than forgiveness.Now, as thunder cracked over the harbor, she finally broke the stillness.“Do you ever regret it?” she asked softly.Ethan’s eyes lifted. “What?”“Us.”He studied her, his gaze steady and unreadable. “Every day,” he said after a long pause. “And never once.”She exhaled, the tension in her shoulders trembling. “You make that sound like a punishment.”“