Chapter 1[Elara]There are exactly three ways to dislocate your own thumb to escape a pair of steel cuffs.The first way is the fastest, but it risks tearing the ulnar collateral ligament. The second requires leverage I didn't currently have. The third was excruciatingly slow, but it left the hand functional enough to hold a knife afterward.I was three minutes into method number three when the heavy steel door at the top of the basement stairs groaned open.I stopped twisting my wrist, letting my hands rest against the heavy iron pipe suspended above my head. My shoulders burned from being strung up for the last six hours, but I kept my breathing perfectly even. Panic was a luxury for civilians. I was a professional.Heavy, deliberate footsteps echoed down the concrete stairs.I didn't need to see him to know who it was. I could smell him. Bergamot, expensive Italian leather, and the sharp, metallic tang of gunpowder.Cassian Rossi.The newly crowned Don of the Rossi Syndicate stepp

Chapter 3[Cassian]The blast shook the foundation of the estate, raining a thick coat of concrete dust over us.In the pitch black, my instincts took over. I shoved Elara behind me, pressing her back against the cold pillar, and drew the customized Beretta 92FS from my shoulder holster in a single, fluid motion.Silence rushed back into the basement, broken only by the ringing in my ears and the faint, unmistakable sound of boots crunching over debris at the top of the stairs.Night vision goggles. Suppressed weapons. Professional sweep.My security detail is dead, I realized. A cold, furious clarity washed over me. The estate was heavily fortified. For a tactical team to breach the main floor without tripping the perimeter alarms, someone on the inside had to have opened the door for them."Three of them," a soft voice whispered right by my ear.I flinched. I had almost forgotten how close she was. Elara was pressed flush against my back, her breathing so perfectly controlled I coul

Chapter 5[Elara]I didn't drive the bulletproof Mercedes like a getaway driver. I drove it like a ghost.Tires screeching and engines roaring only attract attention. I kept the headlights off until we were two miles away from the Rossi estate, weaving through the labyrinth of backroads that bordered the city.Beside me in the passenger seat, Cassian was entirely too quiet.I cast a sideways glance at the Don. His head was resting against the cool glass of the window. The charcoal suit jacket was ruined, saturated with a terrifying amount of dark, wet crimson. The buckshot had caught him in the upper left shoulder a glancing hit, but it had torn through muscle and vein."Keep your eyes open, Rossi," I ordered, my voice sharp. "Shock makes you sleepy. If you pass out, you might not wake up.""I'm awake, Viper," he rasped. His eyes were half-closed, but they were tracking my every movement. "Take the next left. Head toward the docks. Pier 49.""The docks?" I frowned, downshifting smooth

Chapter 7[Elara]An hour later, a terrified, trembling tailor arrived at the warehouse.He was an older man who owed the Rossi family his life, and he brought with him a garment bag, a velvet jewelry box, and enough tactical gear to outfit a small strike team. He took one look at Cassian’s stitched shoulder, then one look at my cold, expressionless face, and decided not to ask any questions.He left the items on the metal desk and practically sprinted back to his car."Get dressed," Cassian ordered, tossing the heavy garment bag onto the cot beside me. He was already shrugging into a fresh, perfectly tailored black suit, hiding the bulky bandages on his shoulder beneath expensive Italian wool.I unzipped the bag.It wasn't a traditional, fluffy white wedding dress. It was a weapon.A floor-length gown made of heavy, shimmering ivory silk. It had a plunging neckline, a daring slit up the left thigh, and was designed to cling to every curve like a second skin. It was the kind of dress

Chapter 9[Elara]Kiss him.It sounded so simple. I had seduced targets before. I had played the role of the loving girlfriend, the intoxicated stranger, the desperate widow. I was a master of physical manipulation.But as Cassian turned to face me, my heart slammed against my ribs in a frantic, terrifying rhythm.This wasn't a mark. This was the man who had chained me to a wall yesterday. The man who had taken a bullet for me today.Three hundred men watched us, their fingers twitching on their triggers. If they saw a flicker of hesitation, if they sensed for a microsecond that this was a staged performance, Marco would order the execution.Cassian stepped into my space.He didn't look at the crowd. He didn't look at his uncle or the Emissary. His dark eyes were locked entirely on mine, burning with an intensity that made the breath catch in my throat."Trust me," he breathed, the words barely a whisper on my lips.I didn't have time to answer.Cassian’s large, warm hands slid up my