Present Day

I FELT THE AIR SHIFT before my eyes caught on to the silent disturbance. The skin of my back prickled with an uncomfortable chill, even in this sticky humidity.

Now, it spreads up my spine, onto my shoulders, and grips my neck, forcing my body to turn. One by one, the surrounding people change their tune, either to silence or whispers, just as my gaze reluctantly lands on them.

It’s almost impossible to think of the four men as individuals. They unintentionally carry themselves as one entity. Yet the shift in the air would make one feel they are a legion, commanding the attention of all who are around. They are not from the same family, but somehow cut from the same cloth, moving in unison like they share blood, muscles, bones, and DNA. Their arms sway in unison, their feet gliding in a matching beat on the moonlit asphalt, and fuck me if it doesn’t feel like time slows down. If only to allow everyone to take in the creatures who bend the air into compliance.

Only, they aren’t creatures at all… just four people forming one important faction—The Sanctum. The anomaly of the underworlds, four men ruling as one—Carter Pierce, Finnigan Hennessey, Maddox Severin, and Vincent ‘The Serpent’ Sinclair.

Even thinking of that last name on the list leaves an awful taste on my tongue. It fills me with distaste and loathing for the man.

Queenscove, our southern, seaside city filled with period buildings and very few skyscrapers, is not the place where everyone knows everyone. Unless you’re part of the fairly extensive high society of this wealthy place. Yet wherever they make an appearance, the world stands still. Only, it’s not fear you’re feeling, it’s power. Fear is simply a byproduct. It stems from the rumors swerving about them and their Syndicate—violence, black-market deals, sex, secrets, murders—and no matter which you’ve heard, they amount to one thing and one thing only: danger.

No one knows how many of these rumors are true. None have been denied, or addressed, for that matter, and their presence alone is enough to make you believe all of them and more.

It annoys me that Queenscove feels safer because they’re here.

I knew them once. Well, I knew two of them, one… far too intimately. But I remember all of them when they were young, still in school. I was a starry-eyed kid, four grades lower than them, but even then, they were a force of fucking nature. Even through the shivers they gave you, you still craved to throw yourself in the middle of their storm.

Their affairs aren’t common knowledge, but my family’s position in this society poses some advantages for me. Although nowadays I would rather not be part of this family at all, it does mean that I end up hearing all sorts of interesting things. I’ve built up all this information, piece by piece, and amongst other things, I know that their most profitable business is secrets. They harness them, keep them safe until the time comes, and they have to use them to their advantage. Whether for new business deals or to manipulate other people. The wheel is constantly spinning.

Information is power and power is worth more than money.

The Serpent should know.

He’s the only one of The Sanctum who didn’t come from money. Instead, he built his reputation on pure talent. One he wields dangerously well. People say all he needs is his piercing gaze to gather all the information he requires from someone. Although, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t shy away from physical torture. His intensity is brutal, and using it to manipulate his victims is what earned him his reputation. Both between the criminal world and the aristocracy.

He doesn’t need old money. His pockets could be as empty as they were ten years ago, but the world would still bow at his feet. He is power.

The black-eyed devil himself—my ex-boyfriend.

And my first love.

The scar running across my palm itches at the sight of him.

Suddenly, I’m painfully aware of the man sitting next to me right now. He would probably kill for The Serpent’s skill. And this is not a thought I would have had about him six months ago… but things change. So many things have changed.

The four men walk on the sidewalk, calm and determined, passing by the old-time cinema, a quirky flower shop, then one of the city’s fanciest restaurants, before shifting directions to a dark and narrow side street. Hushed rumors have spread through the high society of Queenscove about a speakeasy they own, nestled in plain sight, somewhere in the middle of the city. Maybe that’s where they’re headed now. I have a vague idea of where it could be, a radius more than anything, but neither me nor my family have been invited. Although, those who have been, cannot speak of it. So who knows.

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued. That I wouldn’t want a taste, a little peek.

The first man dips into the shadows of the street, then the second one, and after the third man follows, their black suit covered bodies absorbed by the darkness, The Serpent takes one more step and stops.

I swear time slows down just for him, his body turning ever so slightly, his eyes closed as he moves to look over his shoulder. Then they open… not wide, but the slits of a snake who found its next meal—and that’s exactly what I am.

What happens when you gaze upon the devil… and he catches you?

When his eyes land on yours and he marks you as a target?

What happens when the devil doesn’t look like a devil at all?

Dozens of people sit at the tables of this street-side bar terrace, yet his gaze landed straight on mine. I’m forced to take in his strong, almost square jaw that’s dusted with thick hair, those full lips, and straight, wide nose. He’s kept his black hair short on the sides, but the top is a few inches long, messily swept back, and I hate how good he looks.

Saliva pools in my mouth, but swallowing means moving, and somehow moving seems to be the wrong action right now. He’s fixed on me. Unnaturally still. But the shadows of the street swallow him, as if the darkness is part of him, a coat he wears so well.

Whispers break out in unison on the terrace and the back of my neck heats up—they’re talking about me. No one missed their presence on the street, so hiding this silent, yet powerful exchange is impossible.

Moments pass, the night breeze unhelpful as my eyes begin to burn with the need to blink. Only I have a fucking point to prove. I am not submitting to him. I will not break eye contact first.

“Darling?”

Shut the fuck up, Ryan.

“Morrigan?!” His tone switches to commanding.

The Serpent’s gaze suddenly darkens even more. I’m not sure how I know this, but I’m convinced no one else notices the subtle shift, the gentle scowl forming between his eyebrows. I’m also sure it’s not meant for me either, but for…

A hand waves in front of my eyes, breaking the connection.

Goddamnit, Ryan!

When that palm vacates my line of sight, The Serpent is gone, the side street empty.

Turning to Ryan, the ruckus of the terrace patrons fills the night again. Stealing a glance around myself, it’s impossible to miss how they watch me from the corners of their eyes, even if their conversations are not about me.

“Yes, Ryan.” My eyes land on him before I fully face him, and I’m met with his pursed lips, flared nostrils, and scrunched eyebrows.

There isn’t much more I can take from my relationship with him, even though I do kind of care about him. A year ago, I would have said with certainty that I loved him. Now, as the veil has been pulled away further, I’m convinced that love is far too strong of a word for what we have… had.

I’ve been ready to leave for a while. Ever since it all started to change. When he started to change.

However, our families seem just as involved in our relationship as we are. Actually… more than I am. Leaving him seems like breaking a treaty between two nations. As I’ve been distancing myself, they seem to insist harder on meeting, pushing us together, forcing us to dinners and events. Every encounter breaks the confidence I’ve been trying to build. And it’s just as difficult for me to break away from my own family.

“What the hell was that?!” he presses, struggling to control the distaste in his tone.

“I don’t know,” I say, shrugging.

I’m not fully lying. I don’t know what it was from The Serpent’s point of view, but I do know what it was from mine—hate. Luckily, this city is big enough that I managed to avoid him almost unintentionally over the years. We’ve rarely crossed paths, and I like it this way. Months must have passed since the last time I saw him…

God, I’m fucking fooling myself.

It’s been exactly five months, three weeks, and two days—my mother’s 50^th fucking birthday. The elite were invited. The Sanctum, too. I was sure my parents did it as a power move, either to display some sort of fake alliance or because they were begging for a business deal.

Five fucking months and that night still haunts me.

If only it was the only one that did…

I focus on Ryan’s murky brown eyes, like a marsh, with hints of green. They used to be kind of pretty, but now all I can think of is a swamp when I look into them. Nothing special sparks in them anymore.

“He was just staring at you,” he speaks again, his tone grating.

Blinking, I turn my gaze back toward the dark side street.

Yes, he was.

“Answer me, goddamnit.” He lowers his tone, but almost hisses at me.

“You didn’t ask a question.”

He huffs so loudly I catch the people at the next table over briefly turning their attention to us.

“Don’t act like I don’t know your past, Morrigan.”

“My past?! What are you talking about, Ryan?” I ask, baffled by his insinuation. He knows about The Serpent and I, since we were all in the same school at one time, but he also knows how long ago it was.

“Don’t play stupid, you know very well what I’m talking about. I know you saw him at your parents’ party, too. If anything is going on, I swear…”

“Did you want me to keep my eyes closed throughout the entire night so The Serpent wouldn’t grace my line of sight?” My sarcastic tone is louder, and I don’t miss the bulging of his eyes as he subtly glances around us.

It seems to shut him up, and he shifts his attention elsewhere.

The Sanctum is fearless, seemingly indestructible, and that whole invitation must mean that my father is doing business with them, or maybe attempting to. For five months, I’ve been trying to figure out what’s happening with my family. They are dysfunctional in their normal state, but things have been changing. It feels different. Like we’re sitting at the edge of a cliff, and any moment now, a storm will tip us over.

I wish I wouldn’t think about it as us. I wish I wouldn’t be involved in whatever the fuck it is, but I seem to be pulled into it, if their recent cushy attitude toward Ryan is anything to go by. But if this is a game of chess, I’m no Queen in it. Not even a Knight—I’m a pawn. Not that I was ever anything more to my parents, my father specifically. I was never as important as my older brother, Cillian. He is the future of this family, the one to take over whatever businesses father has, and the O’Rourke name further. Carry it deeper into our fucked-up family history. Even our ancestors were crazy sons of bitches. Some were worse than others. Cruel, despicable, lacking remorse, even slave owners a few centuries ago.

I’m not implying I’m a saint. I know where my soul belongs. But it doesn’t mean my place is with them. My brand of sin is different from theirs, and as long as I continue to be careful, they won’t know I’m trying to get away from all of them until it’s too late to stop me.

It’s funny how Ryan used to be my escape from them. Not anymore. Not since he realized he couldn’t quite tame me, and his views started aligning with his father’s… and my father’s. My boyfriend’s exertion of control these days runs deeper than I would care to admit. His time will come, and just like my family, he will pay, too.

If only I would actually get my fucking balls back.

“I think I’m ready to go home now,” I say.

“Alone?!”

I mentally roll my eyes. As if I’m ever alone. There are constant eyes on me, especially as of late. Since Ryan’s father passed away, he is slowly taking over the crooked family business and accepting his place as the head of it. Something is brewing, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t find out what it is. All I know is that our families, before the passing of Jonah Holt, were working on something, a business deal. An alliance. Why or for what, I have no clue. But it feels like the terms have changed now that he’s not here anymore.

“Alone, yes. I have things to do.”

“Things?” He spits the word out like the lack of respect he has toward my work isn’t already blatantly obvious.

Just because my branding and design work takes place exclusively online, it doesn’t mean it’s not work. I majored in graphic design and took my talent to a pretty damn profitable business, banking at least a couple of grand per project. I’m quick though, and I’ve been pushing myself hard enough that I can take quite a few per month. But Ryan does not know that.

I get up before he can say anything else, then dip down and give him a peck on the lips. I know he won’t let me leave without the mimicked affection. But he catches my upper arm just as I’m almost standing and pulls me back down, his lips crashing onto mine in a much deeper kiss.

It’s a sort of claim on me, for everyone around us to see.

After The Serpent’s earlier display, such a rare sight, I’m sure he feels the need to piss all over me. Mark his territory and make sure everyone knows who I belong to.

I allow the kiss mostly because I have no other choice. But it’s for my own survival. I have to play nice.

Hopefully not for long.