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The iron gates of the Mercer estate did not open easily for anyone, let alone a ghost in a faded gray coat. When Prescott led her across the cobblestone courtyard, she didn’t look like an assassin, a spy, or a desperate beggar. She looked like a woman who had already died once and forgot to lie down. / Chapter 10 / 20

Chapter 10 - A New DynastySix months later, the Chicago autumn air was crisp and smelled of falling leaves and woodsmoke.

The grand gates of the Mercer estate stood wide open for the first time in years.

Outside on the sprawling front lawn, Jonah and Blythe were chasing each other through the golden leaves, their high-pitched laughter echoing across the courtyard like music I had once feared I would never hear again.

I stood on the veranda, sipping my coffee, watching them run.

Prescott’s empty chair at the administrative desk had long since been filled by a trusted, vetted team, and the shadow of Crosby Vane had been erased from the city's underworld. The Mercer name was no longer just a symbol of fear, guns, and untouchable power.

It was a sanctuary.

My phone buzzed quietly on the small patio table beside me. I picked it up and looked at the screen. An unknown number, originating from a payphone in downtown Detroit.

I swiped to answer, pressing the phone to my ear.

For a long moment, there was only static on the line. Then, a familiar, raspy voice broke through the silence.

"Make sure they eat their vegetables, Lawson," Elena said softly.

Before I could reply, the line clicked dead.

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The rain tapped a frantic rhythm against the glass of Marissa’s cramped, dimly lit kitchen, but the storm outside was nothing compared to the tempest raging inside Adrian Whitmore’s mind. Standing just beyond the rotting wooden doorframe of her apartment, hidden by the heavy shadows of the crumbling stairwell, the millionaire tried to steady his breathing. His expensive wool coat was soaked through, but he didn’t care. His eyes were entirely fixed on the scene unfolding a few feet away.

The rain tapped a frantic rhythm against the glass of Marissa’s cramped,...

My hand froze inches from the cold steel of the Sig Sauer P226. Beneath the amber glow of the bedside lamp, the source of the warmth against my side wasn't an assassin, an operative from a rival syndicate, or a traitorous lieutenant.

My hand froze inches from the cold steel of the Sig Sauer P226. Beneath...

The silence in the master bedroom stretched so tight I could hear the slow, heavy drip of my own pulse in my ears. Dominic Rossi’s dark eyes locked onto mine, burning with a feverish intensity that should have sent me running back down the hallway and out into the rain

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I looked back out at the lawn where Jonah and Blythe were waving frantically at me, their faces flushed with life and health. A slow, genuine smile spread across my face for the first time in two years.

"I will," I whispered to the empty air, and locked the phone away for good.

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