The black SUV moved like a shadow through the city, tinted windows shielding them from the early afternoon glare. Ariana sat beside Brandon, fully suited in black, adrenaline thumping a pulse against her ribs. He drove fast, silent, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the gearshift with that same lethal calm that made him so damn intoxicating.
"What exactly are we walking into?" she asked, eyes flicking to the tablet in her lap. A still image of Kaya flashed across it—red hair, sharp jaw, violet eyes, and a smirk that looked like trouble.
"A nest," Brandon said. "Ricco doesn't operate out in the open unless he's luring someone in. Kaya's smart, but she doesn't fight. She runs code, not combat. If they grabbed her, it's because they want information."
"On you?"
"On both of us now."
That made her stomach twist.
She wasn't used to being a target. Not like this. Not on a level where private armies and hired guns came into play.
But Brandon didn't flinch. He never did.
The bar came into view, tucked between two shuttered buildings in the heart of the city's forgotten district. No signage. No flashing lights. Just a red neon symbol above the door—two crossed blades, pulsing faintly in the daylight.
Brandon slowed, eyes scanning every window, every figure on the sidewalk. "Backup's already staged. Don't hesitate. If it moves toward you, drop it."
Ariana nodded, fingers tightening around the small weapon he'd given her earlier—a sleek pistol that felt terrifyingly light in her palm.
They slipped out the SUV and into the shadows.
The front of the bar was locked. Brandon didn't even try to pick it—he kicked the door in like thunder, and the noise inside stilled.
Gunfire cracked off instantly.
He shoved Ariana behind the wall, returning fire with ruthless precision. She peeked out in time to see one of Ricco's men drop like a puppet with cut strings.
They moved in tandem.
Brandon swept left, Ariana right. Her heartbeat was like a war drum in her ears, but her aim stayed steady. One of the men lunged toward her and she squeezed the trigger—his body fell with a grunt, stunned but breathing.
Not dead. Not yet.
She didn't have time to process the fact she'd just shot someone. She pressed on.
At the back of the bar, a scream echoed.
"Kaya," Brandon growled, voice feral now.
He kicked through the office door.
Inside, two men were holding her—one by the arms, one with a blade too close to her throat. She was bloodied, but her glare was pure venom.
Brandon didn't wait.
He fired once, clean and straight, and the man with the knife hit the floor before he could blink.
Ariana stepped in and cold-cocked the second with the butt of her gun. He slumped over Kaya, who shoved him off with a groan.
"You took your sweet time, boss," she spat, wiping blood from her mouth.
"You're welcome," he muttered, grabbing her under the arm and pulling her to her feet.
Kaya looked at Ariana then—really looked. "So this is the girl?"
Ariana blinked, surprised. "You've heard of me?"
"Only every time he breathes."
Brandon gave Kaya a sharp look. She smirked despite the split lip. "What? It's true."
They got her out through the back alley, Brandon's men clearing the perimeter. Kaya winced every few steps but waved off help.
When they reached the SUV, she finally turned to Ariana, dead serious now. "You're in deep. Whatever you were before—normal, safe, loved by the wrong guy—that ends now."
Ariana nodded slowly. "I know."
Kaya raised a brow. "Good. Because Ricco was just the start."
---
Back at the mansion, Kaya was treated in a private medical room with more tech than a hospital. Ariana waited just outside, head still buzzing with adrenaline and the taste of gun smoke in her mouth.
Brandon leaned against the wall across from her.
"You did good," he said.
Ariana looked up. "I shot someone."
"You didn't kill him."
"I almost did."
Brandon stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Ari… you did what you had to. You didn't freeze. You didn't run. That's more than most."
She searched his face. "Does it scare you?"
"What?"
"That I might be turning into someone like you?"
He stepped in, so close now she could feel the heat of his breath.
"No," he said. "It terrifies me how much I like it."
His lips crashed into hers again, but this time it was different—rougher, needier. He pulled her against the wall, hands in her hair, thigh pressing between hers.
"You saved someone today," he murmured into her mouth. "And you looked so goddamn sexy doing it."
She kissed him back hard, wrapping her legs around his hips, letting the tension explode between them like a charge. His hand slid under her shirt, up her spine, cupping her shoulder blade as he pressed her closer.
They didn't make it upstairs.
He took her right there—against the wall of a hallway she didn't even know existed.
It was fast, primal, and filled with everything they couldn't say out loud.
By the time he carried her to his room after, they were both shaking.
---
Later, lying on black silk sheets, Ariana traced one of the tattoos on his chest with her finger.
"Why did you really come for Kaya?" she asked softly.
Brandon exhaled. "Because she's family. The only kind I have left."
"And me?"
He looked at her. Really looked.
"You're not family, Ariana."
She flinched a little.
"You're mine."
His voice was possessive. Unapologetic. And yet, it made something warm and dangerous bloom in her chest.
"You still haven't told me everything, have you?"
"No," he said. "Because once I do, you won't ever leave."
And she wasn't sure if that was a threat… or a vow.