Alice's POV
Five years.
Five damn years.
That's how long it's been since I've put the girl before me to rest.
Now I walk into the city that tried to kill me, in black heels sharp enough to rip a throat out, with secrets stitched in my skin, burning with revenge between my lips.
The night air is heavy with memories; bitter, sultry, and dangerous.
I lift my chin as the wrought iron gates of the Hunt Syndicate mansion creak open right before me. Of course, they would be hosting the engagement party tonight at their house. The family still has a flair for drama. Marble floors with blood stains. Crystalline chandeliers with guillotines swaying above. Shades of red from crystal glasses that would even shatter with pressure, much like the people drinking from them.
And in the middle of it all.
Him.
Jermin Hunt.
He's reclined on a velvet throne-like chair like a fucking king, all sharp jaw and darker sins. Black tailored suit clinging to his body like it was stitched onto sin itself. The second his eyes lift and meet mine across the room, the air in the room condenses.
My heart?
It betrayed me. One beat. One skip.
Then it settles-cold, angry, focused.
He doesn't know me yet.
He shouldn't.
The Alice he knew passed away the night my father was murdered. That night was when I found Jermin with blood on his hands and betrayal on his lips.
Now I'm back, lips stained and darker intentions.
I weave through glassy-eyed guests, mafia heirs, like a siren shrouded in lace and shadow. The room parts before me, basking in their hushed whispers. Elijah's voice murmurs in my ear through the earpiece hidden beneath my dark hair.
"He hasn't made the connection yet. But he's watching you like you're his next goddamn fixation."
"Let him watch," I whisper back, lips barely moving. "The closer he gets, the deeper the knife will go."
"Copy that," Elijah snarls. "But don't get cocky, Alice. The Hunt family doesn't play fair."
"I don't need fair. I need to focus."
A pause. Then his low chuckle. "There she is."
I don't flinch when Jermin rises and approaches me. The step he takes is intentional. Possessive. He hasn't changed-not in the way he moved, not in the way his presence eats up every damn molecule in the room.
He looms before me. That's too near.
His voice is low, woven with a rasp I used to ache for. "Who are you?"
"My bride," I purr, accepting the engagement contract from the crystal tray a servant offers between us. I sign without breaking eye contact. "Didn't they warn you?"
His jaw clenches. "They told me someone from the Monroe bloodline survived. I did not know she would have a mouth like yours."
I smile sweetly. "And they did not tell you Monroe women bite."
Jermin's smile is dark. Deadly. "I enjoy a woman with teeth."
I lean in just enough to let my perfume take its hint of a journey to wrap itself around him again. "Careful what you wish for."
He leans in, fingers grazing the bare skin of my back. My body tenses. Not because I want him. Because I remember what it was to love him. To burn alongside him.
"Then let's see how hard you bite, Alice."
He knows.
The way he says my name—damn well knows now.
And still, he takes my hand.
The crowd then erupts into applause, glasses of champagne clinking in toast for this unholy union.
But Jermin's lips find my ear where he whispers, "Whatever game you're playing, sweetheart, remember—I don't lose."
I turn to him, my lips finding his in a kiss so slow, so taunting, it steals the breath from us both. A kiss meant for pain, not passion. Our bodies droop into a tango of poison and past.
He kissed me back. Feral. Possessive.
Like he never remembered.
Like he never stopped.
When I finally pull my lips away, my voice is breathy and lethal.
"Neither do I."
He studies me, something feral burning behind those frozen silver eyes. "Why now?" he snarls. "Why come back after all this time?"
I tilt my head, letting my voice drip poison honey. "Perhaps I missed your charming personality."
"You missed something," he snarls, eyes following the curve of my body, but suspicion is in the twist of his lip. "And it wasn't me."
The rest of the night is a blur of struggles for power, toasts and grumbled threats. I maintain my facade—the flirt, the graceful, untouchable one. Each move I make is measured; each glance, each smile, rehearsed and lethal.
"Time will tell," I whispered as I placed my fingers against the earpiece, stepping away from a group of drunken heirs. "Is it time?"
"You have five minutes before she makes a move. You sure about this?"
"I've never been more sure about anything in my entire life."
My alibi is complete. I float down the hall to the library where I left something. Priceless.
I open the door disguised as a secret passage.
And my world stops.
There, standing, holding the small hand of a boy with silver eyes and dark curls, his eyes shining wide with awe.
Is Mrs. Hunt.
And my son.
Noah.
Her smile is as cold as a dagger covered in honey.
"I told you to leave and never come back, Alice," she says.
I swallow and let blood congeal in my veins. "Let him go."
She plays her fingers through Noah's hair as if she owns him. "Imagine my surprise. That you came back with this."
"Noah, come here, baby." My voice cracks just slightly.
But he doesn't move.
Mrs. Hunt's hand tightens on his shoulder. "He's turned into such a good little Hunt. You should be proud."
It's like the heart is already beating against the ribs. "He's not a Hunt. He's mine."
"Wrong," she says smoothly. "He's ours now."
Before I can react, before I can say—
A gun cocks behind me.
Jermin's voice cuts
through the silence like a knife. "Alice. What the fuck is happening?"