"This seat's taken."
"Then move."
"You don't know who I am."
"I don't care."
That's how we met.
She looked at me like she could kill me with a blink. I smiled like I'd enjoy it.
"You've got an attitude."
"You've got a death wish."
"Maybe. But not tonight."
The underground fight club pulsed around us—blood, sweat, power.
I wasn't here to place bets.
I was here because I owned this chaos. The men bled for me. The cash moved for me. The fear bowed to me.
But her?
She didn't bow. She burned.
"No names." She lifted her whiskey like it was a weapon.
"No promises." I tipped mine back like it was a challenge.
"No rules." She smirked.
"I burn rules." I fired back.
Her lips curved like she knew I was dangerous.
"Careful. You might burn yourself."
"I always do."
It wasn't love. It was a wildfire.
One night. No names. No rules. No future.
Just flames.
I let her go at sunrise. No chasing. No regret.
That's what I told myself.
Until I walked into my father's mansion.
The house was all polished glass and suffocating wealth, but I smelled smoke the second I stepped in.
Her.
Black silk. Dangerous fire.
Standing beside my father's new wife.
Her.
Our eyes locked. Her breath caught.
I leaned against the marble pillar, a slow grin slicing across my face.
"Well, hello, sis."
Her mother beamed, clueless.
"Sienna, this is your new family."
Family.
I moved closer, whispering where only she could hear.
"Fate's funny, huh? Still no names. Still no rules."
She shoved a folded note into my palm, her fingers trembling.
Her voice brushed my ear, low and tight.
"Stay away from me. You have no idea what you've started."
Before I could answer, my father's voice boomed across the hall.
"Silas, I need you to protect them now. The syndicate has eyes on Sienna."
I snapped my gaze to him.
"What syndicate?"
"Enemies. They're already watching her."
Enemies?
She didn't tell me about enemies.
She didn't tell me she was already in the game. Enemies?
Enemies were my playground.
But her? She didn't tell me she was already dancing in the fire.
I turned back to her, jaw tight.
"What the hell did you get yourself into?"
Her eyes flicked to the chandelier, the guards, and the walls that suddenly felt too close.
"You don't want to know."
"Too late. I already do."
She stepped in, close enough to taste the whiskey on her breath.
"Walk away, Silas. I'm not your problem."
"You were my problem the second you stole my seat."
Her throat bobbed. Her defenses cracked for half a second.
That's all I needed.
"Who's watching you?" I pressed.
"They always watch. They don't forget faces. They don't forgive mistakes."
"They should remember mine. I burn faces off the map."
Her lips twitched. Almost a smile. Almost.
My father's voice cut through the tension.
"Silas, now. The family needs protection. Prioritize Sienna."
Prioritize her.
What the hell kind of mess was this?
"I'm not babysitting," I muttered.
"You are," he snapped. "Effective immediately."
Sienna's hand brushed mine, just enough to pass a second note, written messily in pencil.
'Protecting me will kill you.'
I folded the note into my pocket.
"Good. I've been bored anyway."
She turned to leave. I caught her wrist.
"Last chance. You tell me who's coming for you, or I find out my way."
"Finding out will cost you."
"Baby, everything costs me. That's how I know it's worth it."
Her gaze locked on mine.
Something in her shattered—fast, sharp, beautiful.
"The syndicate isn't after me."
"Then who?"
"They're after you. I'm just the bait."
I didn't flinch.
I laughed. I smiled. I loved the game.
"Tell them good luck."
"Why?"
"Because they just walked into my house. And I don't lose in my house."
She ripped free and disappeared down the hall, but not before her final shot:
"This house isn't yours, Silas. Not anymore."
My pulse spiked.
Not mine? Not anymore?
What the hell did she know?
I stormed into my father's office. "Start talking. Who's watching her?"
His answer?
A file slammed onto the desk. The syndicate's mark burned on the cover.
The Shadow Syndicate.
The one organization we were never supposed to cross. The one family that was supposed to be dead.
"They want her," my father said.
"Why?"
"Because she's already theirs."
The walls shifted. The ground tilted. My pulse turned lethal.
She didn't just walk into my house. She brought them with her.
And I just let the enemy through the front door."What do you mean she's already theirs?"
My voice cut like a blade across my father's office.
He wouldn't meet my eyes.
"The Shadow Syndicate marked her when she was still a child. Arranged her like a piece on a chessboard. I thought marrying her mother would keep us safe."
"You thought wrong."
I slammed my fist into the desk, splintering the edge.
"Silas, listen to me—"
"You let the enemy into our bloodline. Into our house. Into my goddamn bed."
His mouth tightened.
"She's a pawn. Nothing more."
"No, she's a bomb."
And I was already holding the detonator.
I stormed out, jaw tight, steps loud enough to shake the floor.
Find her. Now.
I cornered her in the east wing, where sunlight painted her hair like fire.
"You're theirs?" I hissed, voice low, sharp.
"I didn't choose this."
"You chose me last night."
"That wasn't supposed to happen."
"It did."
I moved in close, crowding her, boxing her against the cold marble wall.
"You could've told me."
"Would you have walked away?"
"Hell no. I would've burned them first."
Her breath hitched. She looked like she wanted to hate me, but it was too late for that.
"They own me, Silas. They pull the strings."
"Then let's cut the damn strings."
Her lips parted. I could almost taste the war on her mouth.
"You don't understand—"
"Explain it to me. Fast."
"They're using me to get to you. You're the prize. You're the kill. I was supposed to break you."
"You're doing a terrible job."
Her chest heaved. Her hands trembled.
"You think you're untouchable?"
"No."
I leaned in, slow and lethal.
"I think I'm unstoppable."
Her voice cracked.
"You're already surrounded, Silas. They've infiltrated your guards. Your banks. Your streets. They're closing in."
"Good. Let them come."
"You're insane."
"No, I'm prepared."
I slipped my hand into my pocket and dropped her note between us.
'Protecting me will kill you.'
"Let's see if you're right."
Suddenly, gunfire exploded from the courtyard.
Her eyes went wide.
"They're here. Already. They don't wait."
I pulled my Glock, adrenaline punching through me.
"Neither do I."
Guards scrambled. The mansion shook. The war was here.
"Stay behind me," I barked.
"I can handle myself."
"That's adorable. Stay behind me anyway."
The courtyard gate shattered under a black SUV. Syndicate mercs poured in, masked and armed, moving like they'd rehearsed this a thousand times.
"They know the blueprints!" she shouted.
"Then we improvise."
I fired two clean headshots. The rest ducked.
"Get to the west wing!" I ordered.
"Why?"
"Because that's where I buried the explosives."
She blinked.
"What?!"
"You're not the only one who plays games, sweetheart."
We ran through the smoke, bullets biting at the walls, and as I slammed the detonator, I whispered under my breath:
"Welcome to my house."
The west wing exploded in a roar of fire and falling steel, cutting off half their men.
Her eyes snapped to me, wild and terrified.
"You're a monster."
"I warned you. I burn rules."
But as the smoke cleared, her phone buzzed. A single message.
Her face drained.
"They've taken my mother."
I paused, cold settling in my chest.
"How long have they had her?"
Her voice cracked.
"Since before last night."
The Shadow Syndicate had her mother. And Sienna had been playing me since the moment we met.
But here's the thing—
So had I."You played me?"
The words hit the air like a loaded gun.
Her throat bobbed. She didn't deny it. Didn't even blink.
"You're not the only one who rewrites the rules, Silas."
The fire crackled behind us, the west wing still bleeding smoke.
I stepped into her space, slow, deliberate.
"You knew they had your mother, and you still came for me?"
"I didn't come for you. I was forced to—"
"You sure about that?"
My thumb brushed her jaw, soft but commanding.
"Because last night felt a lot like choice."
Her breath hitched. Her pulse betrayed her.
"They told me to get close. Break you. Bring you to your knees."
"Yeah?" I crowded her against the wall, my voice a velvet threat.
"Sweetheart, you wouldn't survive me on my knees."
She shoved at my chest. I caught her wrists, caging her there, not rough, just enough to remind her who I was.
"You're dangerous."
"You knew that when you let me touch you."
Her eyes burned.
"You're the one who started this."
"And you're the one who wanted to finish it."
I dragged my mouth close to hers, close enough to feel the war waging on her breath.
"Tell me to stop."
Silence.
"Say it, Sienna. Tell me to walk away."
Her fingers curled into my shirt.
"I can't."
"Good."
I kissed her like I was claiming stolen territory. Hard. Hot. Dangerous.
Her body melted against me, her control cracking like thin glass.
One night was never going to be enough. It never was.
She broke first, pulling back just enough to gasp, "They're watching us, Silas. There are cameras—"
"Let them watch."
I kissed her again, deeper, slower, as the adrenaline and gunfire throbbed in the distance.
This wasn't about rebellion anymore. This was about survival.
About war.
About us.
But the moment was shattered when her phone buzzed again.
She stiffened. She showed me the screen.
A new message: "He's not the target. You are. You always were."
I froze. The room spun. The blood in my veins iced.
"What the hell does that mean?" I growled.
Her voice trembled.
"They weren't after you, Silas. They were using you to get to… me."
I snatched the phone, read the sender's tag. My chest went cold.
The Shadow Syndicate's top assassin. A name I'd buried years ago.
My half-brother. Still alive.
"I thought I killed him."
"Not."
"And now he's coming for you."
The walls closed in. The pieces shifted. The game flipped.
"Looks like I'm not just protecting you anymore," I said, jaw tight.
"I'm hunting for blood."