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Prologue

Aoife

I should feel guilty.

The blade rests in my palm.Its cold weight is a reminder of what I’ve chosen to do.What I’ve become.The room smells of damp stone and fear, the air so thick I can almost taste the tension.Ruairi sits bound in the chair before me, his head slumped forward, his breathing ragged.My twin.My blood.The other half of me, whose shadow I’ve spent my entire life living in.

And here I am, about to prove once and for all that I’m just as worthy.

The pendulum swings in the shadows above us.Its steady rhythm echoes the pounding in my chest, a reminder of how little time I have.I trace the edge of the blade with my thumb, watching the light flicker across its surface.One slice.One mark to prove that I’m not the same girl he’s always underestimated.

“Do it,” Eamon murmurs from the corner.Smooth, steady, unrelenting.He’s the devil on my shoulder, the man who saw in me what Ruairi never would.

Strength.Ambition.Fire.

Ruairi lifts his head slowly, his bloodshot eyes locking onto mine.He doesn’t plead.He doesn’t flinch.He merely stares at me with that infuriating mix of defiance and pity, like he still thinks I’m a child playing a dangerous game.

“You don’t have to do this, Aoife,” he says, his voice hoarse but steady.“You’re not like him.”

I laugh, though it tastes bitter on my tongue.“And what am I like, Ruairi?A good little girl?The obedient twin?The one you keep locked away while you play king?”

His jaw tightens, and I see the crack in his armor.My words hurt more than the blade ever could.

“You’re better than this,” he whispers, his voice softer now.Almost pleading.

But I’m not.

I press the blade against his skin.He winces, though he doesn’t try to pull away.My hand trembles.Not because I can’t do it, but because I know this moment will change everything.

“Better?”I whisper, my voice breaking.“Better doesn’t survive in our world, Ruairi.You taught me that.”

The pendulum swings lower, its hiss slicing through the silence.Eamon shifts in the shadows, waiting, watching.

But tonight, I’m not here to be his equal.I’m here to take the throne.

I tighten my grip, my voice steadier.“You’re right, Ruairi.”

He blinks, his expression caught between shock and confusion.

“I’m not like him.And I’m not like you either.”

Aoife

The Maldives wasn’ta lifelong dream or a bucket list destination.It was justnext.

After weeks of shivering through the cold streets of Prague and Helsinki, I craved warmth.Sunlight.Something that didn’t feel like a punishment for stepping outside.And so, here I am, soaking in paradise.

From the deck of my villa, the turquoise water stretches endlessly, shimmering under the afternoon sun.The private infinity pool glistens, a perfect mirror of the sea.Every detail is designed to soothe, to make me forget the chaos of the world outside this tiny pocket of perfection.

And for a few moments, it works.

Traveling is what I do—what my father lets me do.He calls it freedom, a way to see the world, to live a life untouched by the darker corners of his empire.But I know better.It’s a distraction.A gilded cage designed to keep me out of trouble, out of his business, and above all, safe.

That’s why he funds it all without question, from the penthouse suites in Paris to the remote retreats in the Himalayas.“Go anywhere, Aoife,” he told me.“You can do anything except take part in the Quigley Syndicate.”

Da believes I’m too fragile for his world, too good for it.But what he doesn’t see is how this life, this constant moving, learning, and adapting, is preparing me for the day I’ll step into his world, whether he wants me to or not.

While he thinks I’m sipping champagne and collecting pretty postcards, I’ve been training.Shooting in Moscow, sparring in Bangkok, grappling in Amsterdam.Every skill I’ve picked up is a weapon he doesn’t know I’m forging.One day, I’ll walk into his office and prove to him that I’m not a delicate little girl.I’m every bit as strong and capable as my twin brother, Ruairi.