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Prologue: Rowan

Iwake up to the soft touch of a kiss on my forehead. Groaning, I burrow deeper into the sheets, not ready to face the morning yet.

It was a long night of dealing with unrest in Sying and my body is making me pay for all the exertion. Xander made quick work of making the men talk—breaking bones and pulling fingernails until they were ratting each other out at a record speed. I was covered in blood by the end of it, but in a business like ours, it’s a necessary evil, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to show I am ready to one day become the Head of The Snake.

My head throbs, and my bones feel heavy; I don’t want to lose a single minute of sleep, but Alex’s mouth on the column of my neck has my blood rushing down to places I’d rather it doesn’t go right now.

God, who am I?

“Rowan,” he says quietly. “You have to wake up.”

Even though his voice is quiet, I hear the urgency in it.

Alex isn’t the type to whine or plead—he doesn’t have to. He’s quickly learned how to have me at his mercy, so even though I am exhausted, my eyes still flutter open to find his face looming over me, his dark hair hanging around him.

“What’s wrong?” I frown.

It’s only been eight months, but I can read him like a book. I know when he’s lying, when he’s worried, and when he’s happy. He may not be aware of it, but I know everything about him.

His lips curve into a soft smile, but there’s something off, an uneasiness he can’t quite hide. It lingers in his molten sugar-coloured eyes, in the way his fingers tremble slightly as they brush against my skin.

“I missed you last night.”

Silver light spills into my room, the sounds of a busy city filtering in from a distance, and for a second, I’m convinced I’m stuck in a dream. Alex looks fuzzy at the edges, like some sort of mirage. He leans down to kiss me, and this time, everything about him feels solid and real. There is an urgency to the kiss, like we’re running out of time, and he has to consume me before I disappear.

Just then, a loud knock rings through the apartment, but whoever it is, doesn’t wait for me to answer. Alex’s gaze doesn’t waver. Tears glimmer in his eyes, and in that moment—I know.

He leans back, his warmth slipping away from me. The sound of boots echoes through the hallway, voices barking orders. My breath hitches as the door bursts open, uniformed officers flooding in, guns drawn.

Their barrels are trained on me—not Alex.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry, Rowan.”

And strangely, as the new arrivals shout commands for me to raise my hands, as the red dot points to my forehead, I can only smile.

Of course, he did this.

Chapter One: Alex

2 YEARS LATER

This was a mistake.

I shouldn’t have asked him to come.Ishouldn’t have come. But if I have any chance of saving Halle, this is the only way I can think of doing it. All I need is a sliver of information, something to point in me in the right direction, and if it means bending on all fours and begging Rowan Vasilyev—I’ll do it.

I glance at my watch. 18:56. Four minutes to go.

My legs bounce under the table; the frantic tap of my heel barely audible over the soft jazz and the distant clink of glasses. The bar is sleek and warm, all trendy beige lime-wash walls and cozy lighting.

I look out the glass doors. October has arrived with a brutal cold snap, bypassing the soft chill of autumn and plunging us deep into winter. Outside, rain falls in slanted sheets, hitting against the windows and beating against the cars outside.

I’m burning up in my sweater, and not for the first time, I wish I had my gun and badge. I couldn’t use them, of course, but maybe they would make me feel less vulnerable around him.

“Calm down,” I whisper to myself. “He can’t kill you here.”

But he can. Rowan can do whatever he wants.

Just then, the door swings open, and there he is: Rowan Vasilyev.