Page 36

Flint

The sun has nearly disappeared by the time we leave the cemetery, the sky fading from dusty orange to deep purple.

Our shadows stretch long against the gravel path, three silhouettes merging into one twisted shape.

Briar walks between us, her fingers linked with mine, her other hand tucked into the crook of Damiano’s arm.

It feels wrong to feel this good. This whole fucking day has been a surprise—no arguments, no bullshit drama, merely the three of us existing in the same space without tearing each other apart. Almost like normal people, if normal people shared bloody secrets and complicated feelings.

“That was actually nice,” I admit, breaking the comfortable silence as we approach the cemetery gates. “Minus the tourists with the selfie sticks, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Briar echoes, the smile in her voice warming something in my chest. “I think the cemetery’s keepers would be horrified if they knew we were treating it like a dating spot.”

“Trust me, they’ve seen worse,” I say, thinking of the countless teenagers who’ve used this place for even less savory activities over the years.

We reach the wrought iron gates, rusted and massive against the darkening sky. The parking lot is nearly empty, only our cars and a sleek black Lexus that looks way too familiar. My stomach drops.

“Fuck,” I mutter, instinctively pulling Briar closer, my body tensing. “That’s Viktor’s car.”

Damiano sees it, too. His casual stance immediately shifts, shoulders squaring, jaw tightening. “Let’s go around the back.” He’s already turning to guide Briar in the opposite direction.

Too late.

Viktor Bastian emerges from behind a weathered stone angel, his massive frame blocking our path. The security earpiece is gone, replaced by a sleek black baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, but the intimidating presence remains.

“Well, well,” he says, deceptively casual. “Small island.”

Every instinct screams at me to put myself between him and Briar, but that would only make us look guilty. Instead, I force my posture to relax, keeping my grip on Briar’s hand firm but not panicked.

“Viktor,” I acknowledge with a nod. “ Cemetery visit? Wouldn’t have pegged you for the sentimental type.”

He studies the three of us, taking in our linked hands, the easy proximity, the intimate bubble we’ve created. Something flickers across his face—curiosity, suspicion, or maybe calculation.

“Visiting old friends,” he says vaguely, then gestures at us. “This is... cozy. Didn’t realize you three were so close.”

Briar’s hand tightens in mine, and I squeeze back, hoping it conveys the message: don’t panic .

“Island’s full of surprises.” Damiano’s tone is neutral but his body is angled slightly in front of Briar.

Viktor’s gaze lingers on Briar, assessing her with cold precision. “Ms. Waters. Recovered from all the excitement, I see.”

“Just enjoying the evening,” she says with remarkable steadiness. “Fresh air does wonders.”

“I’m sure it does.” He flicks his attention back to me. “Don’t forget we need extra security for Heathens tonight. The summer crowd’s getting rowdy.”

“Already handled,” I reply, keeping my tone casual. “Everything’s set for ten.”

He nods, then turns to Damiano. “You’ll be there tonight, right? Locke was asking.”

Damiano shifts his weight, a barely perceptible tension running through him. “Of course,” he answers, carefully neutral. “Wouldn’t miss it. ”

Briar glances between us, her expression unreadable.

“Good,” Viktor says, something knowing in his expression. “And Ms. Waters? You coming to check it out?”

Before Briar can answer, both Damiano and I speak at once.

“No.” “She won’t be there.”

Our synchronized response hangs awkwardly in the air. Viktor’s eyebrows rise slightly, his gaze sharpening as it moves between the three of us.

“Didn’t know you two were making her decisions now,” he says with a smirk. To Briar, he says, “Waters family’s never shown up for the fun stuff. Time to break tradition, maybe?”

Briar straightens, and I recognize the stubborn set of her jaw. Fuck.

“Maybe it is,” she says, her chin lifting slightly in that way I’m learning means trouble.

Viktor’s smile widens, clearly pleased with her response. “Perfect. Figured you’d be more interesting than your old man.” He slides his gaze to me. “Flint can show you the ropes. He’s been running this shit for years.”

“I’ll bet,” Briar says, something challenging in her response that makes my pulse spike.

Damiano is tensing beside her, and my own anxiety ratchets up another notch.

“Anyway,” Viktor says, checking his watch, “gotta bounce. Waters,” he says with a nod to Briar. “ Looking forward to seeing you there. I’ll give you the VIP tour, show you what your daddy’s been keeping you from all these years.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Damiano cuts in, sounding cold.

Viktor’s laugh is short and sharp. “Still playing bodyguard, Ricci? Some shit never changes.” He tips his hat slightly. “Later.”

We watch him go to his Lexus, the tension between us building with each step he takes. Only when his taillights disappear down the winding road do I let out the breath I’ve been holding.

“Fuck,” I exhale. “That was?—”

“I’m coming tonight,” Briar states.

“Absolutely not,” Damiano growls, closing his hand around her upper arm. His grip isn’t painful, but it’s firm enough to make his stance clear. “It’s not happening.”

I step closer, boxing her in between us. “For once, I agree with him. No fucking way you’re going anywhere near The Vault tonight.”

Briar narrows her eyes as she looks between us. “Excuse me? Did I miss the part where I signed away my autonomy to you two?”

“This isn’t about autonomy,” I snap, dropping to a harsh whisper. “This is about staying alive. Viktor is fishing, and you’re about to bite the hook like it’s covered in fucking candy.”

Damiano’s expression darkens further. “He’s right. Viktor wants you there for a reason, and it’s not to show you a good time.”

“Let go of my arm,” Briar says quietly, her gaze fixed on Damiano’s hand.

He releases her immediately but doesn’t step back. “Briar?—”

“No, you listen to me.” She’s trembling slightly but gaining strength with each word. “I understand you’re trying to protect me. I even appreciate it. But treating me like I’m made of glass or too stupid to make my own decisions? That I don’t appreciate.”

I clench my jaw. “Nobody said you’re stupid?—”

“You didn’t have to,” she shoots back. “You’re both standing there making choices for me like I’m a child. I’m the one who killed Liam. I’m the one who has the most to lose if Viktor figures it out.”

Something in her words hits home, and I exchange a glance with Damiano. His expression is still thunderous, but there’s a hint of uncertainty now.

“It’s not up for debate.” She crosses her arms. “Viktor’s already seen us together. He’s already suspicious. And given how fast gossip spreads on this island, people probably already know the three of us are... whatever we are.”

“That’s exactly why you shouldn’t go,” I counter. “He’s looking for connections, and we’ve just handed him one on a silver fucking platter.”

“He’ll be doing that anyway,” she points out. “At least at The Vault I can see what we’re up against. Know thy enemy and all that.”

“This isn’t a fucking war strategy game.” Damiano rakes a hand through his hair. “These people are dangerous. Viktor is dangerous.”

“I know that,” Briar says, softening slightly as she places a hand on his chest. “But hiding makes me look guilty. Going makes me look curious.”

The gesture seems to deflate some of Damiano’s anger. His hand covers hers, large and protective. “You have no idea what you’re walking into.”

“These events... they’re not like your party,” he continues, gentler now but no less intense. “They’re darker. More exposed. People lose control.”

“I killed a man,” she says, dropping to a fierce whisper. “I think I can handle a fancy sex club party.”

“It’s not just that,” I try to explain. “Viktor uses these nights to gather information, to watch people when they’re vulnerable. If you show up?—”

“If I show up, it’ll look natural,” she cuts me off. “Like I’m just checking out the local scene with my... whatever you two are to me. If I avoid it now, after he’s seen us together, it looks way more suspicious.”

Damiano runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. “She has a point, Flint.”

“Don’t tell me you’re actually considering this,” I hiss at him.

“I’m trying to think clearly,” he says, eyes locked on Briar. “If she doesn’t show, Viktor will wonder why. Especially after how eager she seemed.”

“So we’re risking her safety because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut?” I argue, instinctively pressing my hand more firmly against her back.

“I’m standing right here,” Briar says, irritation flashing in her eyes. She twists away from my touch. “And I’m going, with or without your approval. I’d prefer with, since you two actually know what to expect.”

“Briar,” Damiano says in that deep register that usually means he’s deadly serious. “If anything happens to you?—”

“Nothing will happen,” she interrupts, her expression softening as she looks between us. “I’ll be careful. I promise. But I need to do this. I can’t just hide and hope this all goes away.”

Something in her vulnerability breaks through my anger. I can see Damiano’s resolve crumbling too.

I want to argue more, but the determined look in her eyes stops me. This isn’t the fragile princess I first imagined her to be. She’s proven that over and over.

“Fine,” I concede with a sigh, “but you stay with one of us at all times. No wandering off, no talking to Viktor alone, and you wear what I tell you to wear.”

“Agreed,” she says, the victory already clear in her smile. “See? Was that so hard? Letting me make my own choices while setting reasonable boundaries? ”

“Don’t push it,” I warn, but there’s no real heat in my words. “This whole plan is still fucking stupid.”

“And if either of us says it’s time to go, we go,” Damiano adds. “No arguments.”

“Deal.” She looks between us, a flash of excitement mixing with the apprehension in her eyes. “So... what exactly does one wear to a primal ritual sex party?”

Despite everything, I find myself laughing. “Something that won’t draw too much attention,” I say, knowing it’s probably impossible. Briar Waters will draw attention no matter what she wears. “And for fuck’s sake, stay away from white dresses.”

“Noted.” Her hand finds mine again, squeezing gently. “It’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Her confidence should be reassuring, but all I can think about is Viktor’s calculating gaze, the way he observed her like she was a puzzle to solve.