She scoffed. “I haven’t talked to Jet in days. If you had heard something like that, you wouldn’t wait to call me out on it.”

  I might know my siblings, but they knew me as well. Then her words sank in.

  “So you have been talking to him?” I hissed.

  She shrugged. “I was able to get in touch with him, yes.”

  “So what the fuck are we doing?” I tsked, clicking my tongue. “Why this charade with Gabriel?”

  Behind me, Gabriel stood still, his presence grounding and protective, but he didn’t interfere, and I appreciated that more than anything else.

  “No charade,” Elira grumbled defensively. “We’re doing what’s best for our family—for you, Jet, and me.”

  “And Gabriel and Anya?” I questioned. “What does it have to do with them?”

  Elira clammed up, and seeing the stubborn tilt to her chin, I knew she wouldn’t respond to aggressiveness. If I were anyone else, she’d have probably sliced my throat and ended this conversation.

  “Elira,” I said, softer now. “I’m asking as your sister, please tell me what Jet’s up to. Why are you keeping secrets from me?”

  She looked away, out toward the blinding sea, and for a moment I saw guilt—or was it regret?—tug at the corner of her mouth.

  “Jet has a plan, and nothing will stop him from getting what he wants,” she said quietly.

  “What does he want?” I demanded.

  “Don’t know and don’t care.”

  I let out an exasperated breath.

  “You do know.” Her lips thinned, refusing to divulge whatever truth she was hiding for our brother. “Is it Anya?”

  She shrugged. “You know Jet. He keeps his cards close to his chest.”

  Disappointment and hurt washed over me.

  “You used me.” My voice cracked. “You made a fool out of me. And Anya… She’s my friend. How could you, Elira?”

  “I didn’t do anything,” she claimed stubbornly. “And I didn’t say it has anything to do with Anya.”

  I stepped closer, chest tight as she let out a heavy sigh.

  “But you know who she is.” I smiled coldly. “Technically, you shouldn’t.”

  “She was your roommate in the dorm,” Elira snapped, suddenly sharp. “I make it a point to know who you surround yourself with, sister.”

  My back stiffened. “What about Jet, then?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. I have no idea how they met.”

  I stared at her, the words ringing in my ears. My heart pounded against the cage of my ribs.

  “But they met,” I whispered.

  “Apparently so,” Elira deadpanned.

  This makes no sense. Why had Anya lied when I asked her point-blank on the phone?

  “I don’t know any specifics,” she added.

  “You need to tell me his plan and what he wants with Anya,” Gabriel said, stepping between us. “And I need the truth, Elira. Both Amara and I do.”

  Elira held our gazes.

  “I don’t know,” she said, sighing. “I’ve never seen Jet go to such lengths for anything or anyone. He just asked me to help him.”

  “With what?” I demanded.

  “He told me where we needed to go in the jungle and instructed me to drop that stupid bag and encrypted device in there,” she muttered. “I got to the location before you and dropped the bag off. It was part of the plan.”

  “And the coordinates?” I rasped. “Why Albania?”

  Gabriel stiffened next to me, answering, “Because that’s where Anya is.”

  “Yes, the coordinates are to the house she’s renting next to Kian’s,” Elira answered, and betrayal flooded me.

  It burned on the way down, but I didn’t let myself get distracted.

  I couldn’t dwell on that.

  Now it was time we closed in on Jet and got to Anya before he did.

  Kian

  It had been a week since I received the frantic call from Liana Volkov, the woman whose life I had saved decades ago and who had saved my granddaughter’s life in return. The web of our life choices had forever connected us, and I hadn’t regretted it for a single minute.

  I picked up my phone, waited until the secure line blinked green, and then hit dial.

  City lights flickered in Vlorë—my default home for years—the streets still glistening from the storm that had rolled through earlier.

  I checked the time on my watch. It wasn’t terribly late in Boston, although I knew she’d be awake even if it was.

  Liana picked up on the first ring.

  “It’s bad, isn’t it?” she said, her statement laced with dread.

  I let the silence stretch just long enough to confirm it.

  “Well, they’re in Europe, just not where we expected them to be.”

  A pause.

  “Why am I not surprised?” Her voice was soft and controlled. Liana Volkov had learned the hard way to keep her composure.

  “Elira and Amara purchased a yacht.”

  “Ah, yes,” she grumbled. “They told me that.”

  “Well, they took it to Colombia. And at this very moment, they’re approaching my shores.”

  Another beat of silence. “Vlorë? That’s… unexpected.”

  “It sure is, especially since neither one of them has given me a heads-up on the visit. However, they’ve done weirder things before.”

  “At least the three of them are together,” she muttered.

  “Well, there are three on that boat, plus the crew.” I paused, wondering how to break this to her. “But it isn’t the three you’re thinking of.”

  “I’m not following.”

  “Elira and Amara kidnapped Gabriel Santos.” I sighed and leaned forward, propping an elbow on my knee.

  “He must have deserved it,” Liana rushed to say.

  “Maybe so, but I came to an agreement with Raphael Santos long ago that their family would be protected on my territory. Anya, I shall remind you, is his daughter.”

  “Do whatever you need to sort this out, but if Gabriel hurts either one of them, kill him.”

  I let out a sardonic breath. “He isn’t that kind of man, Liana.”

  “And where’s Jet?” she questioned, her breath hitching.

  The alarm in her voice was unmistakable.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. “If you didn’t like that, you’re going to like what I’m about to tell you even less.”

  “You’re scaring me. Please don’t tell me he’s d⁠—”

  “No, no. Jet’s not dead, but when Raphael Santos or Gabriel get their hands on him, he might be.”

  I could practically hear her gulp over the line. “I don’t follow. What are you saying?”

  Standing up, I turned away from the window and pressed my palm to the back of my neck.

  “I’m saying that Jet decided he’s in love…” I said slowly. “With Anya Santos.”

  She cursed—once, low and vicious.

  “Are you sure? How do you even know this?”

  “I called him and he told me.”

  “What? He’s not answering my calls,” she said, and I heard her start to pace. “You told him to cut it out, right?”

  I laughed, although there was no humor in it. “I sure did. And I told him if he sets foot in Albania, I’m going to wring his neck.”

  “What… what did he say?”

  “Just that Anya is his and he intends to make it legal.”

  “Oh my God,” she rasped. “You have to stop him, Kian. What the hell is he thinking?”

  I looked out at the city again. “I put extra guards on Anya and have additional eyes on her property. I’ll get eyes on Jet.”

  “I should come out there.”

  “No, it’s best you stay where you are,” I protested. “I’ll figure out where he is and let you know. And I’ll deal with my guests and their prisoner.”

  “This is my fault,” she muttered.

  “No,” I said. “It’s ours. We told him to find a girl, get married, and ensure a legacy so he can take over the empire. It would seem he took it literally. Who could have envisioned it going this way?”

  She didn’t respond at first. But when she did, it was with the steel she was known for.

  “If Jet gets Anya, we need to make them disappear and pray those two have… a connection.”

  “I prefer to stay out of gossip, but I think Anya might already have a boyfriend. Do you know who he is?”

  “How in the hell would I?” she hissed. “I don’t even read People magazine. Jesus Christ, when I get ahold of my son…” I could practically envision Liana pulling her hair out. “My only comfort is that I know Jet would never endanger a girl, regardless of his intentions with her.”

  For all of our sakes, I hoped she was right.

  “I hate to admit it, Liana, but these kids turned out just like us,” I grumbled.

  She scoffed. “I wouldn’t tut that too loud, Kian.”

  The line went dead with a soft click, leaving the house in a hush so profound it felt like the walls themselves were holding their breath.

  I was leaving the office and headed to the back of the house where my bedroom suite was when my phone buzzed again.

  My brows knitted at the name on the screen.

  The newest head of the Triad—that had taken over after Enzo Marchetti executed the last one—had just entered Albania with his men. He didn’t sneak in but crossed the border legally. As in, they wanted their presence known. I wasn’t about to jump to conclusions, but I didn’t like the timing.

  My fingers flew across the screen as I typed a message to my right-hand man to look into the purpose of the visit. Once upon a time, I handled it all myself, but now that I had a wife and more of a life, I’d learned to delegate.

  After sending the message, I slipped the phone into my pocket and continued toward the bedroom, drawn by the golden glow spilling into the hallway.

  Inside, my wife waited for me, half covered by the sheet, her body curled into the softness of the mattress. Her hair fanned across the pillow in wild, dark spirals. She turned her head lazily when she heard me, one leg bending and drawing the sheet just low enough to reveal the smooth line of her thigh.

  She made a small sound, almost a pout, as she shifted onto her back. The sheet slid farther down her body, revealing the bare slope of her hip.

  “I might have to be away for a day or two,” I said.

  “Mmm,” she murmured. “What am I going to do without you? None of my vibrators do the trick anymore.”

  Her tone was playful, but there was a quiet ache threaded through it.

  I moved to the edge of the bed and climbed in beside her, pulling her close.

  I kissed her shoulder, slow and unhurried, then the curve of her neck, then the line of her collarbone. I tasted her skin—warm, lightly salted from sleep, faintly scented with the lavender oil she loved.

  “I’ll call,” I murmured, lips grazing her jaw. “Lots of video calls.”

  Her fingers slid into my hair, nails lightly grazing my scalp as she drew me closer.

  “You know it’s not the same,” she whispered, breath catching as I traced a line of kisses down to the hollow of her throat. “Not even close.”

  “I know,” I said between kisses. “So I’ll give you something to remember. Open your legs for me, wife. You’re going to use me as your personal vibrator.”

  Amara

  Igave Gabriel his phone back to tell his family he was okay and to let him handle some business. Strangely, I trusted him, and I felt like he was on my side as well as his family’s. I wasn’t sure if that made me gullible, cock-whipped (was that even a thing?), or plain stupid.

  Either way, I had decided to go with my gut and trust him.

  My siblings, on the other hand, had started to lose my trust, and I hated the distance that Elira’s admission and Jet’s actions had created. The conversation with Elira where she deflated any culpability to whatever she and Jet were up to played in my mind, biting at me.

  I gave a nod to Gabriel, and mouthed, “I’ll be right back,” then went in search of Elira.

  I found her in the office, pacing around, agitated, tension in her shoulders. I entered the room, letting the door shut with a soft click behind me.

  She stopped her pacing and whirled around.

  “Amara, what⁠—”

  “I think it’s time you and I talk,” I said seriously, locking eyes with her. “And no more bullshit.”

  “I haven’t bullshitted,” she spat defensively.

  “But you hid the truth from me, didn’t you?” Her nose twitched in that familiar way when she didn’t want to answer a question. “Didn’t you?”

  “Listen, I think it’s best if you clear the air with Jet.”

  “I would if I could get in touch with him,” I snapped. “But since you’re helping him with whatever the fuck he has planned, you can enlighten me too.”

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

  I blinked.

  “You can’t?” I stated slowly, the pitch of my voice increasing with each syllable. “You can lie to me, deceive me, have me kidnap Gabriel, and start a war, but you cannot tell me the truth?”

  By the time the last word left my lips, I was screaming. I couldn’t recall a single time in my life where I lost my cool and saw red, but it was happening now, and with the person I would least expect it with. This felt like the worst kind of betrayal, and it hurt like hell.

  She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Listen, I don’t want to argue.”

  I scoffed.

  “You don’t want to argue, but you don’t want to right the problem you and Jet created either.” My chest constricted with pain at their deceit. “And you certainly didn’t mind manipulating me or using me. Neither you nor Jet bothered to be concerned with me or my feelings.”

  My eyes stung with tears that refused to fall and frustration that threatened to smother me. Getting nowhere with her and knowing that I wouldn’t get the truth from her, I whirled around and left.

  Amara

  Tonight we’d set foot on Albanian soil, four weeks after setting sail from Buenaventura.

  Gabriel had been attempting to call Anya for the past twenty-four hours, without any success.

  We sat across from each other at the breakfast table, the morning light filtering through the half-closed blinds and casting thin stripes across his face. Elira hovered nearby but kept her distance, her eyes darting nervously between us, avoiding any direct contact.

  Her betrayal and the discovery over the past twenty-four hours of her conspiring with Jet was hard to swallow, although her loyalty to our brother should hardly be surprising. It didn’t hurt any less though.

  She finally spoke up, her voice hesitant. “He tried to reason with you at Revelation, remember?”

  My brows knitted. “With me?”

  She shook her head. “No, with Gabriel.”

  I repeated her words twice before realization dawned. My mouth gaped in shock. It was Gabriel who’d met Jet that night by the emergency exit in the club. Dammit, why hadn’t I recognized him? That explained why I’d run into him by the stairwell not long after Jet had disappeared into the night.

  “Jet wanted to make a deal, using my affection for Amara in exchange for Anya,” Gabriel gritted. “I don’t do that kind of shit. I would never force anything on either my sister or Amara.”

  “Well, it wouldn’t have come to this if you’d have at least considered it,” Elira snapped.

  “Do you hear yourself, Elira?” I hissed. “How can you possibly excuse Jet in all this? All this time you’ve claimed to be protecting me, keeping men you deem dangerous away, and now I’m learning you were both okay with using me as a bargaining chip?”

  She sighed. “I’m not making excuses.”

  Gabriel’s jaw was tight, his fingers wrapped around a chipped ceramic mug, untouched coffee gone cold.

  Ignoring my sister, he dialed Anya again. Beep. Beep. Beep.

  There was no answer, and the silence that stretched between us was thick, layered with tension. Next, he tried the guards that Raphael Santos placed at the house she was staying at. Still nothing.

  The engine thrummed beneath us, a steady reminder that we were moving toward something—maybe resolution, maybe disaster.

  “She always answers,” he said, mostly to himself.

  “She could be busy,” I offered, though I didn’t believe it. If Anya had seen Gabriel’s name flashing on her screen, she would’ve answered. Something was wrong.

  “What could she be busy with? She’s in Albania doing photography, not performing surgeries.” He looked up at me, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Jet might have⁠—”

  “He would never hurt her,” Elira cut in, glaring at him.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I agree, that’s not Jet.”

  “He’s hurt you,” Gabriel reasoned. “Lied to you and manipulated you. You want me to believe that he doesn’t hurt people?”

  I nodded slowly. “He was wrong in all those instances, but I can assure you he would never physically hurt her.”

  “How comforting, thanks,” Gabriel sneered.

  “The captain says we’ll dock after sunset. He knows a smaller harbor outside the main port. Quiet. We’ll manage to stay somewhat under the radar there.”

  Gabriel glanced at her. “Is that another one of Jet’s arrangements?”

  Elira didn’t flinch. “No, although I’m sure if he had any input, it would have been because it’s the safest way to get into Albania undetected.”

  Gabriel scoffed. “Clearly you underestimate Kian Cortes, which is, frankly, clearly stupid on your part.”

  I stood up, crossing to the window, and watched as Vlorë’s lights began to appear in the distance—rugged, green, and cloaked in shadows.

  This was Kian’s safe haven, and we were about to bring havoc to it. If he learned about it, he was sure to be pissed off.