I leave the window open on purpose, so the Don of the Castellano family hears every sound I make with another man all night long. By sunrise, Damien appears at my door with a face like a thunderstorm, jaw locked, eyes black. "Got room for one more?" he asks, voice low and dangerous. I just lounge between two pretty boys, one arm draped over each, and give him a flat, dead look. "Thought you only had eyes for your precious college girl now." His eyes go bloodshot red—but he doesn't take a single step closer. Because I'm the woman who bled beside him for ten years, who helped him carve Harbor City out of other men's hands. And he'd rather marry some college girl in a sundress than keep the promise he made to me. His soldiers can't wrap their heads around it. They actually speak up. "Boss Nova fought for every block you own. She's the sharpest blade you've got. You used to be obsessed with her—what the hell changed?" Damien grinds his cigarette out and twists the silver band on his finger—the matching one Lily wears. "Nova Quinn? A woman with blood up to her elbows? Every time I think about touching her, my skin crawls. How could she ever compare to my girl?" "But Boss—Nova's smart. If she finds out and breaks with you—" Damien scoffs, cold as ice. "All of Harbor City already belongs to me. What's one woman? You think my territory's gonna grow legs and walk off?" He has no idea I'm standing right outside the door. Every word. I drop the bruise balm I brought for him into the trash and pull out my phone. I text Kieran Vance—Damien's worst enemy in the city. [Damien Castellano's territory. His life. You want them? They're yours.] ... I'm down at the dock arranging a speedboat off the island when Damien finds me. "Big shipment coming in two nights from now. You handle the pickup yourself. And clear out your beach house—I need it." He gives the order like I'm one of his men. "The house is for her, right?" His brow knits. "Don't start. I'm not going public with us because the situation's unstable—Kieran's watching every move. I can't let the boys get sloppy over one woman." "Right now, your job is getting Kieran off my back." That's how he's always handled me. Gaslight, frame it as protection, send me back to bleed for him. For years I bought it. I broke my body for him, twice as hard. Now it just sounds like a punchline. I slide the boat requisition slip across to him. "I'm not pissed. I'm used to it." Something flickers in his eyes. Annoyance. He signs so hard the pen tears the paper. "Nova—what's with the attitude? It's a damn house. Everything on this island is mine. You're mine. I don't need permission." He throws the slip back in my face. "And stop bothering me with errand-runs off the island. I'm busy." He thinks I want a shopping trip. I don't correct him. I nod, push through the door, and head for the dock. Looking at that speedboat with my name on it, I actually smile. Ten years. Ten years I helped him build an empire out of broken bones. We were childhood friends. Brothers in arms. Lovers, too—the kind that would die for each other. Now I finally see it. That was just a story I told myself. A lie he wove out of my own devotion. He's marrying someone else. That night, a small army of mercenaries escorts Lily Monroe onto the island. White dress, soft curls, wide doe eyes—and a smug little smile she can't quite hide. "Nova," she chirps, "you've worked SO hard for Damien all these years. So loyal." "I'll make him give you a promotion. And I'll send you some pretty boys—a woman your age can't keep waiting forever, right?" "Not like Damien. He couldn't wait one more day. Tomorrow we're married. Can you believe it?" My fingers curl around the grip of the pistol on my hip. It takes every ounce of training I have not to put a bullet through her teeth. "Move," I say, cold, and step around her. But she grabs my arm. From her purse she pulls out a leather journal, eyes glittering. "These are the love letters Damien wrote to me all these years, when he missed me. The book's too heavy to carry around—Could you toss it for me?" She glides off, skirt swaying. I stand at the cliff's edge, salt wind cutting my face, and open the journal with shaking hands. April 12, last year. The night I shielded him from an ambush, blood pouring out of his side. He'd written: Lily, if I make it out alive, I'll marry you. August 5, two years back. The night Kieran's sniper put a round near him on a trip, and I walked into enemy territory alone, two blades in my hands, to drag him out. He'd written: Baby, today the air smelled like you. January 24. The night he got picked up by the cops and I took the charge for him. He'd written: If it were you in that cell, I'd never let you suffer like this. Every line carves a piece out of me. How many times did I beg him to marry me? He'd kiss my forehead: Nova. Wait for me. "I have too many enemies. I have to clear the path first. When I own all of Harbor City—then I'll marry you. Okay?" I waited. Year after year. My phone buzzes. Kieran's reply. Two words. [Deal. Done.] I tap the screen, and one more question slips out of me before I can stop it: [August 5. The hit on Damien. That was you, right?] His reply is instant. [Swear to God, that wasn't me. I was framed.] [You chased me down nine blocks with two machetes over something I didn't even DO.] I laugh. Out loud. At the dark water. So I was a punchline to both of them. A clown with blood on her hands, playing knight for a man who never even loved me. Fine. There's nothing left for me here.
Nova's POV I work out the rest of the pickup details with Kieran and head back toward the compound. That's when I hear Damien talking to his men by the yacht. "Boss, the bride's gown came in. We picked it up at that royal auction, just like you wanted—a billion-dollar dress." "But… we're worried about Nova. If she blows up, exposes the compound, Kieran could wipe us out in one strike—" Damien doesn't even hesitate. "I love Lily. She's the only woman I will ever marry. Tomorrow's wedding goes off without a single scratch. No mistakes." "Not even from Nova. I'll keep her quiet." "And keep your boys' mouths shut. Anyone leaks a word, I feed them to the sharks." I made my peace with leaving. I really did. But hearing the man who once swore he'd die for me reduce me to a problem to manage—it still cuts. The pain sits in my chest like broken glass. Back in my room, I start packing. Passports. IDs. Papers. Cash. I look around. Knives. Pistols. A shotgun under the bed. Ammo cases stacked like books. That's when it hits me: Damien never gave me anything. Not really. Just weapons. To protect him. Once I asked him for a dress. A necklace. Something soft. He laughed. "Nova, even in a dress and jewels, you don't look like a woman. Don't waste them." But Lily Monroe rolled onto this island with a whole truck of designer dresses and diamonds. So why her, and not me? I dig through the back of my closet. There it is—the red dress I bought years ago and never had the guts to wear. I slip it on. Heels. Lipstick. The works. Right then, Lily kicks the door open like she owns the place. "Nova, you read the journal, right? Damien's truest feelings are—" She stops mid-sentence. Eyes round. Mouth open. Then her face twists. "I figured at least you had some pride. That you'd slink off quietly once you knew Damien doesn't love you." "But you actually think you can seduce him back? You shameless bitch—I'll claw your face off!" She lunges. She's got zero training, so I could slap her across the mouth easily before she even lands a hand on me. "Nova! You DARE hit me?! Damien's going to make you regret this!" she shrieks. I cross my arms and watch her stumble. "Thanks for the compliment, princess. I clean up better than you. That's the problem." A second later, she drops to her knees and starts slapping her own face. "Nova—please—I'm trash, I shouldn't have crawled into Damien's life—just don't ruin the wedding, beat me to death if you want—" I haven't even processed what just happened when a boot comes flying at my ribs. "Nova! Are my words a joke to you?! You're laying hands on Lily now?!" Damien. If that kick lands, I don't get up again. So tell me—what am I to him? A guard dog? A punching bag he gets to swing at once she's done her job? I twist out of the way, but the heel catches and my ankle rolls. Pain shoots up my leg. I bite it back and look him dead in the eye. He scoops Lily up, his gaze ice-cold on me— Then he sees the red dress. Sees my face. His pupils blow wide. For half a second, he forgets to breathe. His voice still comes out frozen. "Nova. Dressed up or not, you'll never come close to her." Lily clings to his arm, sniffling. "Damien, she forced me to talk, that's why I gave her the journal—I'm so sorry—" He pulls her against his chest like she's made of glass. "It's nothing. No one's mad at you, baby." I laugh under my breath. Bitter. One minute ago he was telling his men they'd swim with sharks if they leaked a word. Now that Lily blabbed it straight to my face, it's nothing. She gets to break every rule. He calls it cute. What does that make me? Just stupid? "So you're really marrying her." My voice doesn't shake. I make sure. I need to hear how he explains this. To me. Part of me—the part still clinging—thinks he'll flinch. Look guilty. Beg me to let them go. Instead, his brow just twitches. "Yes. Tomorrow. You can come if you want. But you don't make a scene, Nova. Don't make me put hands on you." That's it. The last sliver of hope I had—gone. I lock my jaw against the tears and shove the word out of my throat. "Out." But Lily isn't done. "Damien… I don't know many people here. I was hoping Nova could be one of my bridesmaids… but I'd hate to offend her—" He melts at the way she asks for it. Turns to me. "Nova, being her bridesmaid is nothing. You won't make a fuss about that, right?" Something snaps. I grab a steel rod from the corner and start swinging. "GET OUT." I drive them through the door. Slam it. Slide down against the wood, breath ragged. A single tear cuts down my cheek before I can stop it. Then my phone lights up. A message from Kieran Vance. [Red looks good on you. Beautiful.] [Take the heels off. Ice that ankle.]
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