Chapter 1

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.