Blood and Vows

The cost of power is always paid in blood

Adrian...

The scent of gunpowder still clung to my clothes. The night air was thick with the residue of smoke and death, but I barely noticed. My mind was elsewhere. On her. On the traitor still among us. On the fact that tonight, I was the one who got played.

Celeste sat across from me in the back of the car, her face partially illuminated by the city lights passing by. A fine cut ran along her cheekbone, her lip was slightly swollen, but her eyes? Sharp. Calculating. Alive.

She didn't look afraid. She never did. And that was becoming a problem.

Lorenzo cleared his throat from the driver's seat. "Warehouse is compromised. We lost four men. No trace of the shooter."

I clenched my jaw. Another loose end. Another fucking mess.

Dante, who was seated next to Lorenzo, shifted slightly. "We need to assume someone inside is still feeding them intel."

I already knew that. The thought had been haunting me since the moment Marco hit the floor. Whoever was pulling the strings was still ahead of me. And I don't like being second place in my own goddamn empire.

I turned my attention back to Celeste, who was watching me just as carefully. "What?"

She didn't blink. "Nothing. Just wondering what goes on inside your head when you're brooding like this."

I smirked, despite the burning frustration crawling under my skin. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Celeste held my gaze, and for a second, it felt like the entire world had fallen away. Like there was nothing but the two of us, locked in this dangerous, unspoken war of control.

But then she broke the spell with a smirk of her own. "Actually, no. I think I like the mystery."

Lorenzo snorted under his breath, and Dante let out an amused scoff. I ignored them both.

The car pulled into the estate's private lot, and before it had fully stopped, I was already out, my movements sharp, controlled. I needed answers. Now.

"Dante, get eyes on every man inside my network. I don't care how deep you have to dig, find me the fucking mole."

Dante nodded and disappeared into the estate.

Lorenzo shoved his hands into his pockets. "What about her?" He gestured to Celeste. "You keeping her around, or is this where you cut your losses?"

Celeste arched a brow, unfazed. She was waiting to see what I'd say.

I looked at her, at the defiance in her stance, the silent challenge in her gaze. She had risked her life tonight—for me, for this mission, for something neither of us wanted to put into words yet.

I took a slow step toward her, my voice dropping. "Tell me, Ogonëk, do you want to leave?"

Her lips parted slightly, but she recovered quickly. "If I wanted to, I would have already."

The air between us tightened. I was playing with fire, and she was the kind of flame that didn't burn out—it consumed.

Lorenzo muttered something under his breath and walked off, giving us space.

I reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, my fingers lingering longer than necessary. "Then stay. But don't forget—people who get too close to me tend to get burned."

Her breath hitched, but she smirked. "Maybe I like the heat."

I was going to ruin her. Or she was going to ruin me.

Either way, one of us wouldn't make it out of this unscathed.