Chapter 12
The war never stopped, instead It just shifted shapes, moved through shadows and whispers. Lucien sat across from me in the war room, his broad shoulders leaned forward, arms braced on the old stone table. The low lights cast his features in sharp lines, eyes cold and calculating.
"The Demons aren’t done," he explained. "The last attack wasn’t just a feeding frenzy. They took one of our transport captains and didn’t kill him, they wanted him alive."
I stared at the table, fingers drumming in a slow, measured rhythm. "They’re looking for leverage."
Lucien nodded. "And they know we’ve changed our tactics. We’re not just killing them, we’re hunting them down, so they’re trying to destabilize our control."
I leaned back in my chair, jaw tight. "They’re adapting. Which means they’ve got someone smarter than usual calling the shots. I don’t think it’s just Malakai. Someone is in the shadows, maybe one of the old Demons."
Lucien's gaze sharpened. "If they’re coordinating with that level of precision, it means they’re planning something much bigger than attacking warehouses. The captains run the routes, know the locations of safehouses and personnel movements. If the demons break him…"
"They won’t," I growled. "He’s trained and loyal. But even the best have limits. Therefore, we need to find him soon."
Lucien folded his arms. "Already started tracking the signature we picked up near the extraction site. It’s faint, but if they moved him by ground, we’ll find the trail."
"Double the shadows on our sensitive sites. I want every outpost reinforced before daylight."
He nodded once. "Consider it done. "
The silence between us thickened, the kind that came when there was more to say but no good way to say it.
"And what about the Irish?"
Lucien's lip curled. "We’ve had two separate sightings of their men talking to our arms contact in Prague. If they’re trying to backdoor our supplier…"
I grunt in annoyance. "Have we sent anyone to intercept?"
Lucien gave me a sharp look. "Volken has two shadows on the Irish, and we’re tracing Nolan’s movements. If he makes a single handoff, we’ll shut him down. Permanently."
"They won’t get far," I said darkly. "But keep eyes on them. If they even breathe near our ports again, I want to know."
Lucien nodded. "Understood."
The room stilled again, tension crawling over the walls like shadows before the storm.
I leaned back in my chair, but my mind stayed wired. "And Rosemary? "
His lips thinned. "Still no concrete signs, but the aura around her isn’t clean. Something clings to her, but I didn’t want to get too close. I’ll dig deeper, see if there’s been any demonic contact. If there has, I’ll find it."
My fists clenched involuntarily. "I want answers, Lucien. Fast." Before he could respond, my phone buzzed.
Draugr. I answered. "Talk."
"High demon activity near one of our clubs. Havoc, there are too many for it to be a coincidence."
Lucien was already standing. "I’ll take six men with me. We will hit hard and sweep the area to make sure we catch the sons of bitches."
“You hear that Draugr” I ask
“I’ll wait for him here.” Draugr replies before disconnecting. I nodded, and Lucien disappeared without another word.
The silence that followed was a vacuum, and I hated the stillness. I got up and went to find Layla. She was in the sitting room, curled on one of the velvet chairs, staring out the tall window. The soft moonlight haloed around her, but her face was distant .
I watched her for a moment, letting the tension ease slightly. She grounded me.
"What’s going through that mind of yours, my angel?"
She turned, smiled faintly. "Just... I don’t know. I feel restless, like I’m just here. Not doing anything, not helping or being productive. I don’t want to be some pretty thing locked in a tower."
That struck something in me. Trying to protect her, has left her alone and aimless. I don’t want her to lose herself or be bored. Her honesty, her strength are things about her that I value. Things that should be nourished and cultivated to ensure that she feels useful.
"Go get dressed," I said. "We’re going out."
Her eyes lit with curiosity, but she didn’t ask any questions as she got up and quickly vanished up the stairs. I pulled my phone out and dialled my assistant. "Layla needs a laptop. Have it delivered to the house within the hour. And make sure it’s top spec."
"Yes, sir."
I ended the call and paced the room. What did she like? What would make her feel like she had purpose? Would it be a business? Maybe design? Tech? I’d find out, and I’d build her an empire if that’s what she wanted.
The sound of heels on marble pulled me from my thoughts. Looking up, I see her descending the stairs in one of the dresses I’d chosen, a deep emerald silk that hugged her like it was made for her. My breath caught.
The dress clung to every curve, the plunging neckline giving a glimpse of the soft valley between her breasts, and the high slit running up one thigh revealed just enough to make my fists clench with restraint.
Her dark hair was loosely curled, cascading down her back and brushing her shoulders like a silken curtain.
She’d pinned one side back with a delicate clip, revealing the elegant line of her neck, the very place I’d marked her.
Her makeup was light, but it didn’t need to be heavy.
A touch of smoky eyeshadow made her green eyes glow like emerald fire, and her lips were glossed in a soft rose that made them look biteable.
She looked like temptation itself, and every possessive instinct in me snapped to life. Pride at the way she carried herself. Hunger and the never-ending passion that I have for her. A deep need that was never appeased. She wasn’t just beautiful, she was fucking mine.
My voice was low, thick. "You wear that dress like sin, a decadent morsel. You have no idea what you do to me."
She tilted her head, a small smile playing at her lips, and it was that mix of innocence and confidence that drove me mad. "I might have a little idea," she teased softly.
I growled under my breath, adjusting the cuffs of my shirt to keep from walking straight up those stairs and dragging her back into our bed. "You're going to have me hard the rest of the night. You know that, right?"
She stepped off the last stair and into my arms without hesitation. "Good," she whispered. "Maybe I’ll make it worse."
I kissed her temple, inhaling the scent of her perfume, vanilla, spice, and her. "You’re dangerous, Layla. But don’t forget who you belong to. Now let’s show this city what it means to belong to a king."
We drove to one of my clubs, Havoc. I want to ensure that my men have neutralized all the demons in the area, and what better way to do that then being there.
The club is sleeker than Nightshade, more exclusive.
The crowd was high-profile. You found athletes, actors, dangerous men with clean suits and bloodied pasts.
It was a front, but also a statement. Power here dressed in velvet and liquor.
Layla stayed close, my hand never leaving her lower back. Inside, music pulsed with a darker rhythm, the kind that made the walls breathe. Lights low, shadows thick. This was where deals were made.
I led her to the private upper lounge. She stood by the glass wall, staring down at the floor below. Her eyes were wide, curious, taking it all in. I stood behind her, sliding my arms around her waist pulling her tight against my chest.
"This one’s mine too," I said beside her ear. "We use it to move intel and keep tabs on allies and enemies."
She looked up at me, a smirk playing at her lips. "You’re showing me your empire."
"Only the parts I’ll let you run." Her eyes sparkled, and for the first time in hours, the weight in my chest lifted.
She blinked, clearly surprised. "Wait…what do you mean by that? "
I turned her to face me fully, one hand resting against her lower back.
"I’ve been thinking about renovating Havoc.
It’s due. The space is powerful, but it needs a softer edge.
Something alluring without being obvious.
Something seductive like you, but elegant.
And you…" I trailed a finger down her arm, watching the way her breath hitched.
"You have an eye for beauty, baby. I thought maybe you’d want to get involved in the design. Help me shape the new look."
Her lips parted slightly. "You’d let me help with that?"
"Not let," I corrected. "Ask. You’d be involved in something that matters to me. To us. This world you’ve stepped into. You’re not a guest here my angel. You’re part of it now, and this club, it’s a good start."
Her expression softened, eyes searching mine for any hint of a joke. When she didn’t find one, she smiled, something proud and pleased blooming on her face. "Okay," she said softly. "I’d like that."
And just like that, the club wasn’t the only thing being rebuilt. Bit by bit, I was giving her a place in my world, and she was claiming it with grace and quiet fire. She wasn’t just mine to protect, she was mine to empower.
And she was going to burn just as brightly as any of us.
The sound of shouting from the far side of the club shattered the moment. My head snapped toward the source, instincts kicking into overdrive. A crowd had formed near the VIP lounge, voices rising, a sudden flash of movement breaking through the bass-heavy music.
Layla tensed beside me, but I was already in motion. "Stay here," I growled, stalking forward.
Two of my guards tried to hold back the commotion, but it wasn’t until I stepped into view that silence fell.
A man had his hand on a waitress’s waist, too tight, too familiar.
She was clearly trying to pull away. I was on him in seconds, I would not accept any man mishandling a woman in my presence.