Keiran
T HE MOMENT THE SECURITY alarm had gone off in his penthouse, had known it was the Castellos.
Three men in the lobby.
Two more circling the building.
Professionals, but sloppy enough to trigger the silent alarm he'd installed after Cadence left.
Instead of retreating to safety, had headed straight for the garage. He knew exactly where to intercept them. Harbour Locke was his territory, and he'd mapped out every possible hiding place an enemy might use—the abandoned shipping warehouse on the waterfront being the most obvious choice for outsiders who didn't know the area.
He'd had it wired and monitored for precisely this scenario.
By the time parked two blocks away and approached on foot, night had fallen. The warehouse loomed against the skyline, and through his phone, he watched the thermal signatures of the Castellos moving inside—exactly where he'd expected them to regroup after their failed attempt at his penthouse.
He entered through a service door, the security system recognizing and admitting him silently. They thought they were choosing the battleground, but they'd walked into his trap instead.
"We know you're here, de Laigny," Benny's voice echoed through the cavernous space. "Your men failed to stop us at your apartment. What makes you think you're any safer here?"
didn't bother answering. Instead, he moved deeper into the warehouse, past stacked shipping containers and rusted machinery. The arrogance of these men, thinking they had the upper hand in his own territory.
Three years ago, he wouldn't have walked into such an obvious trap alone. But three years ago, he'd had something to live for. Something to protect. Now she was gone, safe under Marchetti's protection—a fact that burned him more than he cared to admit.
Four men emerged from the shadows, guns trained on him. assessed them with a practiced eye. Young. Nervous. Expendable. Behind them stood Benny, flanked by his older brother Berto.
"You have balls, I'll give you that," Berto said, his voice raspier than remembered. "Coming here alone."
"Who says I'm alone?" replied, his voice cold.
Benny laughed. "Your bluff is almost as pathetic as your attempt to protect those Quinns. You should've let us have them. They're nothing to you."
"They're family."
The lie tasted bitter on his tongue, but it served its purpose. The Castellos believed he'd claimed the Quinns out of obligation. Let them.
"Family?" Berto scoffed. "They treated you like garbage when you were nobody. Now that you're somebody, you protect them? You're softer than I thought."
"Or maybe I'm exactly who you fear I am."
's hand moved to his pocket, retrieving not a weapon—as the Castellos' men clearly expected from the way they tensed—but a phone. He tapped it once, and the warehouse filled with red laser dots, blossoming across the Castellos' chests like deadly flowers.
"What the—"
Benny's face drained of color as he realized how completely he'd miscalculated.
"You should've known better, Benny," said, his voice terrifyingly quiet. "This is my territory. And people only walk out of my territory alive...if I say so."
"This is a mistake," Berto stammered, his earlier arrogance vanishing. "We can negotiate—"
"Can we?" A new voice cut through the tension, smooth as silk and cold as ice.
The Castellos froze. Their men exchanged terrified glances.
From the shadowed catwalk above, a figure emerged—tall, lethally elegant, emanating an aura of controlled violence that made even 's presence seem mild by comparison.
"Impossible," Berto whispered, genuine fear crossing his face for the first time.
Benny simply stared, speechless.
"Le Dauphin Tueur," one of their men whispered, his gun trembling visibly now.
The Prince of Killers descended the metal stairs with unhurried grace, each footstep echoing like a death knell. Unlike the Castellos with their flashy suits and gaudy jewelry, he wore simple black, the quality apparent only to those who knew what to look for. His presence, however, needed no adornment.
"I wasn't aware the Castellos had business in Connecticut," the Dauphin said, his accent a subtle reminder of European origins. "Especially not with my associate."
gave no sign of surprise at the Dauphin's appearance. They had never worked together directly before, but their interests had aligned on occasion. This, apparently, was one of those occasions.
"Your associate?" Benny found his voice, though it cracked on the second word.
"Did you think de Laigny operates independently?" The Dauphin's smile didn't reach his eyes. "How... provincial."
observed the silent terror spreading across the Castellos' faces. The Dauphin's reputation preceded him—not just as a killer, but as something else entirely. An enforcer of boundaries. A shadow that fell across those who disrupted the delicate balance of power.
"We didn't know," Berto said, his face ashen. "We wouldn't have—"
"You wouldn't have what?" The Dauphin circled them slowly. "Wouldn't have come uninvited into territory under my protection? Wouldn't have threatened a family under de Laigny's protection? Wouldn't have been so incredibly stupid?"
stepped forward. "The Quinns are not worth bloodshed." He glanced at the Dauphin, a silent communication passing between them. "But the Castellos' attempt to breach my home cannot go unanswered."
"Agreed." The Dauphin turned his attention back to the Castellos. "Sicily. Permanent retirement. Your legitimate businesses remain yours, but you relinquish all operations on the East Coast."
It wasn't a negotiation. It was a verdict.
Berto understood this immediately. "We'll need assurances—"
"The only assurance you need," the Dauphin cut in, "is that you'll leave this building with your lives. Whether that remains true tomorrow depends entirely on how quickly you disappear."
Benny opened his mouth to protest, but Berto gripped his arm hard enough to bruise.
"We accept your terms," Berto said, the words leaving him like a surrender.
The Dauphin gestured to one of the corners. A man—whom hadn't even noticed was there—emerged with a briefcase, opening it to reveal documents already prepared.
"Sign," the Dauphin ordered.
The Castellos' hands shook as they signed away their empire.
When the warehouse emptied, leaving only and the Dauphin, the tension in the air shifted from deadly to merely dangerous.
"I didn't request your intervention," said, straightening his cuffs. "But I appreciate it nonetheless."
The Dauphin's expression softened fractionally. "Consider it a favor to Jacques. He speaks highly of you."
Jacques—the Dauphin's cousin. had worked with him once, years ago. "How is he?"
"Happily married. Expecting a child." A shadow crossed the Dauphin's face. "But that's not why I'm here."
"I assumed as much."
"Viktor Biancardi's sister. You married her."
What the hell?
"Let me guess," said unsmilingly. "You owe a blood debt as well."
The Prince of Killers inclined his head. "It should be obvious to you by now, de Laigny. His sister's happiness matters to us. And so if she chooses not to take you back..."
The sharpness of the other man's smile was a deadly promise.
"Then it will be so. You will not be able to take her back."