Chapter 6
NICK
I stand in the dead center of the velvet trap.
The sitting room occupies a massive chunk of the East Wing Suite.
It belongs on the cover of an expensive architectural magazine.
The floors are polished dark mahogany. The walls are painted a soft, sickeningly innocent cream color.
Gold accents catch the dim amber light spilling from the streetlamps outside.
It smells exactly like her.
Rose. Dark amber. A sharp hint of pure, unadulterated female panic.
An intoxicating, highly dangerous scent. It coats the inside of my lungs. It scrambles the logical pathways in my brain. It makes a man want to strip off his tactical vest, drop his weapons on the floor, and forget his goddamn orders.
I refuse to forget my orders.
I reach into my heavy assault pack. I pull out three encrypted digital tablets. I dump them onto the delicate glass coffee table.
The hard black metal scratches the pristine surface. I do not care. I am systematically dismantling her safe space. I am turning her beautiful sanctuary into a temporary tactical base.
Rafe paces the perimeter of the room.
His heavy combat boots crush the expensive rug with every step. He moves with restless, caged energy. The physical pat-down in her bedroom pushed him to the edge of his control. His hands flex and release at his sides. He is looking for something to hit.
Jude sits in a plush velvet armchair in the dark corner.
He holds a sleek tactical knife. A small whetstone slides against the dark steel. The rhythmic scraping fills the quiet room. Terrifying in his unbreakable calm.
We are the Trojan Horse.
Dominic Costa opened his heavy front doors and invited the monsters inside. He thinks he bought elite private security. He thinks his massive bank account ensures loyalty. He is a dead man walking.
The Broken Halos MC sent us here to do a specific job.
Dominic controls the lucrative shipping routes running through the Eastern Ridge. He uses cartel money to squeeze the club out of the city. He bribes the judges. He pays off the local cops. He chokes our legitimate businesses.
We need his master digital ledger.
We need the hidden offshore account numbers. The illegal port manifests. The encrypted blackmail files. The leverage to crush his empire and take the Eastern Ridge back for the club.
We have exactly twenty-four hours to find it.
I swipe my thumb across the primary tablet.
Lines of decrypted green code fill the screen.
Jude cracked the Costa server three hours ago.
He bypassed the firewall in under ten minutes.
We mapped the digital security grid. We identified the physical camera blind spots.
We know every inch of this sprawling compound better than the men who built it.
I tap a hidden encrypted folder. It expands.
“Look at this,” I command.
Rafe stops his pacing. He stalks toward the coffee table. Jude stands. He slides his knife into the Kydex sheath on his thigh. They flank me. They stare at the glowing screen.
I scroll down the digital document. I highlight the midnight timeline with a hard tap of my index finger. The intel from last week is confirmed in cold, hard code.
“Calix Ferraro is officially on the guest list.”
Rafe growls. The name rips from his throat. Ferraro is a literal butcher. The Leonardi boss runs the western ports with unchecked cruelty.
“The ambush is set,” I confirm. “Midnight toast. A surprise arranged marriage announcement.”
Jude leans closer. His dark eyes scan the words with surgical speed. “Dominic is selling his sister to secure a permanent port alliance. The paperwork is finalized.”
Rafe curses. He kicks the thick wooden leg of the coffee table. The glass rattles hard.
“She has no idea,” I state the brutal fact aloud.
The terrible realization sits heavy in the air between us.
Lucia walks around this compound with her chin held high. She wears her Costa arrogance like a tailored shield. She shoots back witty insults. She fights for control in the kitchen. She thinks she is a player in the game.
She is just the prize.
Dominic treats her like a piece of meat. He dresses her in expensive silk. He puts her on display. He plans to hand her over to a monster the second the clock strikes twelve. He plans to let Ferraro take her away to the western district.
A dark, possessive rage ignites in the center of my chest.
It burns hot. It burns fast. It demands blood.
I want to walk upstairs right now. I want to drag Dominic out of his bed. I want to shatter his jaw with my bare hands. I want to break his fingers one by one until he begs for mercy. I want to paint the walls with him.
I force the urge down.
The mission requires discipline. The MC requires the ledger. I am the Commander. I cannot compromise the entire operation for a woman.
I have to keep my head clear. I have to keep my men focused.
“We have a massive problem.” I look at my brothers.
Rafe glares at me. “The problem is Dominic. The problem is Ferraro walking into this house.”
“No.” I reach into my tactical vest. I pull out my encrypted phone. “The problem is our focus.”
I unlock the screen. I open the security group chat.
The explicit masturbation confession is still right there, mocking me.
She might have deleted it from her own device, but on mine, her words are a permanent stain.
I just had one of the best orgasms I’ve had in years…
The text is a goddamn siren song, and every time I read it, my cock thumps against my thigh, demanding I go find her and finish what she started.
I drop the phone onto the glass table. It lands next to the tablets with a sharp clack.
“We need to talk about the text,” I order.
Rafe stares at the screen, his golden eyes fixed on her confession. His jaw clenches so hard a thick muscle leaps in his cheek, his breathing turning ragged as he pictures her fingers working her clit while she looked at his file. He rubs his scarred chest with a closed fist.
Jude does not look at the phone. He looks at me.
“She is a landslide of a woman.” The words leave my mouth with conviction.
I do not hide the truth. I do not play games. I am a grown man. I know exactly what I want. I claim what is mine.
“Every time she moves, that emerald silk dress fights a losing battle to hold her in.” I plant my hands flat on the table.
I lean forward. “I want Lucia. I don’t want some fragile princess; I want those thick, lush curves shaking under the weight of my body.
I want to feel her heavy tits crushed against my chest while my rough hands bruise her hips.
I’m going to sink my cock into her so hard her eyes roll back, and I’m going to keep her wrapped tight around my waist until I’ve filled her pussy to the brim with my seed.
I’m not just going to fuck her; I’m going to breed her until she realizes the Costas never owned her—she belongs to the Halos. ”
Rafe exhales a harsh, ragged breath. He refuses to meet my eye.
“The Thunderbolt hit me the second I crossed the threshold.” I admit the primitive biological hijack aloud. I own it. “If we were not on a ticking clock. If she was not a cartel target. I would have had her on her knees on that marble floor before the front doors even closed.”
Silence fills the sitting room.
Not an uncomfortable silence. A heavy, honest understanding. We are brothers. We bleed for the same club. We do not lie to each other. We do not hide our demons.
Rafe resumes his pacing.
He walks to the bay window. He stares out into the dark grounds. His massive shoulders lock rigid. His hands curl into fists at his sides.
“She is a distraction.” Rafe spits the words out. “A beautiful, thick-thighed distraction we do not need right now.”
He grips the heavy silk drapes. His large knuckles strain against the delicate fabric. The brass rod rattles.
“But she has a mouth that could start a war,” Rafe continues. The gravel in his voice softens a fraction. The feral admission bleeds through his anger. “She has the eyes of a fighter. Most women in this life are just shadows. They blend into the background. They do what they are told.”
He turns around. His golden eyes blaze in the dim light.
“She is a goddamn sun.” Rafe says it like a confession. “She burns bright. That makes her dangerous. That makes me want to burn with her.”
He shakes his head. He steps back from the window. He rejects it the only way he knows how—by putting distance between himself and the thought.
I turn my head. I look at Jude.
The quietest man is always the deadliest. Jude observes everything. He dissects every interaction. He operates with cold, surgical precision. He does not waste words.
“And you?” I ask him. “Where is your head at, Surgeon?”
Jude steps into the amber light. He stands tall.
“She is a masterpiece of resilience.” His low baritone carries unwavering certainty.
He does not talk about her body. He does not talk about her curves. He talks about her core. The unbreakable steel hidden beneath the silk.
“The way she looks at that little girl.” Jude pauses. A dark, intense emotion crosses his face and disappears in a fraction of a second. “She carries the weight of this entire corrupt family on her back. She lives in a cage. She is surrounded by monsters. And she has not buckled once.”
Jude meets my stare head-on. He does not flinch.
“That is pure courage,” Jude says softly. “I want to dismantle the cage. I want to show her what safety feels like.”
The confessions hang heavy in the air.
Three lethal operators. Three massive, heavily armed men.
We are compromised.
I pick up my phone. I hit the lock button. The screen goes black.
I shove the device back into my tactical vest. I look down at the blueprints on the tablet. I force my brain back into Commander mode.
“The objective remains the same.” I tap the glowing screen. “We want the Eastern Ridge. We need the master ledger to get it.”
Rafe steps away from the window. “We search the compound tomorrow during the Gala. Dominic will be distracted with his political guests.”
“Exactly.” I nod. “We’ll run a staggered rotation. One of us stays visible at the ballroom doors to keep up appearances, while the other two ghost through the restricted wings. We play our parts. We look like mindless hired muscle while we strip this place of its secrets.”
Jude crosses his arms over his chest. “And Ferraro?”
The name lands like a curse in the quiet room.
I look at my brothers. I see the exact same lethal intent mirrored in their eyes. We do not need a verbal agreement. We do not need to discuss the tactical logistics.
We are here for the Broken Halos. We are here for the ledger. We do not take hostages. We do not run rescue missions for cartel princesses.
But the rules of engagement just changed.
“Tomorrow night, we let Dominic make his speeches,” I command. My voice drops to a lethal, vibrating calm. “We observe the room. We find the ledger. We secure the intel for the club.”
I plant my hands on the table. I lean forward.
“We do not blow our cover until we have the drive.” I look toward the closed mahogany door of her bedroom.
My grip tightens on the edge of the glass.
“But whatever happens at that Gala tomorrow night, she does not leave with Calix Ferraro. Even if we have to burn this entire compound to the ground to get her out.”