CHAPTER 24
ZANE
I want to fuck my wife, badly.
I never thought I’d be like this. I never expected it to hurt this much.
The way Mia consumes me, how every little touch, every glance, sends me spiraling.
It's like a hole inside of me, and every time she’s near, I fall deeper.
My body—damn it—my body betrays me. I wake up thinking about her, how perfect she looks when she wears that baggy shirt of mine, the way it hugs her body just right. And then she touches me, her fingers brushing mine, and it’s like a wave of fire runs through me, leaving me on edge. I can't control it.
I’m not supposed to feel like this.
I used to be in control. I was always the silent one, the observer, the one who let everything swirl around me while I stood still, unmoved. But Mia? She has this power over me, this pull that I can't shake. Every time she grabs my hand, my dick gets so hard I swear I’m going to lose it like some pathetic teenager. I’m regressing, I know it. I feel weak. And I can't stop it.
I try to drown it out. I listen to Blackpink—loud, so loud, the music blaring to cover up the thoughts, to pull me away from her, from the desire, from everything I can’t have.
I don't let the songs repeat. I don’t want my mind to latch onto anything, but it doesn't work. The music is just noise. The thoughts keep coming back, relentless, gnawing at me. It’s killing me, this tension inside, and I can’t do anything about it.
But it's not just about desire. It’s about protecting her. Mia’s been through too much already, and I won’t let it get worse. I’ve spent six months hiding the truth, covering it all up.
I can’t let my sister, Taylor, find out what happened. If she ever found out the truth, about what Mia did, about the fact that she killed our mother—who, by the way, was abusive and addicted to drugs—I can only imagine how that would go down.
My wife. My wife killed my mother. For God’s sake, the irony’s not lost on me. Mia just took out the one person who made my life hell, who made me feel like hating my city and I’m over here trying to act like I can hide it.
What a mess.
But, honestly, if Taylor knew? I’d be dead. Mia would be dead. Taylor doesn’t take kindly to anyone messing with her family. When she’s hurt, when she’s pushed too far, she doesn’t just get angry. No, she goes full-on vengeance mode. She’s a walking storm, and everyone around her better hope they’re not in her path.
She would care, too much.
But she’s busy—too busy trying to push a damn human out of her—and Harvin’s got her hidden away for her safety. I can’t help but feel a little uneasy about it. Kyle mentioned something, said that Harvs thinks everyone might end up hurting her, and that Harvin’s not in the mood to kill anyone right now. So, they’re all keeping their distance, letting things cool off.
That’s just Harvin, though. He’s always been like that—an unpredictable psychopath, but you can’t deny that when it comes to Taylor, he’s got her back.
Apart from the family drama, there’s the constant issue of Mia’s mind playing tricks on her, distorting reality until nothing feels quite real anymore. Sometimes, she’s in a world of her own, and I’m left trying to figure out what’s real and what isn’t. She swore she made a friend in France—some French girl she had coffee with—but I knew there was no one there. Just her, living in that headspace where things don’t always make sense. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t contradict her. It wasn’t my place.
But it hurt, watching her like that.
Watching her drift further from reality, from me.
Every moment, every word she said that didn’t quite make sense—it pulled her further away, and with it, pulled me under.
And at this point, losing her doesn’t just mean losing her—it means losing myself.
I can’t let this all fall apart.
I can’t let Mia fall apart.
But every time I see her, every time she looks at me with those eyes, it feels like I’m losing control.
I’m drowning, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep my head above water.
Because fuck, I want her.
I crave her. Every damn part of me aches for her, like I’m caught in a storm I can’t escape.
It’s not just physical—it’s deeper, something that pulls at my chest every time she’s close.
But I want her to want me, the real me.
Not the version of me she’s built in her head, some idealized image she clings to when reality feels too heavy.
My eyes wander back to Mia, watching her sleep so peacefully.
It’s almost unfair, how serene she looks when everything around us is a storm.
She’s completely unaware of the way my body tightens at the sight of her—like she's some kind of magnetic force, drawing me in despite my best intentions to stay away.
I’ve already run. Already drawn. Already tried distracting myself with a thousand excuses.
But it’s no use. Not when she’s lying there, her chest rising and falling in that rhythm I could get lost in, her skin glowing in the dim light that filters through the window.
She doesn’t know how badly I want to close the space between us, feel her heat against me.
The way she shifts ever so slightly, her lips parting just enough to tempt me, has my pulse racing.
I want to reach out, run my fingers through her hair, pull her into me and make her feel the same pull I can’t escape.
She stirs, her eyes fluttering open, and for a moment, she’s still half in the dream world, still soft and unguarded. Her gaze lands on me, like she’s known all along that I’ve been watching. “What?” she murmurs, her voice thick with sleep, but there's an edge there now, like she can feel the weight of the silence, the unsaid words, hanging in the air between us.
I stand there, caught in the intensity of her eyes, the way she looks at me like she’s trying to read my soul. My mouth goes dry, and I fight the urge to step closer, to close that space she’s left between us.
“Nothing,” I say, my voice a little rougher than I want it to be, betraying me. She knows, I think. She always knows. "Just... thinking."
She tilts her head, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Thinking about what, exactly?”
About fucking you senseless.
I can’t answer her. Not with words. Not when the tension feels like it’s choking me, making it hard to breathe.
My eyes drop to her lips, then back to her eyes, and I swear she’s teasing me with every little movement, every shift of her body.
My heart beats faster, louder, and I can’t decide if I want to kiss her or shout at her for making me feel this way.
She arches an eyebrow, sensing the shift in the air, her smile widening. “You know,” she says softly, “you’re way more charming when you stop fighting us.”
I don’t answer her, not right away. Instead, I let my gaze linger, the unspoken words hanging between us like a threat, waiting to be crossed.
God, I want her. The thought pulses through my veins, and for a moment, I forget everything else—our past, the mess we've made, the things I can’t say.
Mia leans up slightly, her body just a breath away from mine. “Stop running, Zane,” she murmurs, her voice low and thick with something I can’t quite place, but it pulls at me, right down to my core. “Stop pretending you don’t want this.”
Every part of me is scared to let her see that.
Every muscle in my body tightens.
I could close that distance between us in an instant, feel the heat of her skin against mine, taste the words she’s begging me to say.
Instead, I stay still, every nerve on edge, battling the urge to throw caution to the wind.
How do I tell her I’m terrified I’ll screw this up? I want her, all of her, but I’m so damn broken inside.
I want her, but does she want me back. Is it real for her now?
I’m stuck in this moment, caught between the need for her and the fear of what might happen if I give in.
But she doesn’t seem afraid. She never does. And right now, I’m not sure I want to be either.
“How’s your head, sweet chaos?” I ask, my voice rough, as I take advantage of Mia’s cheeky moment to slide my hands onto her cheeks. The touch is soft, but it holds weight—an unspoken question in the way my fingers linger on her skin, warm and smooth beneath my touch. If I’m going to kiss her, if I’m going to cross that line again, I need to know she’s here with me, that she’s not running from this, from us.
Her eyes meet mine, and I see that spark in her, the one that always makes my pulse quicken. “Always in you,” she whispers, and her words hit me like a punch to the gut. Always in you —it’s the way she says it, like she’s both certain and lost at the same time.
Her breath mingles with mine, and I feel the tension between us coil tighter, until it’s almost suffocating.
Every inch of me wants to pull her closer, press my lips to hers and let everything else fall away.
But then she finds something in my eyes, something she can’t look at anymore.
A sigh escapes her lips, soft and full of something unreadable, and before I can make sense of it, she pulls away, leaving a cold emptiness where her warmth used to be.
“I have to go,” she says, her voice quieter now, less certain. “I promised I’d meet Lara.”
The words hit harder than I expect, like a wall crashing down between us. “Okay,” I murmur, but it feels like a lie—like the one thing I don’t want is for her to walk away.
I want to hold her, keep her here, let the rest of the world fade into nothing for just a little while. I want to feel the pressure of her body against mine, the taste of her on my lips, the rush of her all around me.
But I let her go. And the reason? The reason is lost on me too. Maybe it’s because I don’t know what happens after.
Maybe it’s the fear that if I pull her into this, into me, I’ll break something that can’t be fixed.
Maybe it's because I feel like trash, or because I’m not as confident as I’d like to be, or maybe it's because I'm scared I'm going to ruin this. The miracle of someone actually liking me for who I am—enough to kill for me, enough to protect me.
“I’ll be back,” she says, but it doesn’t sound like a promise.
It sounds like a question.
And with that, she’s gone.
Lara has a way of pulling Mia in from the moment they meet, and it’s like she’s been doing it effortlessly ever since. It’s not that she’s literally stealing Mia from me, but it feels like that sometimes.
They’ve been spending a lot of time together, and Mia’s energy, her attention—it’s all wrapped up in Lara now.
It’s something I can’t quite explain, but I see it in the way Mia lights up when Lara’s around.
I don’t like it when Mia gets stolen. But seeing her laugh with Lara, how she lets her shoulders drop and teases back, makes me realize that this is different.
Mia has never had anyone like this—someone who wasn’t just a name among her survival options. Lara doesn’t feel like a forced bond or a heavy burden.
She just… happens.
I see it in her gestures, in the averted glances that give away that she really enjoys this friendship.
Carter never got that from her.
I know there’s a story there, one Mia hasn’t fully told me yet. But whatever it was, I know it ended with screaming and a knife in her hand.
And Carter has never been one to make anyone feel light.
He’s heavy.
Lara is different.
And maybe that’s why I don’t say anything.
Even though a part of me feels this heavy, tightness whenever she’s with someone else—like something inside me tugs, pulling at me, wanting her all to myself.
It’s this quiet ache, like I can’t quite catch my breath when she’s not just mine.
I think I miss her.
She deserves something simple, like making real friends and enjoying their company.
I remember when she first started talking to Livia, Audrey, and Andi, and though they still text, it's good to see her spending time with a friend in person.
Unlike me, Mia recharges around people. Where I retreat, she thrives, drawing energy from the world around her.
And while she’s finding her own way, I’ve got other things to handle.
The Society of the Crow is something that passes down from family to family.
It always has been that way. I accepted it because it was what my father would have done.
I wanted to understand why he cared so much about it, why he never hesitated to carry the name and the duties that came with it. But now, years later, I realize it wasn’t about the society itself. It was about him. About feeling closer to him.
I never really wanted to be here. I never wanted this destiny mapped out for me. But there are things we only do because we don't know how to say no.
And now, here I am, tattooing the symbols of an organization that existed before my name even meant anything.
And then comes Charlie.
"Earth to Zane, are you listening?"
I blink, dragged out of my own head. Mia’s name was still spinning circles in there, wrapping itself around everything— her voice, her laugh, the way she steals my hoodies like it means something permanent. Like she belongs there—wrapped up in my clothes, in my space, in everything I try to keep guarded.
In fact, she does. She belongs to me.
"Hm?" I mumble, already knowing I’m late to whatever point Charlie was making.
She groans and rolls her eyes like I’ve just committed a personal offense. "I was talking about Mitchell, idiot."
"Right. Mitchell." I shift in the chair and pretend I wasn’t a million miles away thinking about someone who won’t leave me alone, even when she’s not here.
"You’re seriously hopeless," Charlie mutters. Then she lifts the phone she was scrolling through and turns it toward me. "Look. This is him. I swear to you, he looks like you, but with black hair and way too much money."
Reign has been the talk of the town ever since he announced his grand rebellion against the Society. But no one in power takes him seriously—acknowledging him would mean giving him legitimacy, and he has none. So, they ignore him. Which means the memes and jokes never get their moment.
"Are you sure you weren’t switched at birth?"
"Unfortunately, yeah," I mutter, and Charlie pats my shoulder like she actually feels bad for me.
I stare for a moment, and it's bizarre how much our faces resemble each other. We could easily be mistaken for one another.
"He’s an idiot, but he knows how to disappear when it matters. Sources say he’s trying to cut a deal with the Cartel. He’s not from Texas, so they probably don’t know him yet. But I do."
"You know everyone. Perks of being from a founding family."
"Not exactly. It’s impossible to know everyone ." She tilts her head. "But the Owl Clan? They probably do. Those bastards always find a way to know everything ."
"I didn’t know Livia and Andi were part of the Society," I say, thinking of Mia’s friends.
"Livia Goodwin—well, Livia Spencer now. She’s my sister-in-law," Charlie corrects. "Old blood. Her family’s one of the founding ones. Andi’s took over after the Rivieras fell, but it’s not the same."
"And that’s why Reign Mitchell is so pissed off he’s trying to start a mini-revolution?"
"You know how men are," she says, dry as ever. "They don’t get what they want, so they start a war. He wanted the high seat too." She shrugs like it’s nothing. "But I don’t think we need to worry about Crimson Star right now. Though..." A slow smirk creeps onto her face. "It wouldn’t hurt if you made us some bombs."
"Why do you want me to make bombs, Charlie?"
I'm direct. There's no need to embellish.
Charlie crosses her arms and tilts her head to the side, that look that says she already knows my answer but will pretend she's willing to negotiate.
"Because you're good at it. Didn't you major in chemistry?"
"I'm a tattoo artist," I retort, as if it were as simple as that.
She looks at me sideways. I know she won't accept that answer.
I never wanted to be a chemist. I just needed a major that would get me out of Texas, and my high school grades were good enough to get me a scholarship to chemistry. Plus, it was just a phase.
I was a teenager obsessed with Fullmetal Alchemist, thinking I could become something similar, a real-life alchemist. I still love the anime, but it's not like liking it means I like blowing things up.
But I've made a few. A few bombs for Charlie, because she needed specific chemicals, and I was one of the few who knew how to mix them properly without blowing myself up in the process. But I told her my days of that shit were over. My job would just be to mark limbs with paint, not gunpowder.
But Charlie is stubborn.
"You wouldn't have to do this alone. Besides, it was Laura Barone who asked to work with you."
"No, thanks." My answer is immediate. I don't like mobsters. Much less working with the needy wife of one of them. I'm very happily married.
Charlie snorts.
"You'd like Laura. She's the head of the Chemistry department at Goodwin University."
"Good for her." I don't care.
"Come on, Zane. Trevor wants to make Cosa Nostra happy, and I've always had your back. What's it gonna take for you to do that for me?"
"I'm not working with thirsty trophy wives," I grumble, crossing my arms as if that alone could shield me from the sheer absurdity of the situation.
"Trust me, Laura Barone is not a thirsty trophy wife."
The voice comes from Hunter Spencer.
He enters the conversation as if he already knows everything before he is even called.
Hunter is the leader of the Snake clan, my clan, but he's never really cared about acting like one.
He prefers to let Charlie call the shots while he focuses on maintaining alliances. We're not exactly close, but we respect each other.
"Did you come here to give a leader's order?" I challenge.
He smiles. One of those charismatic smiles that makes people forget he's dangerous.
"No. I don't like that shit. I leave that kind of stuff to AJ. I'm just curious. Let's just say Laura Barone is a dear friend and I'm surprised by her interest in you. Maybe it doesn't have much to do with you."
Charlie stiffens.
"Hunter, stop."
But he ignores her.
"Forgive me, I always get bored when Livia travels."
"That's why even your wife can't stand you," Charlie teases.
Hunter rolls his eyes.
"Please, Livia wouldn't live without me. But I'd like to keep my relationship with my wife between us and talk about Zane and the proposal to work with Laura."
"What is there to talk about?" I ask.
"Her husband is a little overprotective."
Charlie grumbles.
"Overprotective? Pietro Barone is a psychopath when it comes to his wife and children."
"Great. And you still want me to work with her."
"Laura is not a conventional mob wife. Her father is Nico Riviera. You know Cecilia Ross, right?"
"In truth, no." But I know Nico Riviera.
All too well.
Connor Ross, the leader of Evermore, married Cecilia, but I never met her in person.
"I told you Zane isn't very close to the Evermores," Charlie interjects.
"And I told you it's not his closeness that interests me."
"He won't let you near Mia."
No, I wouldn't.
Hunter looks at me, then continues:
"You know Mia is protected because she's your wife, and we would never hurt her, right?"
"Then there's no need to worry about Mia."
He smiles.
"I'm not worried about Mia. She's my friend."
He shows me the cell phone.
Mia: Have you stopped being an idiot to Liv yet?
Hunter: I’m never an idiot, and I did try to send you a wedding invite—guess it got lost in the mail.
Mia: I’m about to cry here, straight from Paris. Liv told me she didn’t bother sending one since it was something she didn’t even want to do. Looks like you're burned, lover boy.
Hunter: I’ll win her over, you’ll see. We’re still friends, right? You’ll say nice things about me to her?
Mia: I’ve never heard anything good about you, Hunter.
Hunter: Ouch, that hurt... I thought we were friends.
Mia: We can be, but you’ve got to take care of her, or this friendship’s done.
Hunter: Deal.
Hunter: Just don’t have too much fun like you did in LA.
Mia: No promises.
What the hell did Mia and Hunter do in Los Angeles?
My blood boils.
"Relax, we're friends. My wife loves Mia,” Hunter says noticing my face.
"He thinks Mia works with the Cartel," Charlie says.
My heart stops.
"Mia is not a spy."
"Can you prove it?"
I know I can trust her.
Hunter smiles.
"If it were my wife, I’d be demanding to know what the hell Laura wants from her."
And I will.
If Mia has enemies in the past, I will deal with them.
Nobody touches her.
Hunter stares at me for a moment, gauging my reaction. He still has that carefree smile on his lips, but I see his eyes studying me carefully, trying to figure out how far he can poke me without getting punched in the face.
"You don't sound happy about that information, Zane." His voice is casual, but there's a hint of amusement in it.
I cross my arms, gritting my teeth.
"I see no reason to be."
"So you really didn't know your wife was updating Livia about everything that they have a little friendship going on?"
I clench my jaw.
"What Mia and Livia do is none of my business. But yes, I did know."
I just didn’t know who Livia was.
And I’m not sure if Mia’s knows it too.
Hunter chuckles softly.
"Hm." He slides his finger across the phone screen and turns the device toward me again.
Now it's a photo. Not of Mia, but of a half-empty martini glass, a lighter, and a woman's purse on a luxurious counter. The caption reads "Paris. Finally a place where I don't have to see my husband's face."
I know it wasn't Mia who posted it, but her response is below:
Mia: We should do this more often. The LA bonfire is still the best, but Paris has its charm.
I look up at Hunter, who is watching me with obvious interest.
Does he realize this says more about him than it does about Mia? After all, his wife has no problem letting the world know just how much she despises him.
"So? Did you already know, or was this a surprise?"
Charlie sighs beside us.
"Stop poking, Hunter."
"What? I just want to know how well Zane knows his own wife."
"I know Mia better than any of you." My voice comes out steady, but I feel the heat of anger rising in my chest.
Hunter raises his hands in a peaceful gesture.
"Okay, okay. No need to fight. I just find it curious how Mia has been moving in the right circles lately. First my wife... and now, maybe, Laura Barone."
Charlie stares at me.
"That's why you have to take the job, Zane. You want to know what Laura wants with Mia? This is your chance."
I close my eyes for a second, taking a deep breath.
"I don't like working with these fucking mobsters."
"But you will."
My jaw locks.
"I'm not going to do this for you. I'm going to do it for Mia."
Hunter smiles as if he already knew that would be my answer.
"Of course you will."
Charlie doesn't smile, but she looks at me approvingly.
"I knew you wouldn't let me down."
I take a step back, running my hand through my hair.
"I want to know everything you know about Laura Barone. Everything."
Charlie nods.
"So let's start from the beginning."
Hunter leans against the table, arms crossed, still watching me like a patient predator.
"And in the meantime... maybe I should send Mia a new message."
I clench my hand into a fist.
"Do that and I'll break your phone, leader."
He laughs, satisfied.
I already hate all of this. But if anyone is going to find out what the hell Laura Barone wants with Mia, it's me.
And I won't let anything happen to her.