CHAPTER 5
ZANE
I’ve always been the calm one—the peacemaker. Especially among my brothers, who constantly swung between controlled chaos and reckless impulse, I was the one who said it wasn’t worth it. I kept my head down, focused on my art, on creating. And through that, I found my freedom—my independence.
But nothing in this world prepared me for Mia’s terrified eyes, for the way she shrank, hopeless, afraid, threatened. Nothing prepared the animal instinct that surged through my veins, urging me to eliminate anyone who dared touch her.
She’s not some fragile thing. Not a doll or a puppet.
She’s a person. And she's mine. My woman.
I don’t even realize if I ran toward the bastard like a wild animal or if I took calculated, controlled steps—everything’s a blur, all I know is that when my fist connects with his face, it’s like the world splits open. The pain shoots through me, tearing into my knuckles, but I don’t care. Not in that moment. Not when the blood of my fury is boiling beneath my skin, turning everything into a haze of rage.
Rage clouds my vision, turning everything into a blur as I focus on him, the bastard who made her afraid. The bastard who’s standing there, breathing, still alive, and every inch of my body screams that he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve the privilege of air in his lungs, not when he made her shrink in fear, not when he touched her like that.
No one intervenes. They all stand there, frozen. They know better. They know what I’ll do. And right now, they’re wise enough to stay out of my way.
“Touch her again,” I growl, “and I’ll kill you.”
The men around us are confused, unsure. Nico hasn’t shown up yet—I'm supposed to wait for him to talk business—but all I can think about is that this idiot laid hands on my wife. He made her sad.
That’s enough to make my hands go straight for his neck, squeezing until he chokes on his own breath. I don’t know how to fight—if he fights back, I’m probably getting my ass handed to me—but I won’t stop. I’ll keep going until he stops breathing.
“She’s not your woman yet,” he gasps, his words making my blood boil. I see red.
I pull my gun from my waist, swinging it at his head with a savage precision. The crack of the shot rings out, loud, deafening. His skull explodes under the impact, the force sending bits of bone, blood, and brain splattering across the floor. The air thickens with the metallic stench of death as his body slumps, lifeless, into the mess of gore that now coats the ground. It’s messy, visceral, but there’s no room for regret. No hesitation.
The problem is solved.
“Anyone else want to say that?” I ask, my voice low and lethal. No one answers. The security guards from the Society start hauling the body away like it’s just another Tuesday. But they look at me like I’ve lost my mind.
Sometimes, I wish I could be like Mitchell. He would’ve kept the bastard alive, tortured him. If I had the stomach for it, I’d probably be inclined to do the same.
“Reign…” Mia whispers, pulling me away from the scene.
I let her lead me out of there. We drive back to the mansion, and I can tell she’s terrified, even though she tries to hide it.
“No one will touch you,” I tell her, voice firm, but she looks at me like I’m the one who’s lost it.
“That’s not what worries me…” Her voice wavers. “If Nico finds out…”
“He won’t do anything. He’s desperate for Mitchell’s help.”
“This will end badly. You should go home.” Her words slice through me, the weight of them heavy in the air.
“Will you come home with me?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“You know I can’t. I’m in his sights again.”
“Your sister will protect you. Your brother will protect you. I’ll protect you.”
“No one needs to protect me,” she snaps, her tears falling freely now. “I don’t want anyone I love to die trying to protect me, okay? I don’t want that. If Nico finds out the truth… if he kills you…” She stops, and I watch her break in a way I’ve never seen.
Mia, strong, energetic, always carrying the weight of the world with a smile, is crumbling before me.
“I have nowhere else to go,” I say, my words raw, pleading. “You can ask me anything, but don’t ask me to leave.”
She doesn’t answer. Her tears continue to fall as she steps into the mansion, peeling off my blood-streaked suit like it’s something foreign.
I don’t know how to explain it, but somehow, in the midst of all this, I found a way to understand why Mia did what she did. And even though it eats me up inside that she killed my friend, I can’t bring myself to turn my back on her. The anger is there—strong, sharp, like a knife I can’t pull out. This whole situation? It’s a mess, a twisted fucking mess that makes my chest tight just thinking about it.
But even in all this rage and confusion, there’s something in me that refuses to walk away. I want her back. God, I want her back. And I want answers, I want to know what drove her to this.
But... I can’t shake the feeling that no matter how much this hurts, I’m not ready to let her go. It doesn’t mean the frustration doesn’t sting.
It doesn’t mean I’m not pissed off.
But in the end, none of that changes what’s in here—what’s deep inside me. I can’t give up on her, no matter what.
“Our current situation is impossible, Zane, I’m in a mess,” she says, her voice trembling but trying to stay strong.
“We’re in a mess, in sickness and in health,” I reply, my words low, heavy with the weight of everything between us. I try to believe it, to convince myself it means something.
“Even if I killed your friend?” She challenges, her eyes locking with mine, searching for the truth in my face.
I look down, the truth twisting in my gut. The honest answer is, I don’t have an answer for that. It’s not black and white. It’s never been that simple with her.
“Fuck, Mia…” I rub my hand over my face, trying to push the weight of it all out. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to say. I’m so pissed, I’m so fucking hurt—" My voice cracks, and for a second, it feels like I can’t breathe. "But I’m still here, aren’t I? Still standing right in front of you. What does that say?”
"Maybe it says you're a fucking idiot," she murmurs, almost to herself, but I hear it.
“We are.”
“So, this is how you felt when I killed someone?” she murmurs. “Because I feel… disturbed. This is the exact opposite of not drawing attention to yourself.”
I wipe the blood from my face, eyes scanning the mess on my shirt. “No one cares. People do this shit all the time,” I mutter, my words empty. “Besides, Reign was a real hothead.”
“You sound like you knew him.”
“I did.” The admission comes with a weight, one I never expected to carry. “I hunted him down. And I killed him.”
My own words shock me, but they spill out like they’ve always belonged to me.
She stares at me in disbelief. “Wow,” she whispers, shaken.
“I would’ve done the same to your father if I hadn’t known it would come back around on us…” I almost say it— against you. Against my family.
But I don’t. I can’t let her know how deep this goes. I can’t let her understand just how much of me she’s bled into.
Instead, I pull myself back together, clinging to the only thing I can control: the silence.