Sudden Death (Blackwood Blades #3)

Prologue

LUKE

Tonight, I would lay everything on the line, out in the open, and take the first steps into a future I was finally done hiding. Mila would be mine—publicly, and in a way my parents could not oppose.

From the moment I’d entered the Blackwood Foundation Gala, my public mask slipped into place.

The room oozed money trying to convince itself it had a soul—crystal chandeliers, champagne, silk, and smiles measured to the millimeter.

Perfume and decadence hung heavy in the air. Power dressed up as philanthropy.

And then there was Mila. Silver clung to her like liquid light, the dress dangerously skimming her body.

Low-backed. Bare shoulders. The fabric moved when she did, catching the chandelier’s light and throwing it back brighter.

She didn’t belong to this room—and that was exactly why every head turned.

I never looked away.

The pull was immediate, physical. It always was. Something deep and animalistic in me oriented toward her like a compass snapping north. I felt it in my chest, in my hands, in the instinctive need to touch her just to prove she was real.

When my hand rested at her waist, something hot and unrepentant flared. Not ownership. Claim. She fit as if she’d been made for me.

“You look—” My voice hitched, then steadied. “Dangerous,” I told her, because there wasn’t another word that fit.

Her full lips curved and she leaned in. “To you?”

I told her the truth. “Every time.”

I didn’t give myself a chance to hesitate as I steered us toward my parents.

This was the moment. If I didn’t claim her here—publicly, unmistakably—it would get taken from us later and twisted into something else.

“Dad. Mom.” My voice stayed polite, even as my grip on Mila firmed by a fraction. A silent brace. “This is my girlfriend, Mila Callahan.”

The word landed like a challenge.

Dad studied her the way he assessed threats. “Mila.” Her name alone held a warning.

I stepped closer on instinct—shielding her without trying to hide it, reminding him she wasn’t a pawn on his radar.

Mom filled the palpable silence left in Dad’s wake, her social mask snapping into place. “Thank you for your help with the student coordination. The turnout’s wonderful.”

“I—” Her attention flicked between my parents. “I’m glad.”

Dad extended his hand to her, and I stiffened at the thought of him—anyone—touching her with ill intent. I didn’t miss the intent in the gesture, the hardness in his eyes, or how I sensed he was about to strike at any moment. She shook his hand, and I wanted to rip her away from him.

“A Callahan at my table.” His gaze cut to me, a flicker of speculation behind it.

Our conversation months ago about my expectation to stay away from Mila was a crystal-clear reminder darkening his eyes.

Her mother’s status as a former employee of King Enterprises, the way she and her daughter had left unexpectedly one night, not returning for a full year, and when they did, Adriana Callahan had suspiciously gone to work for our competitor—Charles Dunn of Dunn Industries. “Interesting.”

Something in me went still. My thumb traveled lower at Mila’s waist—firm, possessive. Not hiding it and not apologizing for it. “Why wouldn’t she be?” My tone stayed even, controlled, every word deliberate. “She’s with me.”

For a beat, my parents paused, sensing the threat threaded through my voice.

Mom’s smile thinned, the corners straining to hold just as my brother Drew stepped in, all easy charm and perfect timing. “Wow, territorial pissing already?” He laughed lightly then kissed Mom’s cheek. “That’s faster than usual. Mila, you look stunning. Claire, come here. You remember Mila, right?”

His fiancée appeared at his side, pale in soft-pink silk, clutching her purse in front of her. When her gaze met Mila’s, understanding passed through her eyes. She knew what it was like to stand before my parents as they weighed and judged her as viable for their son, or simply not good enough.

“Good to see you again.” Her voice was low, careful. She clasped Mila’s hand in hers briefly in a subtle show of support.

Dad’s jaw flexed before he focused once more on me. “We’ll talk later.”

“Yeah.” I met his stare without blinking. “We will.”

Someone called Dad’s name from across the room, and we were dismissed.

As he and Mom left, the tension eased by inches, not gone—never gone—but loosened enough to breathe.

It wasn’t over, not by a long shot. There were several other sharks in the water we needed to head off.

I squeezed Mila’s waist, guiding her away from my brother and Claire with a look of thanks.

“Come on.” I bent to Mila’s ear, breathing in the light floral scent of her perfume. “We’re not done.”

Our next hurdle waited near the entrance—Lorne, my father’s fixer and business partner.

His grin was predatory, just as deadly—even with a woman clutching his arm.

She was eye candy. Decoration. He barely noticed her as he caught sight of us crossing the room, as if he’d already scented blood.

Dark eyes that always held promises no one wanted to know danced with unwelcomed mirth as they shifted from me to Mila.

“Lorne.” I drew his focus back to me, but only briefly.

“And this must be Mila Callahan.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “You have your mother’s eyes. I hope they’re finally seeing clearly.”

I moved without thinking—angled my body, hand settling at Mila’s hip, not blocking her but making the boundary unmistakable. “Careful,” I growled.

“Always.” Lorne laughed, white teeth flashing briefly before he sobered, his gaze drawn to whoever approached over my shoulder.

A commotion sounded behind us. A flurry of greetings.

The air thickened. Lorne’s presence shifted from—what for him—was playful to menacing.

The voice I heard just behind us told me exactly why.

Charles Dunn—Elise’s father, the man behind Dunn Industries, and one of the few men who operated on my father’s level—had arrived.

I shifted so Mila and I weren’t caught with our backs to him as he approached, all pit bull intensity and barely restrained force. His polished suit couldn’t hide the menace. His stunning wife clung to his arm, eyes slightly unfocused.

When Dunn was a few feet away, he paused and then lifted his glass. “Luke. Good skate last weekend.”

“Thank you.” I kept my mask in place. He was the last necessary hurdle we had to endure.

His gaze moved to Mila. The smile stayed polite. The eyes did not. “And this must be Mila Callahan.”

Mila stiffened against me. I stepped in before she could respond. “And my girlfriend.”

“Your mother’s been helpful too, hasn’t she?”

He was digging—using Mila to do it.

That did it. With the last of the big players notified, we were public now. A dark sense of satisfaction rolled through me despite the blood already in the water and the sharks circling.

“Of course.” Dunn’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “That must be why you’re here.”

Adriana appeared at Mila’s side. “Good evening, Mr. Dunn.” She plastered a polite smile on her lips. “Mila and I were just heading for a drink. Excuse us.”

I looked at Mila, the question clear in my eyes. The strain around hers gave me pause.

“I’ll be right back.”

My thumb brushed her hip as I let go—a slow, deliberate promise.

I watched them move toward the bar before I turned back to address Charles Dunn, noting that Lorne and his date were conveniently turned away and engaged in another conversation.

Dunn stood beside me as though he’d always planned to be there. Power hummed off him, quiet and lethal.

“Luke.” He lifted his glass. “I’m surprised your family supports your new relationship.”

I held his stare without flinching. “You know them well enough to predict that?”

A corner of his mouth twitched. “I’ve been around long enough to notice patterns.” His eyes flicked—not to me but past me. Toward Mila. “You tend to choose… complications.”

I followed his glance deliberately, just long enough to make it clear I knew exactly who he meant. “Mila isn’t a complication.”

“Isn’t she?” Dunn asked mildly. “There’s more to Adriana Callahan than you realize. More to her daughter too. People don’t disappear from Blackwood without leaving carnage.”

Something cold churned in my gut.

“If Adriana Callahan has skeletons,” I said evenly, “you’d know better than anyone. She works for you. As her employer, spreading rumors would be unprofessional.”

Dunn laughed softly. Not amused. Appraising. “You think this is rumor.”

“I think,” I said, leaning closer, “that if you have a problem with my girlfriend or her mother, you should address it directly. Otherwise, we’re done here.”

For a beat, the noise of the room seemed to dim around us.

Then Dunn’s eyes shifted. Just once. Over my shoulder. Every instinct I had screamed. I turned—Elise had closed in on Mila.

Elise moved through the crowd as though she owned the air—black dress, red mouth, jet hair pinned with precision, purpose in every step. She stopped directly in front of Mila, too close, invading space with practiced ease.

Elise leaned in, and Mila’s posture went rigid. I saw it instantly—the way panic pulled her features tight, draining the blood from her face as she masked it with politeness. The way her shoulders squared as though she was bracing for impact.

As Elise held out a thick envelope, the room dropped away. My pulse roared in my ears as Mila took it, fingers stiff, unreadable. She opened it. Scanned the first page. And went white.

Pure, blinding rage tore through me.

I started forward without thinking, body already cutting a path through the guests. Donors, board members, predators in tailored suits—I shoved past them all. I would tear through every damn one of them to get to her.

Behind me, I felt Dunn’s attention zeroed in, felt the trap snap tight.

Mila looked up.

Her eyes met mine across the room, and something inside her broke open—fear, resolve, apology all tangled together—a decision.

“No,” I breathed, even as my feet kept moving.

Elise leaned in closer, lips brushing Mila’s ear, satisfaction etched into every line of her posture. Adriana stood frozen beside her daughter, emerald dress immaculate, hands shaking just enough to give her away.

I was almost there.

Then Dunn shifted—just enough to enter my peripheral vision. He’d mirrored my path through the room.

Not touching me. Not stopping me. He was issuing a warning.

I halted on instinct, every muscle coiled, fists clenched so hard my palms burned. If I crossed that last distance now, they would make whatever game they were playing ugly. Public. Final.

Across the floor, Mila’s fingers crumpled the pages in her hand. Her mother said something low and urgent. Mila flinched—and then her spine straightened.

I knew this game without even seeing what Elise had handed her. The intent of their play landed. It was to be expected, whatever threat they’d issued would center around the idea that if Mila stayed, she would become leverage. If she walked, she would burn herself to save everyone else.

My chest split open. I never should have given them the opening they’d capitalized on with her.

Across the last bit of distance, I locked eyes with Mila, pouring everything I couldn’t say into my expression. I held her gaze—promise and war. The look that told her this wasn’t the end. That no matter what they forced tonight, I would come for her. For all of them.

Her mouth trembled.

I clocked the major players around me, taking in every nuance of expression, body postures, and ill intent. Dunn watched from the edge of the room, satisfied. Lorne leaned in close to another man, murmuring. Dad’s jaw locked. Claire stared at Mila like she already knew the cost of what was coming.

Mila didn’t move toward me. And I understood. This wasn’t over. It was just beginning. And they’d made one fatal mistake. They’d forgotten she was mine.