7. Seven
SEVEN
THEO
I t took everything I had to pull away from her. Every fiber in my body urged me to turn around. To go to her and give her exactly what she’d asked for.
But I knew she was hurting, and I didn’t want to be with her while she was getting over her ex. I would be the only one on her mind when I fucked her.
When I got home, I accessed the hidden cameras I’d installed in her house while she’d been at school. I’d taken the spare key for myself when I’d fixed her door. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t keep my distance. I could argue that I was concerned about her safety in my absence, which wasn’t entirely untrue, but deep down, my motives were more complex and unsettling than I would ever confess.
Sitting at my computer, I logged into my software to scour the Internet for information about Raven.
No results.
That’s odd. I typed in Raven/Connor McKinley .
While waiting for the software to process my search, I turned my attention back to the camera feed. She was in the living room now, curled up on the couch with a blanket, the glow of the television illuminating her face. Even from this distant view, I could see the tear stains on her cheeks .
A notification popped up on my screen. The search had finished, but it had come up empty. No social media profiles, no public records, not even a mention of a name anywhere online. Everyone had a digital footprint these days. But it was as if Raven didn’t exist.
I leaned back in my chair, perplexed. I typed in Connor McKinley’s girlfriend .
I watched her turn the TV off and walk upstairs to her room. She collapsed onto her bed, burying her face in her pillow as her body shook with sobs.
A soft ping drew my attention back to the search results. I frowned as I scanned the meager information displayed on the screen. It wasn’t until I reached the end of the results that I found a newspaper article titled “Senator’s Son: Threat to Collegiate Middleweight Champion.” Underneath the headline was a black-and-white photo of Connor with his arm around Raven. The article was dated one month ago, detailing Connor’s victory in a boxing tournament. Next to “pictured in order left to right,” it named the people in the photo: Charles McKinley, Connor McKinley, and longtime girlfriend, Wrenly Morgan.
I felt like the air had been sucked from the room. It couldn’t be. This had to be a mistake. She couldn’t be the girl I had pulled, bloody and bruised, from the wreckage.
I hastily typed Wrenly Morgan into the search bar, and my fingers shook as I hit enter. The search results loaded, and my eyes widened in disbelief as I saw several newspaper articles about the Morgans.
“Prominent New York Couple Killed In Fiery Car Crash.”
“Investment Banker Thomas Morgan and Wife Margaret Morgan Tragedy.”
“Thomas Morgan Sister Huge Win In Court.”
“Cecelia Morgan, Newly Appointed CEO of Morgan Industries.”
On Christmas Eve, prominent New York City Investment Banker Thomas Morgan and his wife Margaret were tragically killed in a car accident on the way home from a charity event to raise money for a local hospital. They are survived by their son, Gage Morgan (24), and their daughter, Wrenly Morgan (20).
My mind reeled as I stared at the article, trying to process the implications. Wrenly, not Raven. She had lied to me about her identity, her past, everything. But why? What was she hiding from?
I continued to scroll through the search results. There were a few mentions of her on society pages and charity event coverage, and she was always pictured beside Gage, her brother and our resident doctor. I combed through every piece of information I could find on her. Her social media profiles were all private, but I found a few old photos of her before the accident. She’d looked different then—happier, more carefree. But there was no mistaking those gray eyes.
Following their parents’ passing, Wrenly and her brother Gage had found themselves entangled in a fierce legal dispute with Thomas’s sister, Cecelia, over their family’s extensive wealth. Despite Thomas’s wish for Gage to take the lead in the family business, Cecelia was appointed as the estate’s executor. However, they challenged the will, asserting that their parents intended the inheritance to be divided equally between her and her brother.
The legal battle had dragged on for months thanks to unclear wording of the will and played out in New York society’s tabloids and gossip pages. In the end, a settlement was reached—Cecelia would take control of Morgan Industries, while Gage and Wrenly received a sizable trust fund. However, the damage to the family’s reputation and the siblings’ relationship with their only surviving family and aunt was irreparable.
The worst part about it all was I’d been there the night her parents had died. It’d been me who had pulled her from the wreckage. I’d encouraged my father to use his influence to convince St. Mary’s to allow her to go to school for free—although we had respected her parents’ wishes and had done it anonymously. We were under strict orders to leave her alone after that. Cassian King had offered Gage a position in our family as our doctor, tending to our needs away from hospitals with a generous paycheck as a compassionate gesture in memory of his parents. Gage enjoyed the perks of The Brotherhood but had no interest in leading the organization. He’d never say it, but he held anger toward The Brotherhood for leading to the death of his parents. So he channeled that anger into becoming a doctor and worked for The Brotherhood in a different capacity. In his mind, he kept The Brotherhood and his medical practice separate, but he walked a fine line, because the two worlds often collided, and there was no escaping it.
Thomas Morgan had been the leader of The Brotherhood; without him, our fathers would never have risen so high in society and wouldn’t have been in the positions of power to take over after his death. The Brotherhood owed him, and we looked after our own. Even in death, loyalty ran deep.
Hours passed as I watched her, never taking my eyes off the screen. Eventually, her sobs subsided and she drifted off to sleep, still fully clothed on top of her covers.
Memories from that fateful night flooded my mind. The charity masquerade, the accident, the news that Nikolai Petrov had ordered a hit on Thomas Morgan for dismantling his empire, and a series of transactions that had followed.
It had been years since I last thought about it.
The ballroom was lit up to resemble the Aurora Borealis, celestial hues of greens, blues, and purples bathing the elegantly dressed crowd in an ethereal glow. I stood at the edge of the dance floor, nursing a scotch and scanning the room. These charity events were all the same—New York’s elite patting themselves on the back for their generosity while indulging in excess.
My eyes settled on Thomas and Margaret Morgan gliding across the dance floor, matching gold masks on their faces, the picture of marital bliss. They were the golden couple, admired and envied in equal measure—a fairy tale in a world of arranged marriages lacking true love.
Thomas deserved to be the leader of The Brotherhood with his keen business acumen and political influence. He knew how to command the attention of all those who worked for him. Our fathers wanted to be him, but they had this twisted sense of loyalty and jealousy because Thomas truly was the best one for the position.
Margaret was a devoted wife and mother, who still turned heads with her classic beauty, black hair, and gray eyes. We all strove to one day have a wife like her, beautiful, loyal, intelligent . . . a queen.
I stood off to the side with Cassian King, Asher Montgomery, Kai, Archer, Thane West—my father—and some other members of The Brotherhood. We’d been invited to celebrate Thomas Morgan’s latest business coup, a multimillion-dollar deal that had solidified his position in his company, Morgan Enterprises. But beneath the glitz and glamour, tensions were running high.
Rumors had been swirling for weeks that Nikolai Petrov, a ruthless Russian oligarch, was out for blood. The Brotherhood had outmaneuvered him in a series of lucrative contracts, and Petrov’s empire was crumbling as a result. Intel suggested he had put a hit out on Thomas as retribution. Not that hits were uncommon. We all knew the risks. Every day we weren’t murdered or hadn’t died in the line of duty to The Brotherhood was a good day, a lucky day. Still, The Brotherhood had closed ranks, doubling security and watching each other’s backs even more than usual.
As the night wore on, I scanned the crowd to find my father deep in conversation with Thomas, their heads bent close together, no doubt discussing Brotherhood business.
My gaze drifted across the room and landed on her. A girl with black hair, her eyes a luminescent gray, her face hidden behind a black feathered mask. She looked ethereal in a shimmering silver gown that clung to her lithe frame, her raven hair swept up in an elegant chignon. My father nodded in my direction, and Thomas approached me.
“Theo, your father was just telling me that you were the one who obtained the intel on the Petrov family. Solid work.” Thomas reached out and shook my hand.
I returned his handshake firmly, inclining my head in acknowledgement. “Thank you, sir.”
My father clasped a hand on my shoulder, a rare smile on his stern face. “I’m proud of you, son. You’re proving yourself to be an invaluable asset to The Brotherhood. ”
I nodded, standing a little taller at his praise. It was hard earned and seldom given.
The masked girl glanced our way, and her eyes seemed to linger on me briefly before flitting away.
Thomas followed my gaze, looking between me and the girl. “My daughter,” he stated.
I tore my gaze away from her. “I’m s-orry?” I stuttered, my face flushing in shame for being caught creeping on the boss’s daughter.
Thomas chuckled, a knowing glint in his eye. “That’s my daughter, Wrenly. She’s her mother’s daughter, intelligent and stubborn.” He leaned in closer, his voice lowering. “The day you have a daughter, your whole world changes. Somehow, they manage to weasel into your chest and thaw your frozen heart.”
I nodded, unsure how to respond. The idea of having a daughter, or any child for that matter, was foreign to me. In our line of work, starting a family was a liability, a weakness our enemies could exploit.
Thomas clapped me on the back. “Don’t worry, son. You’ve got plenty of time to start thinking about settling down.” He chuckled again, shaking his head. “But when you do, you’ll understand what I mean.”
I nodded again, my eyes drifting back to his daughter. She was talking to a group of men, and her posture was confident and self-assured. One of the men said something that made her throw her head back in laughter, the sound of it carrying across the room like a melody.
“Gage.” Thomas broke the silence between us, nodding to the masked boy beside his daughter. “My son is showing off right now. Let’s hope he can channel that class clown energy into finishing med school.”
I wondered why I had never seen the Morgan kids before, how they had avoided the life that Archer, Kai, and I had been thrust into far too young, when my father spoke, seeming to have read my mind. “Are you sure keeping them away from The Brotherhood is best for them?” my father questioned him.
Thomas sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. “I want them to have a chance at a normal life. This—Morgan Industries—will be their legacy to carry on.” He gestured around the room at the masked figures, ignoring the air of secrecy and the few Brotherhood members that permeated the gathering. “ They deserve to choose their own paths, to not be forced into a life of danger and uncertainty.”
My father nodded, though I could sense the doubt in his gaze. “And what if they decide to follow your path? Will you deny them their inheritance?”
Thomas’s jaw tightened, and I feared he might quarrel with my father. But he eased, a wistful smile appearing on his face. “If that’s their true desire, I won’t hinder them. But I want them to have the choice—the freedom to decide on their own.”
I couldn’t help but respect his position. In a world dominated by death and ruin, children were raised to inherit their family’s legacy, with our futures dictated by our births. Yet Thomas was offering his children the opportunity to choose and liberate themselves from the chains of their predetermined fate.
“What if they’re needed? What if their talents could make a difference in our cause?” my father asked.
Thomas turned to face him, his expression resolute. “Then it will be their decision to make, not ours. I know that’s not what you or our other brothers have chosen for your children, and I respect your decision to stay in line with the old ways, but this is what Margaret and I feel is best for Gage and Wrenly. We’ve chosen this life, but I won’t force it upon them. They need to live, to experience the world beyond The Brotherhood. Only then can they truly understand the weight of our responsibilities.”
As if sensing my inner turmoil, Thomas turned to me, his eyes softening. “Theo, you’re young, and you’ve already proven yourself to be a valuable member of the organization. I am grateful for your contributions. However, don’t let this life consume you. You can still choose to explore and find your purpose beyond this. Beyond all the secrets and killing.”
My father looked at him with skepticism. I could see the internal struggle playing out behind his eyes. The Brotherhood had existed for decades, a legacy passed down from generation to generation. None of us had a choice; we were slaves to the patriarchy we belonged to. What Thomas talked about was a dream that wasn’t afforded to the rest of us. It didn’t matter that Thomas and Margaret thought they could keep their children separate. We all knew The Brotherhood was a part of them, no matter how far they ran. Although I admired Thomas for his convictions, I knew better.
We all did.
After Thomas and my father excused themselves, I sat at the bar, watching her. She laughed at something Gage said, her eyes sparkling with mirth. She had a wild, untamed spirit about her.
I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
Little did she know that her whole world would be shattered in mere hours.
“Got your eye on Thomas Morgan’s daughter, do you?” Kai teased, handing me another flute of champagne.
I looked over at him and admired his silver mask. He wasn’t one for parties, but he’d really embraced the costume for this one. I had chosen a bronze mask, the filigree weaving intricate patterns across the surface, each line a delicate thread of metal. The cool weight settled on my skin, and it shimmered with an otherworldly glow in the ballroom’s crystal lights and gilded mirrors.
“I’m just keeping an eye on things, that’s all.” I took a long sip of champagne.
“If that’s what you want to call it, sure.” He leaned in and whispered, “But you might want to adjust your pants before Thomas sees your dick pointing in her direction.”
I looked down, embarrassed when I realized my dick was hard.
Fuck .
Kai chuckled, clearly amused. “She is a pretty thing, isn’t she?”
“She’s off limits.”
He raised an eyebrow. “When has that ever stopped us?”
I shook my head, my eyes drifting back to where she stood. “She’s Thomas Morgan’s daughter. The man is royalty in our world.”
“All the more reason to go for it,” he goaded with a smirk. “Imagine the power you’d have, being with her. You’d be untouchable.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “Or I’d end up with a bullet in my head, courtesy of dear old dad.”
“YOLO,” Kai stated before spotting a pretty blonde giving him fuck-me eyes by the bar. “I’m going to see if that little blonde number has a gag reflex.”
Thomas and Margaret approached me as Kai walked away, their arms linked and smiles on their faces.
“Hello again,” Thomas said, shaking my hand. “Enjoying the festivities?”
I cleared my throat, willing my body to behave. “Yes, sir. It’s a lovely event. ”
Margaret’s gray eyes twinkled as she assessed me. “Oh my, Theo, how you’ve grown. You’re quite the handsome young man now.”
I felt my cheeks flush at the compliment. “Thank you, Mrs. Morgan. You look stunning as always.”
Thomas chuckled and lovingly touched her black hair, and then patted my shoulder. “I’d better keep an eye on you, son. Can’t have you stealing my best girl away.”
Margaret playfully swatted his arm. “Oh, stop it, you old charmer. You know I only have eyes for you.”
Thankfully, Thomas changed the subject. “I hear more congratulations are in order, Theo. Your father just told me you’re at the top of your class at St. Mary’s. Planning on following his footsteps and becoming a lawyer yourself?”
I straightened my shoulders. “That’s the plan, sir. I want to make my father proud.”
Thomas nodded approvingly. “Good man. The Brotherhood can always use men like you and your father. Keep up the good work.”
“Thank you, sir. That means a lot.”
Margaret smiled warmly at me. “And what about outside your studies? Any special young lady in your life?”
I nearly choked on my champagne. “Ah, no. Not at the moment.”
Thomas chuckled knowingly. “Well, there’s no rush, son. When the right one comes along, you’ll know it. Just like I knew with my Margaret here.” He gazed at his wife with undisguised adoration.
They broke each other’s stares, and Thomas beamed with fatherly pride as he looked over at the dark-haired girl. “Beautiful inside and out, just like her mother. We’re truly blessed.”
My eyes flickered involuntarily toward his daughter, who was now dancing with a man in a gray suit. Her silver dress swirled around her legs as she laughed at something he said. Margaret followed my gaze, a knowing smile on her lips, but she didn’t say a word to her husband.
“Well, I’m sure the right girl will come along when the time is right,” she said with a wink. “Just focus on your studies and your future for now.”
I nodded. “Yes, of course, Mrs. Morgan.”
Thomas checked his watch. “Speaking of the future, we should head out soon, my dear. We have that early flight tomorrow. ”
“Duty calls.” She sighed dramatically before leaning in to kiss my cheek. “It was lovely to see you again, Theo. We’ll have to have you all over for dinner soon. Have a Merry Christmas.”
I smiled politely. “You as well. Have a safe trip.”
“It was great seeing you, Theo. I look forward to watching all the great things you accomplish.” Thomas said, giving my hand a firm shake. “Please stick around and enjoy the free champagne.”
I observed them navigating the ballroom, pausing to chat and bid farewell to various guests, including my father.
The perfect power couple.
However, as they approached the exit, a sense of unease gripped me. The information about Petrov’s planned hit weighed heavily on my mind, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to go disastrously wrong.
Finishing my champagne in one gulp, I placed the empty glass on a waiter’s tray and headed toward my father, who was with Asher, Cassian, and a few others. “Dad, can I speak with you for a moment?” I asked quietly, pulling him aside.
He looked at my serious expression with a frown. “What’s going on, son?”
“I’m worried about the Morgans. With the intel on Petrov, I have a bad feeling. Maybe we should offer them an escort home tonight, just to be cautious.”
My father paused, then shook his head. “Thomas has his security team. He wouldn’t want us to make a scene. You know how proud he is.”
But, Dad, if something happens to them . . .” I insisted, feeling more and more uneasy.
He placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Nothing will happen, Theo. Thomas has been in this game for a long time. We all have.” His eyes softened slightly. “But I appreciate your concern. It shows you’re thinking like a true member of The Brotherhood, always looking out for our own.”
I nodded, though I still had my doubts. “I understand. I hope you’re right.”