Chapter 3
Vince
The shovel hit the dirt for the fiftieth fucking time.
“What the fuck is even down here?” Rome groaned and started again. “We better be digging up a legacy heirloom, man, because this is actual syndicate hell.”
I didn’t answer. My eyes hadn’t left the ground. I hadn’t moved from this section. It had to be here.
From a few yards away, Bastion lifted his head. “You lost a weapon?”
“No.”
“Flash drive? Codes? Something implanted in the guy?”
“No.”
“Then what the fuck—”
“It’s a ring.”
They went silent and stared at me.
“You made us drive an hour into dead zone turf for a ring?” Rome looked at me as if I had lost my mind.
“You said urgent, don’t ask questions. You said ‘bring gloves and a shovel, I’ll explain later.
” He turned toward me, wiped sweat off his forehead.
“You failed to mention we’d be digging for a goddamn trinket. ”
“It’s not a trinket,” I crouched lower, brushing dirt away with one hand. “It slipped off during the fight. Went flying.”
“Jesus,” Luca muttered. “How hard did you hit him?”
“Hard enough to break his jaw in three places.”
“Nice,” Bastion said. “Still not an excuse to lose jewelry.”
I ignored him. Because I heard his tone.
The only present I’ve ever been given, and I lost it like it meant nothing. I should’ve killed the guy twice. Once for what he did. Once for what I lost doing it.
Nikolai was at the edge of the site, arms crossed. “I’m just going to ask once—whose ring?”
I didn’t look up. Sure as fuck didn’t answer.
Rome whistled low. “It’s a girl, isn’t it?”
Luca smirked. “A girl finally marked him?”
I didn’t say a word. None of them would understand. Not unless I told them what it was like to have her slid it onto my finger like it meant something.
I kept digging.
Ten minutes later, I saw it, half-sunken in the dirt. I grabbed it. Wiped it once with my thumb. Slid it back onto my middle finger.
Perfect fit. Just like the night she put it there.
Rome made a noise of disgust. “Thank fuck. Please tell me that was worth it.”
I stood slowly, brushing dust off my pants, staring down at the ring. “It was.”
“You ever going to explain who gave it to you?” Rome tilted his head. They were all watching me.
“Doesn’t matter,” I flexed my fingers once, checking the fit. The soil had dulled the shine, but the weight was right.
I hadn’t taken it off once since she gave it to me. And it fitted my hand better than any weapon.
He rolled his eyes. “Of course not.”
“We have a gun run in two hours,” I changed the subject.
Bastion tapped the roof of the car. “I’ll take the east tunnels and the port route. We’ve got Kingsley product coming in masked through the storage manifests.”
“Underground fight night starts in an hour.” Rome swung his door open. “Got a new tattoo artist in town doing masked bloodline crests. Gonna be a packed.”
“Make sure no one passes out mid-ink again,” Luca said, going to Bastion’s car. “Casino shift’s heating up. Syndicate deals on the line tonight—Nik’s sitting in for the vetting.”
Nikolai nodded once, already distracted, his phone to his ear.
I checked my watch. “Gun exchange in the tunnels at eleven. Bastion, meet me at Entry B. No outsiders.”
They all nodded and disappeared. The moment the car door shut behind me, the silence hit.
It had been weeks.
Three weeks, five days, twelve hours. I knew because I’d checked the phone log. Once. Maybe more. Madeline had sparked my obsession tendencies.
I told myself she was busy. Dynasty girls always were. I looked down at the ring again. The only thing I’d ever been given without asking.
Fuck it. Maybe I should message her first. I pulled out my phone, stared at the screen.
Typed her name.
Deleted it.
Typed it again.
Then shut the screen off. Fuck it.
I opened my contacts and scrolled until I found the boutique line.
It rang twice. “Rousseau,” the assistant answered. “This is Camille.”
“It’s Vincent Crow.”
She went silent like I’d reached through the phone and grabbed her by the throat.
“Yes, Mr. Crow. How can we help you?”
“I want confirmation the heels I purchased were delivered.”
Another pause. Longer. Shuffling in the background.
“Sir, they… haven’t been delivered.”
My blood went cold. “What.”
“The box is here. It’s been packed and ready but we were under the impression someone from your dynasty would collect it.”
“How long?”
“Two weeks, sir. Almost three.”
“And no one, thought to follow up.”
“We… we were told not to disturb your account without express instruction—”
Oh. Fuck. She thought I never sent them. Probably that I’d gone cold. Fuck. Maybe even changed my mind.
“Deliver them. Tonight. In the next hour. Gold foil box. Personal courier. And include the note. The original one.”
“Yes, sir.”
“If anything goes wrong, if the address isn’t confirmed, call me. Immediately. No middleman.”
“Understood.”
I ended the call up. Great. Now, the waiting period had started again.