Chapter 2
ROMEO
Iwalked forward without haste, every step deliberate.
Laughter bounced lazily between the high ceilings.
Someone was telling a joke.
Another burst into loud applause.
The rich aroma of roasted meat, expensive wine, and freshly baked bread filled the room.
To anyone else...
It looked like the picture of a wealthy, loving family gathered for an elegant evening meal.
I saw something entirely different.
I saw wolves feasting.
I saw the people who had condemned an innocent boy before he had even been given the chance to defend himself.
Not one chair at that table had ever been left empty for me.
Not once.
Not in ten years.
A bitter smile tugged at the ruined corner of my mouth.
Prison visiting days flashed through my mind with painful clarity.
Every second Wednesday.
The loudspeaker would announce visiting hours.
One by one, hardened criminals disappeared through the steel doors with nervous smiles they tried desperately to hide.
Murderers hugged their wives.
Drug traffickers kissed their children.
Gang leaders laughed with brothers who smuggled cigarettes and cash through carefully rehearsed handshakes.
Some mothers cried. Some fathers offered advice.
Some families simply sat together in silence, grateful to share an hour separated only by reinforced glass.
Those men always returned to their cells carrying something.
A photograph. Fresh clothes. Chocolate. News from home.
Hope.
Even the smallest reminder that someone still remembered their name could keep a man alive inside Ravencliff.
I never had that luxury.
Week after week...
Month after month...
Year after year...
I sat alone inside my cell while the prison emptied around me.
Every announcement of visiting hours became another reminder that I no longer existed to the people who shared my blood.
No letters. No visitors.
No lawyer sent by the family.
No message asking if I was alive.
Not even a priest.
Only silence.
Absolute silence.
It took nearly two years before I finally accepted the truth.
They hadn’t forgotten me. They had abandoned me.
There was a difference.
To them...
I wasn’t imprisoned.
I was already dead.
The realization hadn’t broken me. It had set me free.
Dead men no longer owed loyalty to anyone.
Keegan and Bodgan followed a step behind me while the rest of my men remained outside, securing the perimeter and awaiting my command.
So far, no one had noticed our arrival.
Despite standing only a short distance away, I remained nothing more than a shadow beyond the glow of the dining room.
My gaze swept over the long table without lingering on a single Flynn.
Not my father. Not my grandfather. Not the uncles who had beaten me bloody.
None of them mattered.
There was only one face I searched for.
Yarina.
I found her almost immediately.
The breath caught painfully in my lungs.
Ten long years.
Yet she looked almost exactly as I remembered.
Time had only refined what had already been breathtaking.
Her dark hair fell elegantly over one shoulder in soft waves.
The warm glow of the chandeliers kissed the smooth curve of her cheek.
Her striking Russian features remained as sharp as ever, carrying that quiet strength that had first captivated me all those years ago.
Those deep, expressive eyes...
The same eyes that had looked at a frightened boy and somehow found something worth loving.
Then my eyes found Sergei.
My brother.
He was seated beside Yarina.
Far too close.
Their shoulders were only inches apart, close enough that they nearly touched.
The sight sent something dark twisting inside my chest.
A cold, possessive fury I hadn’t felt in ten years.
He had no right.
No right to sit beside her. No right to speak to her.
No right even to breathe the same air as the woman who had remained loyal to me when the rest of the world had buried my name.
My stomach twisted.
I watched his hand reach casually toward her.
His thumb brushed gently across the corner of her mouth.
A tiny breadcrumb.
He smiled as he wiped it away with effortless familiarity.
“There.”
His voice carried softly across the table.
“You’ve got a habit of forgetting you’re eating.”
Yarina offered him a polite smile. “Thank you.”
She reached automatically for her napkin.
The gesture lasted barely two seconds.
It felt like someone had driven a blade through my chest.
Every muscle in my body locked.
Heat surged through my veins so violently I thought my skin might split apart.
That bastard.
The same hands that had pushed my sister toward death...
Now touched the woman I loved.
My vision darkened around the edges.
If Keegan hadn’t shifted subtly beside me, I might have crossed the room and ripped Sergei’s arm from its socket with my bare hands.
Instead...
I breathed.
One slow breath.
Then another.
No.
Not yet.
Death would come soon enough.
I wanted him afraid first.
I walked forward until I stood directly beneath the enormous crystal chandelier hanging above the center of the room.
Golden light spilled over me.
I wanted every Flynn to see exactly who had returned.
The room gradually fell silent.
One cousin frowned first.
Then an aunt turned her head.
A servant carrying wine froze in place.
A crystal glass slipped from trembling fingers. It shattered against the marble floor.
The sharp crack echoed through the room.
Every conversation stopped. Every head turned.
Dozens of eyes fixed upon me.
Recognition spread slowly.
Then all at once.
A chorus of horrified gasps filled the hall.
The colour drained from nearly every face at the table.
It was as though they had seen a ghost walk in from the grave.
Which, in a way...
They had.
“Romeo...”
The name escaped Father’s mouth first.
Barely a whisper.
Disbelief widened his eyes as he slowly rose from his chair.
For the first time in my life...
Medved Flynn looked genuinely shaken.
His gaze swept over my scarred face.
The ruined eye.
The prison tattoos disappearing beneath my collar.
The broad shoulders forged by ten years of violence.
Then his attention shifted toward Keegan.
Toward Bodgan.
Recognition quickly turned into anger.
“What in God’s name...”
His voice hardened. “...are ye doin’ here?”
Medved’s eyes narrowed.
“Keegan.”
“Bodgan.”
“We banished both of ye from this family years ago.”
He glanced toward the entrance where armed silhouettes waited beyond the doorway.
“What the hell is the meaning of this?”
Silence answered him.
I didn’t acknowledge his questions.
Didn’t even look at him.
He had forfeited the right to my attention a decade ago.
Instead...
My eyes remained fixed on Sergei.
At first...
Shock held his expression hostage.
His wineglass remained suspended halfway to his lips.
His face had turned almost ghostly white.
For a heartbeat...
He actually looked frightened.
Then...
Slowly...
The fear vanished.
The corner of his mouth lifted.
A familiar smirk spread across his face.
The very same smile he had worn while watching the police drag me away in chains.
The smile of a man convinced he’d gotten away with murder.
His gaze drifted deliberately toward Yarina.
He leaned slightly closer to her. Not enough to alarm anyone else. Just enough for me to notice.
A calculated provocation.
His fingers brushed lightly against the back of her chair.
Possessive. Mocking.
His eyes returned to mine.
The message couldn’t have been clearer.
She’s with me now.
Something inside me snapped.
Very well.
He had murdered my sister. Framed me for the crime.
Stolen ten years of my life.
And now he had the audacity to sit beside the only woman who had kept me alive through every endless day inside Ravencliff.
A quick death would have been an undeserved mercy.
Sergei Flynn deserved far worse.
He deserved to live with the same fear, helplessness, and despair he had condemned me to.
He deserved to watch everything he valued crumble before his eyes.
But seeing him act as though Yarina belonged to him shattered the last thread of restraint I possessed.
Ten years of rage, humiliation and grief shattered whatever restraint I had left.
Before anyone realized I had moved, my hand shot to Keegan’s belt.
Steel whispered as I ripped the combat dagger free from its sheath.
Keegan didn’t even flinch.
He knew exactly what was about to happen.
Time seemed to slow.
Sergei looked up just as my arm snapped forward.
The dagger left my hand like a bullet.
It spun once.
Twice.
Then—
Thunk.
The blade buried itself to the hilt between Sergei’s eyes.
For a heartbeat, nobody moved.
Sergei’s mouth fell open.
His wineglass slipped from his fingers and shattered across the marble floor.
His eyes widened in utter disbelief, as though he couldn’t comprehend that death had found him before he had the chance to speak.
A wet, choking sound escaped his throat.
Blood trickled down the bridge of his nose before pouring freely over his face.
His body rocked backward.
Then sideways.
He crashed onto the polished floor with a sickening thud, his chair splintering beneath him.
Dead before his body stopped moving.
Absolute silence.
The only sound was the slow drip...
...drip...
...drip...
of blood spreading across the marble.
Then chaos erupted.
“No!”
My father’s roar shook the dining hall.
Medved Flynn stumbled around the table so violently his chair toppled behind him.
“Sergei!”
He dropped to his knees beside the body, cradling his favorite son’s head as though he could somehow wake him.
His expensive suit was instantly soaked with blood.
His hands trembled.
“Sergei!”
His voice cracked.
“No... no, son... look at me!”
He grabbed desperately at the dagger’s handle before freezing, finally realizing the blade had pierced deep into bone.
There was nothing left to save.
My grandfather surged halfway to his feet, his weathered face drained of every trace of color.
“Doctor!”
His voice trembled with panic.
“Somebody call the doctor!”
He looked wildly toward the servants gathered near the doorway.
“Now!”
As if any doctor alive could restore a man whose brain had just been split apart.
One of my uncles staggered backward, knocking over his chair.
Another crossed himself repeatedly, lips moving in silent prayer.