Chapter Four
KONFLICT KORVEN
Serenity walked out of that room and left the door ajar behind her.
For a long second I just stood there, trying to catch up with what the fuck had just happened.
My heart was still beating hard from the way her words hit when she told me she would sit and wait for me to come end her life without flinching.
I had always seen her as a princess. A quiet little piece of porcelain tucked behind Veylor walls.
Tonight, she looked me in the face, told me I was weak, and walked away without shaking.
No one talked to me like that. Not a single soul.
And the worst part was that a piece of me respected it.
I was twelve the first time I saw Serenity.
There had been one of those neutral gatherings at a shared estate, where we were allowed in the same space as the enemy’s kids.
My father still pulled me aside before we left the house and reminded me I had to stay the fuck away from the Veylor children.
I walked in there with those words fresh in my head.
Then I saw her by the pool. Something about her held my attention and refused to let it go.
I told myself to look away, to remember she was a Veylor.
I tried and failed. I kept watching her drift near the deep end and in one heartbeat she was there, the next she was gone.
She hit the water, but nobody noticed she hadn’t come back up.
Something locked tightly in my chest, something that had nothing to do with hate, and my feet were already moving before my mind had the chance to choose a side.
I hit the water, diving down and grabbing for her, my fingers closing around thin arms. She was struggling with panic, her lungs probably burning.
I pulled her up, broke the surface, then shoved her toward the edge.
She started to breathe again, coughing and choking, but her hands clung to my arm like she couldn’t let go.
For a second, those big eyes, full of fear, quietly begged me not to let her go.
So I didn’t.
I hauled her out, made sure she caught her breath, and told her to be more careful. Once I saw she was okay, I disappeared before anyone could figure out that a Korven heir had just saved a Veylor girl from drowning. My heart was beating so hard it hurt.
I managed to get new clothes from the maids without raising my father’s suspicion about why I was soaked.
He would have torn into me if he knew what I’d done and reminded me that every Veylor alive was just one more chance for them to spit in our face.
But it wasn’t like my father would have wanted to see an eight-year-old girl drown in that pool.
Even with all the family rivalry, he wasn’t as cruel as people thought, still I was sure he’d rather some adult be the one to pull her out when she fell in.
But that was never going to happen, because the minute I saw her, I knew I wanted to protect her. Every part of me did.
That day I understood something I never said out loud.
I could not watch her die.
As the years went by, I kept tabs on her without even meaning to.
Every time our families ended up in the same room, my instincts found her before my eyes did.
I watched her grow into a woman so beautiful it pissed me off anytime I saw a man talking to her, laughing with her, or even breathing the same air, because I never got the chance to be close to her myself.
I heard whispers about her studies and how her father kept her away from the darkest parts of his world.
I told myself it was just strategy to know the enemy’s princess.
Deep down, I knew that was a lie. I was drawn to her, and I hated that truth, even then.
Then my mother died with Veylor bullets in her chest, and whatever softness had been growing inside me turned to stone. Vince Veylor took the only angel I ever had. From that day, I promised myself I would take his.
When the council forced this marriage on me, it felt absurd.
I walked into the honeymoon suite on our wedding night with rage still burning in my throat.
But my heart skipped a beat the moment my eyes landed on her.
She was sitting on the bed, her golden-brown complexion glowing under the low light, curves wrapped in fabric so thin my hands twitched just thinking about what was underneath.
Her deep brown eyes were wide, hopeful, and scared all at once.
She looked beautiful, tempting, just… perfect.
And she was every dream I shouldn’t have had while planning a murder.
I stepped closer when I should have walked away.
Her soft and warm scent hit me first, something sweet mixing in, making my pulse kick up hard.
Her chest was rising and falling fast. Her mouth parted when I touched her face, my thumb sliding over her lips.
My mind kept spinning with images of that mouth crushed against mine, that body under me, that voice breaking on my name.
I wanted to pull her into my lap, rip that nightdress off, press my hands into her thighs and feel and feel and feel how tight her pussy would be around my fingers—to lose myself, going under until I was so deep inside her she forgot her own last name.
I wanted her so bad it scared me.
That was the moment I knew if I did not build a wall between us, she would become something I could never allow myself to let go.
So, I did what I do best—I turned the blade on her and told her I would never touch her.
I would wait for the law to cut this marriage loose so I could kill her with clean hands.
Her eyes shattered right in front of me, and a piece of my chest pulled tight in a way I refused to name.
I walked out because staying meant breaking every promise I had made.
I moved across the city and stayed out of the estate unless business dragged me there.
I hated that I desired her. Hated that my body went hot every time her face crossed my mind.
Hated that I could picture her on that bed more often than I pictured putting a bullet between her eyes.
Distance was the only way I trusted myself not to reach for what I was determined to destroy.
But even when I decided to put distance between us, I kept an eye on her.
I knew when she left the estate, where she went and who she met.
That’s how I knew when Viking ran his mouth in the casino and disrespected her.
My men watched him try to stand over her after she had already stripped him of his title.
By the time the report hit my phone, rage had already settled in my veins.
He insulted my wife. He insulted my name and my house.
I had Viking picked up on his way home—there are some lessons you only teach once. By the time the sun rose, there was an empty spot in security and the whole city had a fresh reminder: you do not raise your voice at Konflict Korven’s wife.
Tonight, when I walked into the gala with Eleana on my arm, it was supposed to remind the council that I might sit at their table, but my life was mine. Bringing Eleana was a message, a clear warning that I wasn’t some obedient puppet who would play dutiful husband for their peace show.
Still, I had no intention of gutting my wife in front of the city.
But when I came through those doors and saw her face—her eyes going wide, her mouth tightening, the humiliation she swallowed just to keep her chin up—it did something I wasn’t ready for.
I felt pissed. Not at her. At myself. At the entire fucked-up chain of events that dragged us here.
I’d hurt her on purpose before, more times than I bothered to count, but tonight it landed differently.
It hit in a place I didn’t want touched.
I walked back into the ballroom, replaying her words in my head while the music kept playing. I automatically scanned the room for her. She was gone and I couldn’t blame her for leaving. I also could not stand the fact that it bothered me.
I headed for the Big Six table where Hollister, Draven, Marquette, and Crowhurst were seated.
And then there were the Sawyer’s, sitting at the table only because they were trying to force their way into the council and take the seat the Veylor’s once held.
The father, Senior, sat with a stiffness that looked rehearsed, his suit too polished to hide how desperate he was to be seen as an equal.
His son, Seylan, held his glass with the careless confidence of a man who had not yet realized he had made the stupidest move of his life.
He was tall, about my height, with caramel skin and a handsome face that most women would fall for without a second thought.
Judging by his looks and the way he carried himself, I doubted he had any trouble getting women into his bed.
Maybe that’s why he thought he could be reckless enough to approach what belongs to me.
I’d heard he was three years older than me, but I was ready to show him just how much of a little boy he was in my eyes, and why he ought to be very careful how he moved around here.
Eleana settled into the chair beside mine the moment I sat, waiting for attention I would never give her. I didn’t look at her. My focus stayed locked on her brother.
“…we bring strong numbers through our private galleries and offshore collections,” Senior was saying, leaning slightly toward Judge Marquette.
“Our networks are stable. Our partnerships run deep across cultural foundations, private buyers, and international curators. We believe our presence could restore the balance that was lost when Veylor fell.”
Marquette and Hollister listened closely. Crowhurst pretended to be interested, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. Draven looked so bored he was watching everyone else instead of the speaker.