35. Michael
Michael
NEW YEAR’S EVE, NYC
The ballroom was a cathedral of excess—gilded ceilings, chandeliers like upside-down galaxies, champagne flowing like water. The countdown was still hours away, but the tension in the air was already thick.
I saw Brett first.
His tux was sharp, his jaw clenched as he paced like he was seconds away from throwing someone through the ice sculpture of the Empire State Building. Given the way his eyes were locked on Claire, it wouldn’t have shocked me in the least.
She stood beneath one of the illuminated garlands, looking like sin in satin—her lips red, her laugh effortless, her hand tucked into the crook of Remi Guerra’s elbow. She had balls coming as his plus-one. I’d give her that.
Remi fucking Guerra.
The bastard had to be fifty if he was a day, all silver hair and a predator’s smile. His hand rested too low on her back, too comfortable and familiar. He was the rival casino boss from Redwood River who’d been trying to edge into my territory for years—and now he had his claws in Brett’s girl.
Brett looked like he was going to rupture something.
“She’s with him—with him?” he growled, his voice barely audible beneath the band’s jazz rendition of “Feeling Good.”
I smirked. “He’s in his prime, Brett.”
“She’s twenty-nine.”
“He has silver in his hair.”
A new voice joined us, laced with venom and champagne.
“He’s a silver fox, Brett…”
Krystal.
I didn’t have to look at her to picture the smug twist of her lips or know her manicured claws were sinking into my arm as if she owned it.
I gave her a glance cold enough to freeze the champagne in her glass.
“Let go.”
“Oh, come on,” she purred, rubbing her body against mine like a cat in heat. “Dance with me. Just one song. Make me yours again tonight?—”
Her voice turned sharp.
“Or I’ll tell my uncle you’re not upholding your end of the engagement.”
I turned toward her and removed her grip one finger at a time.
“Really, Krystal?” My voice dropped low enough to quiet a few of the people standing nearby. “You’re going to run to your uncle and cry because I’m not taking you to bed? That’s your power move? How sophisticated of you.”
Her mouth parted in a gasp.
I stepped closer, letting her see the fury beneath the polished suit and expensive cologne.
“Let me make one thing very fucking clear. My body does not belong to your tribal contract. My loyalty does. You want a wedding ring? I’ll put it on your finger and buy you a castle. But you will never have my soul, and you sure as hell won’t have my bed or my body.”
Then I walked away.
I didn’t look back to see whether she followed. She wouldn’t—not while I was burning, and she knew she’d turn to ash if she stepped too close.
The ballroom glittered around me as though nothing had happened. The band played louder. Champagne glasses were refilled. Hundreds of people laughed beneath gold streamers, waiting for a new year they assumed would be better than the last.
Brett remained near the ice sculpture, but his attention hadn’t moved from Claire. Remi bent to whisper something in her ear, and she smiled. Brett’s hand tightened around his glass until I expected the stem to snap.
“Don’t,” I told him.
His eyes cut toward me. “Don’t what?”
“Whatever you’re planning.”
“You’re one to talk.”
Fair enough.
The lights dimmed before I could answer. A massive clock appeared across the screens above the ballroom, and the band surrendered the room to the countdown.
Ten.
The crowd surged toward the dance floor. Krystal appeared at my side again, positioning herself beneath my arm for the photographers waiting to capture the happy couple’s midnight kiss.
Nine.
I stepped away from her.
Eight.
Her expression hardened, but the cheering swallowed whatever threat she made next.
Seven.
Six months ago, fireworks had exploded over Bayview while a blonde stranger stood in my arms. I hadn’t known her name, what she owned, or how completely she would alter every plan I’d made for my life.
Six.
Kate had tasted like wine and summer beneath those fireworks. She had vanished before morning, leaving me certain I would find her again.
I had been right about that.
Wrong about everything else.
Five.
Somewhere beyond the city, she was beginning the new year without me. Maybe she was with her friends. Maybe she was sitting beside a quiet fire with Amber sleeping at her feet.
Maybe she wasn’t thinking about me at all.
Four.
The possibility should have made letting her go easier.
It didn’t.
Three.
Krystal grabbed my lapel, preparing to pull me down to her mouth.
I caught her wrist.
“Don’t.”
Two.
Her smile remained fixed for the cameras, but murder flashed in her eyes.
One.
The ballroom erupted.
Confetti rained from the ceiling. The band launched into “Auld Lang Syne,” and couples kissed beneath a shower of gold while fireworks burst beyond the windows.
I released Krystal and raised my glass without drinking.
Everyone around me celebrated the promise of a clean beginning.
I knew better.
A new year didn’t erase the choices that brought you to it. It didn’t restore trust or return the woman you loved. It only drew a line through time and forced you to keep moving.
Outside, fireworks painted the sky in the same colors that had burned over Bayview the night I met Kate.
That midnight had sounded like a beginning—her laughter beneath the fireworks, water moving against the docks, her breath catching when I kissed her.
This one sounded like an ending.
Behind me, the band played and the crowd sang, but none of it reached me.
Without Kate, midnight had no melody.
She had taken the music with her. I understood what she meant more now than ever—how grief could steal it from your soul. She was the melody of my heart.
Krystal was already explaining our missing kiss to the photographers. Brett had disappeared from his perch beside the ice sculpture. Claire was noticeably absent as well, leaving Remi standing alone.
At least one of us had decided not to let midnight pass without a fight.
I set down my untouched champagne and left the ballroom before anyone could stop me.
A new year waited on the other side of those doors.
For the first time in my life, I had no idea how to claim the one thing I wanted from it.
It was bitter out. One of those cold winter mornings where the wind cut through even my wool coat, and the sky looked like slate, bruised and heavy with snow it hadn’t dropped yet.
I was in my office at the casino, sipping black coffee that had long gone cold, going over expansion plans and security updates. Trying—unsuccessfully—not to think about her. About Kate.
Then Vito knocked once and opened the door. “He’s here.”
I didn’t need to ask who. Only one man walks in uninvited.
Councilman Red Elk.
He came in dressed like always—tailored navy suit, bolo tie with a silver clasp, and that poker face carved from stone. A powerful man with tribal legacy, and new empire to protect. He didn’t sit. Just stood in front of my desk, hands on his belt like he was still in the damn Wild West.
“I’m still angry you lost the land deal,” he said flatly.
“I’ll get it back,” I replied.
“No,” he said, voice like steel. “You won’t. Not by yourself.”
I frowned. “Then why are you here?”
“Because I have bigger plans.” He stepped closer, his dark eyes burning with something I couldn’t quite name. “You and Krystal? It’s not just about smoothing things over anymore. It’s about legacy.”
I leaned back slowly, the air shifting in the room.
“I don’t just want just a wedding band on her finger by summer,” he continued, “I want a baby in her belly.”
My stomach clenched. He kept going like a freight train with no brakes.
“I want a new generation. Our bloodlines merged. My niece is a quarter tribal by blood. You’re the mob. You’ve developed this land. But I’m making sure it stays with us. With our family. Our blood. You understand?”
I said nothing. Just stared at him as the pressure behind my eyes throbbed.
“This empire? Yours and mine? It survives not by ink and contracts. It survives by blood. I want a child. And I will be checking the DNA when it’s born.”
I stood slowly, jaw clenched, fists flexing at my sides. “You come into my office and speak about my future like it’s a business merger?—”
“Because it is,” he cut me off. “You were busy screwing that blonde while Krystal’s brother was busy locking down this council. You took your eyes off the game. I don’t care who you love, Waters. I care about legacy. About power. And about what’s owed.”
He turned toward the door, pausing long enough to deliver the final blow over his shoulder.
“You’ll marry her. You’ll breed her. Or I’ll take out Kate. I’ll deliver her grave if you don’t an heir. Krystal is prepared to make it work. Are you?”
Then he was gone. The door clicked shut. The silence left behind wasn’t empty—it roared.
I stood there, heart pounding, fingers numb with rage.
Breed her?
DNA test.
He might as well have held a gun to my head.
And the worst part?
I couldn’t say no.