Page 13

My brothers are scattered around the space, luxurious crystal glasses in hand, laughter echoing off the leather and dark wood.

I instantly shove Alexis, her sharp mouth, and her stinging palm right out of my fucking head as I step across the threshold.

This is my family. Despite the blood, body bags, and constant threat of war that defines our existence, we are each other's anchors.

Most crime dynasties bleed themselves dry chasing power, betraying their own blood for a bigger piece of the pie. Not us. We have each other's backs, no matter what. Nothing in this goddamn city is worth having if the cost is one of our own.

Zeke sits behind his massive mahogany desk, a glass of liquor resting in his palm. As the boss of the Kavanagh family, he usually looks like he carries the weight of the entire Gulf Coast on his shoulders.

But for a while now, there's a subtle calm resting in the lines of his face—a direct result of his absolute obsession with his wife, Riley.

Speaking of obsessions, I'm genuinely surprised to see Malachi sitting across from him. As the second oldest, Zeke’s ruthless strategist, and the mastermind keeping our corporate fronts and alliances locked down against the Devlins and other rivals, Malachi is usually attached at the hip to his own wife, Jade.

I’m not complaining. The two oldest are undeniably happier these days, even if it creeps me the fuck out.

Over by the brass-rimmed bar, Elijah and Levi are busy pouring themselves drinks. Elijah, our cold, calculating fixer, handles the secrets, legal bribes, wiretaps, and quiet cleanups.

Beside him stands Levi—the youngest, the golden boy, and our charismatic broker who uses his lethal charm to keep the politicians, casinos, and elite society wrapped around his finger.

Like me, Elijah and Levi are still bachelors, and I pray we stay that way. Two married men in this family is already two too many.

I’ve watched Ezekiel and Malachi fall, and it proved what I’ve always known: falling in love is a death sentence. Those women are their absolute weaknesses.

I can’t afford a single vulnerability in my line of work. I kill monsters for a living, making fresh enemies every time I pull a trigger.

I’m a lone animal. Built to hunt, built to bleed, built to be alone. Never to love. Ever.

I let the oak door slam shut behind me with a loud, violent crack.

Every single head in the room snaps toward the noise. Their banter cuts off instantly. In unison, four pairs of sharp, calculating eyes drop straight to my raw, blood-soaked knuckles, then track up to settle on my bruised face.

Their eyes narrow.

"Fuck, Cain," Levi drawls, leaning back against the bar and taking a slow sip of his drink, a wicked smirk spreading across his face. "Did you go hit a brick wall, or did a garbage truck run over you on your way in?"

"Looks like he wrestled a bear in an alley and lost," Elijah mutters, his sharp eyes scanning the dried blood on my hand with analytical precision. "And you reek like a walking distillery, brother. Top-shelf rye?"

Zeke sets his glass down with a deliberate clink, leaning his broad forearms on the desk as his dark gaze fixes onto my cheek.

"Who the fuck did you run into tonight, Cain?" Zeke asks, his voice dropping into that quiet, dangerous don register. "And why do you look like someone actually landed a hit on you?"

Well, Alexis did. But I’d be damned before I let a single word of that leave my mouth.

I walk briskly across the room, completely ignoring the smirks on their faces, and lean against the sharp edge of Zeke's desk.

"Nolan is moving openly again," I say, cutting straight to the point and stripping the room of its light atmosphere. "And his younger brothers, Brendan and Lachlan, have returned to New Orleans."

My brothers exchange knowing glances, the playful teasing evaporating in a fraction of a second.

Eli leans off the bar, his eyes narrowing as he studies my face and knuckles. "Is that who you tangled with tonight? You take on the Devlin boys alone?"

I frown, my jaw tightening as the memory of the homeless man and Alexis's sharp slap flashes behind my eyes. "No."

Eli opens his mouth, his calculating face setting up another barrage of questions. "Then who⁠—"

"Fuck, drop it, Eli, damn!" I bark, my voice echoing off the walls.

Eli raises his hands in an easy gesture of surrender, backing off with a light shrug. Levi glides over, handing me a crystal glass sloshing with amber bourbon. I take it and down the burn in one gulp.