I’m so fucked.
I shove the deranged thoughts out of my head and close my eyes, welcoming the darkness. I can’t do that. Getting pregnant right now would be a disaster for all of us. Me, Roan, Kayla,andthe baby.
I let out a long breath, settling deeper into Roan’s arms, soaking up his warmth, his hold, the way he fits around me sosweetly. Letting him lull me towards sleep before I can think too hard.
I’ll handle everything in the morning. I’ll take the morning-after pill. It will be fine.
For now, I just want to stay in this twisted, perfect moment—wrapped in his heat, drowning in something that feels dangerously close to what I imagine falling in love might feel like.
23
ROAN
I wake up first.
The soft light filtering through the blinds feels almost obscene in how calm and peaceful it is, like the world hasn’t gotten the memo about what kind of devastating day this is going to be. But I’m awake now, and I know without question that sleep won’t come back to me.
My gaze drifts to the shapely figure beside me.
Katie's lying on her side, facing away from me, the sheet draped over her hip but slipping low enough to expose the curve of her back, and I catch myself staring longer than I should.
She looks like she belongs in my bed. Like this is normal.
Like we didn’t fuck with desperate, grief-fueled intensity last night. Like I didn’t bury myself in someone I should be keeping at arm’s length—someone who walked into my life with a mission, someone who’s been constantly lying to me from day one.My enemy.
And yet… I can’t seem to summon a single drop of regret. I don’t know what the hell that says about me.
She’s not supposed to matter like this. I keep pushing theidea that I’m just using her, that she’s nothing more than a convenient body in my bed, that I’m playing her better than she’s playing me—she doesn’t even know yet that I’m onto her, that I know exactly who she really is.
But then I look at the way she’s curled up so peacefully, relaxed and vulnerable, completely unaware of the war raging inside me, and something in my chest twists.This isn’t how it was supposed to go.I hadn’t meant to fuck her last night of all nights. Hell, I hadn’t meant to touch her at all. But she was there, and I needed to forget. I needed—her.
Unable to resist, I lean over and press a soft kiss to her temple, and I hate how natural it feels. How right. Goddamn it.
I slide out of bed without waking her, then make my way to the bathroom for a quick shower. When I come out, I move as quietly as possible into my walk-in closet and pull on my clothes—black shirt, black pants, belt, watch. Simple. No bullshit.
A deep, hollow ache settles back into my chest the second I emerge from the closet. I’ve been trying not to think about it since last night, desperately trying to outrun the truth by drowning myself in sex and silence—but the truth isn’t going anywhere. My father is gone.
And today is the world’s first morning without him in it.
My first morning as an orphan.Huh.
It doesn’t feel real. Not yet.
Part of me still expects to see him when I walk past his office, sitting in his chair like a king on a throne, bitching about me taking over his workload and leaving him with nothing meaningful to do. But I know that’s not going to happen. I spent the better part of yesterday inAtë’s room with his lifeless body while Jonas and his team pumped the embalming fluid into his veins, preserving what was left.
The whole estate feels different today. There’s a somber note hanging in the air, heavy and oppressive. Like the placeitself is holding its breath, waiting for something to break. My men move quietly when they think I’m watching, voices deliberately low. Some already know the news. Others can probably sense something terrible has happened just from the atmosphere.
When I reach the main house, I hesitate at the front door—just for a second, just long enough to steel myself—then turn the handle and walk in. Everything feels off inside, his absence already deeply felt even in the silence.
The men I pass in the hallways don’t say much. Some look at me and nod respectfully, acknowledging the change. Others carefully avoid my eyes, not sure how to navigate what comes next. Most already know I’ve been in charge the past few weeks, but some still see me as the son, not the boss.
That changes today.
I text Dhimiter to get all the men into the main house as I head to the great hall. But word must’ve spread faster and further than I imagined, because most of them are already assembling there when I arrive.
I stand in front of them and clear my throat, unsure where to even start with so many eyes fixed on me, full of unspoken questions. “Some of you knowShefihad a medical scare a few months ago,” I begin, my voice steady, even though I feel anything but. “I had to take over many of his responsibilities because his doctor advised him to step back and take it easy due to high blood pressure. Yesterday morning… he had a heart attack. Died before anyone could get to him.”
No one moves or speaks, the silence so complete I can hear my own heartbeat. I give them a moment to process the news before I continue. “We’ll hold a funeral in a few days. I’ll share more details soon—the time, the place, all the necessary arrangements. For now, I want you all focused on one thing: protecting this estate and everyone in it.”
