Family always comes first.
That's what my father had said when I'd flown back for Daniel's funeral. My brother, dead at thirty-two from a bullet meant for someone else. Wrong place, wrong time. And suddenly, I wasn't Eric who worked construction and dated a dancer with red hair and a laugh that could light up a room. I was Eric Hale, heir to the Hale syndicate, weapon in my father's arsenal.
I'd blocked Ivy's number on the flight home. Deleted my socials before the casket was even in the ground. Because if I'd heard her voice, if I'd seen her face, I would've broken. And I couldn't afford to break. Not when my family needed me. Not when the only way to keep her safe was to disappear completely.
She deserved better than the world I came from. Better than the blood on my hands and the bodies I'd learned to stack without flinching.
But standing here now, watching the empty space where her car had been, I wondered if I'd been lying to myself all along.
Maybe I'd just been a coward. Afraid of something real, something I couldn't control with a bullet or power. Something special.
I shoved my phone back in my pocket and headed for my own vehicle. Black sedan, nondescript, the kind that blended in anywhere. Perfect for a man who needed to keep a low profile while he scoped out potential allies… or enemies.
Ironstone was a powder keg waiting for a spark. Two major families ran this city: the Donatis, now in bed with the Savocas, and the Malatestas. Old blood, old grudges, and an alliance sofragile it might as well have been made of glass. My father wanted in. Wanted to know if there was room for expansion, whether either family could be leveraged or, if necessary, overthrown.
He'd sent me to be his eyes and ears. To make contact, feel out the situation, report back.
I'd been here three days. Long enough to know the Donatis held the city with an iron fist, that Leo Donati was young but ruthless, and that his father Canzio had built an empire on fear and respect in equal measure. Long enough to hear whispers about the Malatestas and the cracks forming in the family from inner betrayal and squabbling.
And long enough to run into Ivy Halloway in a downtown bar.
I started the engine, but I didn't pull out.
She'd looked good. Too good. The years had sharpened her edges, turned the softness I remembered into something leaner, fiercer. She'd always been fire, but now she burned hotter. More dangerous.
And the way she'd looked at me, part rage, part… something else, had hit like a fist to the gut.
Did you move on?
I'd had no right to ask that. No right to care. But the question had slipped out anyway, because some part of me needed to know. Needed to hear her say yes, so I could finally let go of the ghost I'd been carrying.
She hadn't said yes.
I pulled out of the parking lot, heading back toward the hotel where I was staying. The streets were quiet, most of the late-night traffic concentrated in the bar district I'd just left. Ironstone was smaller than home, but it had the same feel. The same undercurrent of violence just beneath the surface, waiting for someone to poke it.
My phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen.
Father.
I considered ignoring it, but that wasn't how this worked. I answered, putting it on speaker.
"Eric."
"Sir."
"Have you made contact yet?"
Straight to business. Always straight to business. "Not yet. I'm still gathering intel. The Donatis are the stronger organization, but the Malatestas have connections we could exploit."
"Time is money, son. I need results, not observations."
My jaw tightened. "I'm aware."
"Good. I expect a full report by the end of the week. And Eric?"
"Sir?"
"Don't get distracted."
