I duck under Miko’s swing, slam my shoulder into his chest, and send him sprawling onto the mat. He lands with a grunt, rolling to his knees, glaring at me.
“You fight dirty,” he growls.
“Just like you taught me to,” I shoot back, offering him my hand.
He ignores it and stands on his own, brushing sweat from his chest.
Raf’s watching me now, really watching, the way he does when he’s trying to read me. I meet his stare without flinching. He knows. He always knows. The beast is awake. It’s pacing inside me, restless, hungry. It wants blood, wants release, and the only thing that truly satisfies it is violence. The ring takes the edge off, but war is what feeds it.
I’ve lived with this insatiable hunger since I was a boy. Since our father first looked at me with disgust and told me I would have to stop talking like an imbecile if I wanted to bear the honor of the Chiaroscuro name. For three years, I was forbidden to speak in his presence. He wouldn’t even look at me until I could do it without faltering.
And even then, I knew I was a disappointment. I was never like my brothers—I didn’t crave power, didn’t feel the need to talk unless absolutely necessary. Because I’ve always found words… difficult to voice.
I liked peace. I liked quiet. And for that, my father despised me.
He thought I was weak.
So, even after he chose to let me keep our family name, he did his best to beat the weakness out of me. He pushed me to my breaking point.
Maybe even past it.
Maybe he’s what cracked me open and released the beast. I suppose I should thank him for that at least. I remember the first time I felt it—really felt it—the rage boiling, the violence demanding to be unleashed. He showed me the power I could wield when I hit back, the strength it gave me to protect my brothers, and when I discovered that, I didn’t stop until blood coated my hands.
The beast never went away after that.
Now it’s who I am, what I am—the mad dog of the family, the one they call when they need someone torn apart. In the end, my father was right. I would rather be a monster than weak. A failure. A burden to my family. My brothers need a weapon that will ensure no one dares to challenge our power ever again. And that weapon is going to be me.
“We hit the house,” I say finally, voice low, rough. “Tonight.”
Raf arches a brow. “Eager, are we?”
Miko gives me a look—half warning, half challenge. “We need to plan it, Sandro. Not just charge in blind.”
“I’m not blind.” My hands curl into fists at my sides. “I know what I’m doing.”
Raf’s mouth twists, not quite a smile. He sees the hunger in me, but he won’t stop it. He knows it’s useful, even if he finds it frustrating to manage sometimes. And he more than anyone wants to destroy the Tanakas. For Genevieve. “We’ll make a plan,” he agrees, nodding to Miko. “But tonight, we start our revenge. One or two of their men, no more. Enough to draw blood without lighting the whole city on fire.”
That’s enough for me. For now.
The beast thrums under my skin, restless but satisfied with the promise. Blood will spill soon. The Tanakas will feel it. And when they do, they’ll know we’re coming for them.
Finally, after months of waiting, we’re ready to take back what’s ours.
And it’s all thanks to the sleeping angel I left thoroughly ruined in my bed.
12
EVI
I sip my coffee slowly, letting the warmth anchor me. The bitterness is familiar, grounding, even though my stomach is a restless knot. Anika watches me with that serene little smile she always seems to wear, like she knows things I don’t. It’s comforting and unnerving all at once.
“Do you need help with anything this morning?” I ask finally. My voice comes out soft, tentative. “In the kitchen, with the house, anything. I’m not really used to…” I trail off, unsure how to finish.
She tilts her head, the motion graceful. “Used to what?”
“Being idle,” I admit with a small shrug. “There’s usually something to do—event planning, running errands, making sure the staff at home stay on top of everything, organizing meals, little tasks…” I swallow and fold my hands in my lap. “I’m not used to sitting around.”
Anika’s smile grows, but there’s warmth behind it, not mockery. “I understand. But you’re newly married, Evi. You don’t need to jump into responsibilities right away. Give yourself a few daysto settle in, adjust. Trust me, you’ll have plenty to handle soon enough.”
