“Get out,” I said, voice like stone.
He gave a short, mocking bow and left without another word.
I sat heavily in the chair and stared at the envelope like it might bite.
Midgard wasn’t just a cover. It was home or at least, the closest thing I had to one. Colin, Lincoln… I’d known them for over a decade. We’ve stood side by side building this place. Built this place beside them. They thought I was just another wealthy playboy with a taste for control and discipline.
They didn’t know what I really was.
And some days, that secret felt more like betrayal than safety.
I opened the envelope.
Polina Morozov. A face I didn’t recognize, framed in high-resolution surveillance. Pale, elegant features. Sharp eyes. Her club registration—Hecate—highlighted in bold.
I let out a long breath.
Taking down Ivan Morozov would cripple a criminal network that had evaded justice for decades. If Polina was the key, then this was the kind of play that changed the game.
Even if it meant seducing someone who might not deserve it.
Even if it meant lying with the kind of smile that made people believe it was safe to fall.
Even if it meant crossing a line I’d sworn I never would.
Because this time, the mask wouldn’t just be for her.
It would be for me, too.
And I wasn’t sure who I’d be when I finally took it off.
Chapter 3
Polina
It had been three days since I’d stepped into my father’s newest “home”—a brick-and-mortar acquisition disguised as family security but functioning as nothing more than a gilded prison. Three days since I’d smiled like a perfectly polished diamond at his side during the charity gala, my hand delicately looped through his arm as if I were proud to be paraded like one of his prized assets.
On the outside, I’d glittered just as he demanded.
On the inside, I’d seethed.
The humiliation of being caught, of him discovering my extracurricular pursuits, had initially been molten, sharp andfurious. But anger had cooled into something quieter, heavier. A slow burn.
For twenty-four years, I’d clung to the naïve belief that adulthood bought autonomy, that what I did in my own time was my own business. In the real world, that might be true. But in my father’s world, privacy was a myth and independence a dangerous delusion. My illusion shattered the moment his guards locked me in this newest fortress.
So I’d made myself a promise. Not to escape my life as that was impossible. I’d been his shadow too long; he’d find me no matter where I ran. No, my vow was for something smaller, sharper. A taste of freedom. A rebellion, if only for a night.
Two days of feigned sweetness with the household staff and subtle exploration of every hallway, staircase, and side door gave me what I needed: a chance to leave unnoticed. Not to flee forever, but to slip, briefly, into a world of my own choosing.
A world where men didn’t lock me away like a delicate figurine. Where no one called me princess or draped me in silk to keep me safe. A world where I wasn’t untouchable but tangible. Where I could surrender, not to my father’s control, but to something primal, something chosen.
And so I walked through the doorway of Club Midgard, six-inch Louis Vuittons clicking like quiet defiance against the marble floor. I’d received an invitation to an exclusive event, one addressed to Hecate, the name I used at clubs far from my father’s gaze. I’d assumed at first it was a crossover event connected to other places I’d visited, but the name Midgard hooked me immediately.
The expansive hallway ahead of me was a gallery in its own right, lined with Viking artifacts and paintings of Norse gods. The soft, ambient lighting seemed to breathe life into every figure depicted on the walls, turning each brushstroke into something kinetic.
As an art history lover, I slowed, unable to help myself. The fierce Valkyries, warriors descending to retrieve fallen heroes and escort them to Valhalla, had always captured my imagination. They embodied everything I wasn’t allowed to be: fierce, untethered, and free to choose who lived or died by their judgment.
This was a place drenched in myth, but it whispered of power too, raw and modern.
