Page 17 of Vow to Claim You

From the corner of my eye, I catch my brand-new husband staring out his own window. Distant. Detached. As if he’d rather be anywhere but here. I scoff again, quieter this time, because of course he would. He resents this arrangement as much as I do. The air between us is thick, cold, and painfully polite. So painful that I decide to break it.

“Where are we heading?” I glance sideways at him, though experience has already taught me that asking Aric Vold direct questions is rarely the fastest route to answers.

His gaze remains fixed on the city slipping past the darkened window, his expression composed in that severe, almost inhuman way. “Asgard.”

“Asgard?” I repeat, because apparently we’re visiting mythical realms now. “Should I expect Thor to greet us at the entrance, or is Odin handling valet tonight?”

Nothing. Not even a twitch.

“It’s one of our quarters,” he says at last, voice level, as though this should mean something to any sane person. “Scandinavian branch of Olympus.”

I nod slowly, letting the sarcasm steep. “Mm-hmm. Of course. And here I thought the Greek gods were extinct.”

The faintest trace of amusement appears in his gaze, buried deep beneath layers of discipline and temperament sharp enough to cut steel.

“Olympus is the headquarters of The Gods. The society. It’s located in Italy, where the organization operates. Each country has its own gathering place.”

He says it so casually, as though he’s describing a gentleman’s club and not a private league of powerful criminals who’ve crowned themselves divine.

“Why the mythology?” I’m genuinely curious despite myself. “The Gods. Olympus. Asgard. Is someone in your little cult a classics professor in their spare time?”

Aric’s lip twitches; not quite a smirk, but close. “Our Supreme Leader. He has a…passion for mythology. Greek, mostly, but he appreciates all of it. When his father died and he took the reins, he renamed the entire organization. Restructured. Renovated from the ground up.”

“So what is it now?” I can’t help myself. “A Gothic gentleman’s club for sociopaths?”

“The most powerful criminal alliance in the world,” Aric states, either ignoring my sarcasm or immune to it. “Elite ruling dynasties controlling territories, governments, markets. Separate empires under one Council.” The matter-of-factness of it is almost more disturbing than the words themselves. “The Council Leader calls it a self-made pantheon. Olympus, where the gods gather.”

“How poetic,” I murmur. “And humble.”

“Nikos isn’t humble. He likes to believe we’re the gods in the crime world. Gods of corruption.”

“So he, this Nikos, is the founder?”

“His family was one of the founding families. The society itself is older, though. Decades older. It operated under different names before. But he turned it into what it is today.”

I let out a breath that’s almost a laugh. “So he turned it into a shadow government of murderers with a mythology fetish. Charming.”

“Not fetish. Each country deliberately uses different mythological references. Asgard for Scandinavia. Olympus in Italy. Other names elsewhere. It helps obscure the structure. Makes it harder for authorities like Interpol to connect the chapters and see the full network.”

“Clever,” I admit. “And you?” I tilt my head. “Where do you rank in this pantheon of ego?”

“I’m the Second,” he says without pride, without arrogance, just fact. “Second only to the Supreme Leader.”

“Who is?”

“Nikos Romano.”

Ah yes, he’s mentioned Nikos, the mythology enthusiast.

“And what does it mean to be the Second?”

“Operational authority beneath Romano. Second command of the High Council.”

I look at the man beside me. For the first time, I realize just how badly I’ve underestimated him. It seems I married a man whose authority stretches farther than I was led to understand. A man younger than many rulers who nonetheless stands directly beneath the most feared one of all.

My father sold me to monsters.

“So while I was busy resenting my husband,” I say lightly, “I failed to realize I was handed to one of the most powerful criminals alive.”