Chapter 1

The pregnancy test slipped from my fingers as Iwan Eaton walked in.

He still carried the scent of rain and gunpowder. The cuffs of his black shirt were stained with blood, and his cold, sharp gaze made him look like he'd come back from a raid.

A woman followed him in.

She wore a burgundy dress and an obsidian snake-shaped necklace around her neck. Her smile was elegant, but there was a cruel edge to it.

Iwan placed a metal keycard on the table.

"Phoebe, move to Southport Villa," he said.

I looked at him and asked, "Why?"

He was silent for a couple of seconds before speaking in a low voice.

"Next week, I'm getting engaged to Kristen Forrest," he said.

The room went silent.

I looked down at the pregnancy test in my hand. I was six weeks along.

The doctor said the embryo was healthy.

I was planning to wait for him to come back and tell him we were having a baby.

Kristen spotted the paper first and gave a low chuckle. "Mr. Eaton, looks like your little canary has been hiding a surprise."

Iwan's expression shifted, and he reached for the pregnancy test.

I avoided his hand and asked, "You're really going to marry her?"

He frowned. "The Forrest family controls the military supply line at the East Pier. If I want to take over the Black Crow Syndicate, I have to marry into their family."

"So what am I to you?" I asked.

He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Stay with me. I can't make you my official woman, but I can keep you safe."

I laughed. "And what if I could protect you too?"

A flicker of exhaustion crossed Iwan's eyes.

He said, "Phoebe, don't say things like that. You're just the girl I picked up from the underground boxing ring."

But he seemed to have forgotten something.

Eighteen years ago, the only daughter of the godfather of Bocrea's biggest gang, the Azure Flame Alliance, was kidnapped by a rival gang.

The whole underworld put a bounty on her for ten years, but she was never found, dead or alive.

And I was that missing daughter, Phoebe Hawking.

*****

Kristen Forrest walked into my tiny apartment like she was inspecting an old warehouse ready for demolition.

She wore black gloves, her fingertips gliding along the edge of a photo pinned to the wall.

In that photo, Iwan Eaton's face was battered and bruised as he sat on my shabby, rented couch, slurping noodles.

That year, he was hunted by a mole in the Black Crow Syndicate and collapsed in the back alley behind the underground boxing ring.

I dragged him through three sewage-filled alleys and stitched him up with twenty-seven stitches.

When he was burning up with fever and barely conscious, he gripped my hand and wouldn't let go.

He said, "Phoebe, when I get the Black Crow Syndicate back, you'll be right next to me."

But as he was finally taking his place at the top, it was Kristen sitting beside him.

Kristen picked up the photo, her smile barely there. "Mr. Eaton, you used to go for the simple type," she said.

I snatched the photo back. "You're not welcome here."

She arched her brow with a hint of challenge in her expression.

Iwan stepped in front of her and said, "Kristen, go downstairs."

Kristen didn't move. She said, "Gotta check out the woman Mr. Eaton's been keeping under wraps for three years before I get engaged."

Her eyes flicked to my stomach. "And see if you're going to be a problem."

I grabbed the hot coffee from the table and hurled it at her.

Kristen sidestepped, and the tea only splashed the hem of her dress.

The two bodyguards outside immediately drew their guns.

Iwan seized my wrist. "Phoebe!"

His grip was so tight, it felt like he was about to crush my wrist.

I stared into his eyes and said, "She called your child trouble."

He let go of my wrist, his face darkening.

Kristen dabbed at the hem of her dress with a tissue.

She said, "Mr. Eaton, the Black Crow Syndicate is falling apart. The Forrest family is offering you eight hundred guns, three sea routes, and a legal laundering shell. If someone catches Ms. Hawking on camera, what do you think your uncles and the elders will say?"

Iwan was silent.

A chill crept through the room.

At last, he broke the silence. "Southport Villa has better security. You'll stay there."

I asked, "How long?"

"Until I take over," he said.

"And when I come back, who will I be to you?" I asked.

He avoided my gaze.

"You'll still be mine," he said.

I let out a laugh.

In the underworld, being "my person" could mean a lover, a pawn, or just someone you could silence whenever you needed.

I picked up the pregnancy test and slowly tore it in half.

"Iwan, on your engagement day, I'll send you a coffin," I said.

Kristen's face darkened.

Iwan's voice turned cold. "Don't make me enforce the syndicate's code on you."

I looked at the gun on his hip and asked, "You're really going to use the Black Crow Syndicate's code against your own wife?"

His eyes widened in shock.

Three years ago, we exchanged rings in an abandoned church.

There was no priest, no guests, just a single candle burning down to its last flicker.

He told me that in our world, marriage vows weren't written on paper. They were sealed in blood.

He sliced open his palm and pressed it to mine.

The scar from that night is still on my hand.

Iwan reached out, wanting to touch me.

I stepped back and said, "Get lost."

His face went pale, and he turned and walked away.

Before leaving, Kristen tossed a black invitation onto the table.

"Ms. Hawking, you shouldn't even think about coming to the engagement party," she said.

As soon as the door slammed shut, I rushed into the bedroom and yanked open the hidden compartment under the bed.

Inside was a bronze firebird ring. It was the emblem of the Azure Flame Alliance heir.

I was about to call the secret number when the sound of screeching brakes came from outside.

Downstairs, Iwan's right-hand man, Sebastian Pope, was staring up at my window.

My phone lost signal in an instant.

Only one line remained on the screen. "No Service."