Page 53 of Seeking Shadows

But then his hand moves—fingertips brushing my jaw before curling under my chin, lifting my face to his.

“But I hate more,” he murmurs, “how it wouldn’t actually change a thing.”

My breath catches.

“You could turn into the villain,” he says, eyes burning into mine, “and I would still be here.”

He leans in closer, mouth barely touching mine. “Because I can’t stop craving you.”

CHAPTER 11

ZANE

The warehouse smelled like blood and oil—old stains on concrete that never quite faded. Shadows clung to the walls, and I stood in the middle of them like I belonged there.

Leather jacket. Gloves. Neutral face. But inside, I was burning.

Nico Riviera arrived late, of course. Always did. The man walked like time bowed to him—slow, deliberate, the echo of his expensive shoes slicing through the silence like a dare.

“Reign,” he greeted, voice smooth as aged whiskey and twice as toxic. “You’ve been making noise.”

I didn’t answer. Just looked at him, jaw locked, gaze cool. Every part of me a performance. Reign Mitchell was composed. Strategic. Dangerous. Not the boy who wanted to rip out the heart of the man standing in front of him.

“I thought we had an understanding,” he continued, circling me like a vulture. “I grant you my blessing to expand your reach. You get protection, ports, silence. In exchange, I get loyalty. Respect. Partnership.”

I didn’t flinch. “You pushed product through my lines without telling me. That wasn’t partnership. That was betrayal.”

He laughed. Low. Condescending. “You’re emotional. I forget sometimes—you’re still young. New. But I’ve been at this longer than you’ve been alive. Don’t confuse control with disloyalty.”

“You think I can’t tell the difference?” My voice was calm. Too calm. “You don’t get to make moves in my house and call it a gift.”

That’s when he smiled. That sharp, knowing smile of a man who thought he held every string. Who thought he owned me.

“Speaking of gifts…” He stepped in close—too close. “How is she? My daughter. Mia.”

Every muscle in my body locked. But I kept my face blank.

He leaned in like he was telling me some goddamn joke. “Pretty little thing, isn’t she? I bet she’s been... entertaining. I trust you’re enjoying what I sent.”

My fists curled in my pockets. My throat locked.

“She wasn’t yours to send,” I said, flat. Barely above a whisper.

He chuckled. “She was mine the moment she was born. And now she’s yours. That’s how this world works. You think I care who you put your hands on, Reign? She’s a chess piece. A ribbon around a deal. Don’t start pretending you’re some kind of saint.”

You vile, rotting bastard.

My blood roared in my ears. In my mind, I saw it—I saw myself dragging him to the ground, smashing his smug face into the floor until nothing was left but pulp and bone. I wanted to kill him. Wanted to watch the light leave his eyes and whisper Mia’s name as he choked on his own blood.

But I stayed still.

“You’re confusing me with someone who tolerates that kind of talk,” I said, quiet. Deadly. “Try it again, and we’ll see if your blood still looks red when it hits the floor.”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you threatening me?”

“I’m warning you.” I didn’t blink. “There’s a difference.”

A long pause.

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