**Chapter 5** **Damon** I take a moment to adjust my overwhelming desire before following Misty into the pulsing heart of the crowd. By the time I hit the main room, she’s already gliding through the throngs of bodies, her laughter ringing like music—full-bodied, uninhibited, a sound that strikes a chord deep within me. River tosses a line her way, and she throws her head back in that contagious laugh, radiating a sense of freedom I’ve rarely tasted. The sight of Alex joking with her had ignited a flame of fury in me at first—the kind of relationship they shared felt too comfortable, too intimate. Jealousy gnawed at me, driving me to intervene on his ambition for captaincy before I learned that his heart was wrapped up with River and Mia in a secret affair. But my jealousy morphed into relief when Misty confided in me about their relationship, fearing my wrath. In those moments, I wasn’t angry—I was exhilarated. Now, I witness their playful banter, the lightness in their teasing; it’s a bond like siblings, one that never seems to extend to me. She keeps a part of herself locked away, always reserved for moments when we're alone. And as our eyes finally meet in the bustling dimness, my breath catches; she is a vision woven from temptation, captivating in her low-cut dress, her sun-kissed skin glowing under the lights, curly strands of pale pink hair framing her face like a halo. She is my universe, and I would happily orbit her every day, but the thin line separating us keeps me at bay, that instant realization that the second I let my lips brush against hers, she would retreat—her instincts too sharp, too wild to stay contained. I need more than this ethereal dance; I need her inexorably bound to me, a bond nobody could sever. I’m not a man who waits patiently, but for her, I’d endure the passage of time. In this cacophony, her friends light up as they surround her. I can see the affectionate teasing and the way her laughter dances through the air, almost tangible. They don’t see what I see—the shadows of fatigue that flicker in her emerald eyes when someone intrudes too swiftly in her space. But I do. To me, she’s incandescent, her rage a blaze of brilliance, unapologetic. She lets her true emotions seep through the facade she wears for the rest of the world, and I wonder if she realizes that in revealing her soul, she is bared only before the very menace that has been molded and darkened by his past. Something unheard, something primal connects us—an understanding far more profound than mere words can convey. As if summoned by my thoughts, Anthony Ricci—scion of the Ricci family and a man steeped in a different kind of darkness—serpentine in his approach, has the audacity to lift her hand, pressing his lips against her skin. A scalding wave of rage roils through me. I stop dead in my tracks as Misty yanks her hand away, a defensive posture taking hold of her. She’s smart; she senses the predatory air surrounding him and crosses her arms protectively over her chest. There’s something in her stance that feels like a warning to the unwelcome heir. “Dam, we’re heading out,” Xander, my youngest brother, greets, sidling up to me, but my focus remains locked on Misty standing defiantly between Lucas and River. I’ve seen enough. I step forward, ready to intervene, but Matthias’s hand lands like iron on my arm, anchoring me in place. “Relax. Too many eyes here,” he murmurs, his voice a cool counter to the fire raging inside me. I shoot him a fierce look, but he grips tighter. We’ve been through too much together for me to test his resolve, and I begrudgingly loosen my posture slightly. “I’m not moving until she’s safe,” I growl back at him. “She’s fine, brother,” Matthias replies steadily, eyebrow raised in that familiar brotherly way that only he can pull off. “You’ve got to chill. You’re radiating stress.” I disregard Bash’s attempts to lighten the mood, my gaze fixed on Matthias, determined. “Shut it down.” His expression tightens, understanding my unyielding command. “Seriously? That’s the entire building, you know.” I don’t care. My future wife should never be anywhere near that tyrant. “Damn it, do it.” “Fine. Okay,” he relents, his phone already surging to life in his hand. A few taps later, the piercing wail of the emergency alarm pierces through the revelry, cutting through the vibrant chaos. Staff stream into action, ushering party-goers out with precision while I keep my eyes glued on Misty. “I’ll meet you out back,” I tell my brothers, my feet already moving toward the exit. The night air greets me like a breath of fresh resolve as I step outside, sliding into the shadows. Nicholas is there, guiding her toward the car while Misty glances over her shoulder. Her gaze flicks towards my hidden presence, sensing the weight of my stare. It’s as if an invisible tether binds us, pulling her in my direction. She tilts her head, a small, intimate acknowledgment, before slipping into the backseat. Nicholas’s phone dings in my pocket. **Nicholas:** I have Miss Hart. Proceeding to her home. **Me:** Drive carefully. **Nicholas:** Of course. Matthias waits for me when I step out from the darkness of the building, eyebrow raised. “Where’s Nicholas?” “I gave him a special assignment.” The corner of Matthias’s mouth quirks. “So he’s with your girl?” As if conjured from my thoughts, the Elysium club stands before us—a creation nurtured through years of labor under Xander’s guidance. It’s a sanctuary for liberation, designed to lure guests into abandoning all inhibitions. Fabric panels hang from the ceiling, transforming the space into private alcoves that coax patrons into pushing beyond their comfort zones. The soundtrack of electric music pulsates, entrancing their very beings. Tobias, the stoic guard responsible for overseeing access to our level, acknowledges me with a nod, stepping aside as I swipe my key fob against the door. The entrance swings open, revealing our domain—a realm sheltered behind dark-tinted windows overlooking the chaotic festivities below. Matthias follows me inside, and as the door closes, I consume the silence that fills the room, heavy yet charged. He sinks into a deep green leather club chair facing my brothers while Xander paces, face impassive, intent on a phone call. Bash sprawls lazily across the adjacent chair, feigning indifference while his playful demeanor flutters at the edges of trouble. I pour a measure of whiskey, allowing its richness to roll through my senses as I take a seat on the long, dark leather sofa. “What’s the update?” I prompt, aware that urgency hangs over our meeting. Matthias shifts forward, concern etching his features. “Someone’s taking out the Unsainted.” The Unsainted, the uninitiated—men who haven’t yet faced their trials to become Saints. Our authority rests upon the clear hierarchy enforced by the Order of Saints, and they’re at the bottom. Under no circumstances can we allow their lives to be extinguished. “How many?” “Five,” Matthias responds grimly, the weight of the revelation tightening my muscles. Bash whistles under his breath, his eyes gleaming. “Looks like someone’s inviting us to war.” His mischievous grin only fuels the fire that smolders within me. Xander shakes his head, edging closer. “Fuck that.” “He’s right. We observe for now. I’ve got eyes on all the Unsainted. If something happens, we’ll know,” Matthias states decisively, and I lean forward, hands clasped. “Who’s behind this?” “Unknown. No apparent gain for anyone to challenge our power.” I drum my fingers against my knee. “Set up guards. We’ll use one as bait and see who takes the bait.” “Cruel, brother,” Bash jumps in, though his boyish delight hints that he’s far from disappointed in the prospect. Having been too young when things spiraled into chaos, he’s drawn to danger like a moth to flame. My phone buzzes against my thigh, a welcome interruption. **Nicholas:** Miss Hart has been dropped off. Do you want me to stay? Nicholas has an uncanny knack for anticipating my needs; it’s one of the traits that make him invaluable. **Me:** Yes. I’ll send someone to relieve you. I flip to my monitoring app, watching as Misty slips off her shoes in the building’s entryway before ascending the staircase. My heart clenches when a stocky man appears, scanning her with too much interest. I’m seconds away from summoning Nicholas back in when she greets the stranger with a warm wave and that radiant smile of hers—instantly disarming him. They exchange casual words, and I make a note to have Matthias install microphones. Misty pushes open her door, dropping her shoes in the now-familiar living room I’ve scrutinized from afar. I’ve meticulously mapped out every possible vulnerability in her sanctuary—two exits, front and back, both fortified under my watchful gaze. Yet, although the whole apartment is secured—her balcony and main entrance are protected—I wish I'd found a way to fortify more than just the obvious. The apartment superintendent could be bribed into taking precautionary measures, but the idea of him being within her space leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Misty disappears into her room, and I’m left cursing the absence of a camera in there. The door hangs open just slightly, allowing a glimpse of her—a flash of her back, the dress undone just enough for my imagination to spiral. But she vanishes from view before my curiosity can devour me entirely. I’m tense, my phone gripped like a lifeline when Bash slaps a hand on my back. “You’re staring pretty hard at that phone,” he observes, mischief dancing in his eyes. I glare at him until he turns away, hands held up in mock surrender. “What was that ‘tradition for the heir to get married’ nonsense about?” He grabs my arm with a snicker. “And why were you so calm?” “I created the tradition,” I retort, shrugging him off. He steps back, hands raised in feigned innocence—my family understands the importance of personal boundaries. Xander interjects, “But why would you even do that?” “Because the woman I’m going to marry requires a little extra motivation,” I say coldly, making clear my unwillingness to entertain their prying questions. “Who is it?” Bash presses, genuine curiosity flashing in his playful demeanor. I can see that once the topic is open, there’s no shutting it down. “The Bruins’ PR rep.” Bash erupts in laughter. “She’s hot.” I shoot him a warning glare, and he hastily quiets. “You think I’m too old to beat you? You’d be mistaken.” Xander cuts in, brows furrowed. “And… you really think this random girl is just going to marry you?” “She will. By the time I’m finished, she won’t have a choice.” “Shit, that’s a little terrifying, Damon.” Xander’s cautious tone gnaws at my resolve. “You could always ask her,” he offers, but I shake my head, unwilling to negotiate. “I prefer my deals to be sealed before I proceed,” I warn them, letting my silent command hang. “Is that why you had me monitoring her building?” Matthias observes, his tone teasing and knowing as if I’m an open book to him. Bash sinks into the sofa, rubbing his hands together with glee, “This is getting good!” I barely register the statement as my focus sharpens on the screen—“Don’t you dare invade her privacy, you leering vultures.” Matthias laughs, “I refused the bathroom and bedroom cameras. Let’s just hope she’s not the type to stroll around in the nude.” “Watch it,” I snap, sarcasm cut with a thin edge of protectiveness. “Honestly, though,” Bash chimes in, his voice light and teasing. “This whole, desperate stalker vibe is a nice look for you.” And as much as I want to deny it, there’s a thrilling chase ahead, one where I intend to reclaim what’s always been rightfully mine.