Chapter 3

The Maybach rolled through the gates of the Rourke family estate.

Elowen Rourke—the ruthless Matriarch of the Syndicate—was waiting on the steps.

The second the tires stopped, Maren slipped out of the car and practically ran to her.

"Elowen! It's freezing. Why are you waiting outside?" Maren fussed, linking her arm through the older woman's.

Elowen's typically hardened face melted into a doting smile.

"I was waiting for you, sweet girl. I had you placed under Jaxson's direct command this week. I know how demanding he can be. I hope he hasn't been too harsh on you."

Maren cast a shy glance back at Jaxson.

The lethal mob boss was standing by the car, a rare, soft smirk playing on his lips.

Maren's cheeks flushed. "He's been wonderful. I'm learning a lot."

They turned to head inside, absorbed in each other. It wasn't until they were halfway to the doors that Elowen paused, glancing back at me as if she had just noticed a stray dog on her lawn.

The warmth vanished from her eyes. "Soraya. Come inside before you freeze."

That was it.

As I walked up the steps, Jaxson fell into step beside me. He looked down, his brow furrowing.

"You're radiating hostility."

"I'm fine," I said.

It was true. The tightness in my chest wasn't anger; it was the hollow peace of letting go.

His jaw clenched. "If an operation went south today, leave it at the door. I won't sit across from a sulking bride all evening."

My hands curled into fists inside my coat pockets. The nails dug into my palms.

For a split second, I had wondered if he had noticed the death of our relationship. Instead, he was just annoyed that I wasn't performing my role.

I stopped walking. I looked up at him, the last remnants of my devotion bleeding out on the steps.

"I'll feel however I want to feel," I said, my voice eerily calm.

"If my face bothers you, don't look at it. I'm your fiancé, Jaxson, not one of your soldiers. I don't exist just to make your life frictionless."

Jaxson's eyes darkened, the dangerous, commanding aura of the boss flaring up.

"You're a grown woman, Soraya. We are taking the Blood Oath soon, and I will not have a volatile, emotional woman standing at my side."

I let out a dry laugh. "Then who exactly fits your criteria?"

He stared at me, his expression hardening into absolute authority.

"You are the one I'm marrying. That is non-negotiable. But you could learn a thing or two from Maren. She understands composure. She regulates her emotions."

I stared into his eyes. Then, I smiled.

"Understood."

Inside the grand dining room, Elowen sat at the head of the table. She pulled Maren to the seat on her right, while Jaxson took his usual place on her left.

I walked over to the opposite end, taking a seat where I wouldn't interrupt their perfect little family portrait.

Looking down at the sprawling spread of gourmet dishes, I realized there wasn't a single thing on the table I liked.

Elowen was glowing as she piled food onto Maren's gold-rimmed plate.

"Handling the family's front operations is draining. Eat up. Jaxson made sure the chef prepared all your favorites."

Maren smiled. "Thank you, Elowen."

There was a brief pause. Elowen looked down the table at me, offering a tight, obligatory smile.

"I didn't brief the kitchen on your preferences, Soraya. You'll just have to make do."

Jaxson reached over with a serving spoon and dropped a portion of glazed meat onto my plate.

"Tell the staff what you want next time," he said. "You never really cared about food anyway. Not like Maren. She loves the sweet stuff. Pineapple-glazed pork, candied yams... childish cravings."

I looked down at my plate.

I stared at the chunks of roasted pineapple resting in the sticky glaze, my vision blurring for a second.

Five years. We had been together, surviving assassination attempts and syndicate wars, for five years.

And he still didn't know I was violently allergic to pineapple.

Every word he spoke, perfectly reciting Maren's favorite flavors, was a glaring neon sign pointing to my utter failure in this relationship.

Right then, the phone in my pocket vibrated. A message from my handler.

[Flight secured. Wheels up at 08:00 tomorrow.]

The suffocating weight in the room instantly vanished. A deep, profound sense of relief washed over me.

I didn't touch my fork for the rest of the dinner. Jaxson didn't even notice.

I just sat there in silence, a ghost at the table, quietly watching the three of them laugh and talk.

I didn't belong in their world.

And finally, I didn't want to.