A sudden movement catches my attention, and my heart skips. He steps closer, the dim streetlight flickering across his mask. He reaches out, brushing a loose strand of hair from my face.
“Princess…” His voice is low, intimate. “I need to know your name. And… maybe I could get your number?”
Heat blooms in my chest, and my pulse quickens. Every instinct in me is drawn to him, but Maria’s sharp elbow in my side snaps me out of my daze.
“Uh-uh, Princess,” Maria hisses, grabbing my hand and pulling me slightly back. “No names, no numbers. Not tonight.”
I glance at her, confused, but Maria’s expression is firm.
Raphael frowns, tilting his head, mask shadowing his face. “I understand…” His tone is almost disappointed, but there’s a promise hidden in it, something that makes my stomach twist in anticipation. “Another night, then?”
I can’t help the small, mischievous smile that slips across my lips. “Maybe…” I murmur, and Maria tugs me further down the street before I can say more.
“Come on, Princess,” Maria says again, her voice teasing but insistent. “Let’s leave Mr. Mysterious to his shadows and enjoy the rest of our night.”
I glance over my shoulder one last time, catching the way he watches me, the dark promise in his stance, and I shiver—not from the cool air, but from something far hotter.
As Maria pulls me toward the car, laughter and music surrounding us, I know one thing for certain: this Halloween has been my best yet.
Chapter One
Raphael “The Reaper” Costa
Halloween 2025
Halloween night wraps the Chavez estate in a cloak of shadows and flickering light. Lanterns hang from the oaks along the water’s edge, their carved faces grinning like silent witnesses to the night’s mischief. Fog drifts across the manicured lawns, curling around marble fountains, carrying the scent of the ocean mingled with pumpkin spice and cigar smoke. Music and laughter spill from the grand house, but beneath the gaiety, the air hums with unspoken tension.
This night there’s a gathering of wealth, influence, and veiled threats. The Chavez and Costa families, longtime enemies in a war that has stretched across generations, each tried to claim Miami and other cities as their own. Everyone here knows the rules: be polite, smile, enter into conversations but say nothing to embarrass the family, and keep plenty of distance … or risk a confrontation that would make the headlines by morning.
Tonight is a gathering of wealth, influence, veiled threats and hopefully an understanding. The Chavez and Costa families, long-time enemies locked in a war stretching across generations, each claim Miami and beyond as their own. Everyone here knows the rules: be polite, smile, engage in conversation, andkeep your distance… or risk a confrontation that would make headlines by morning.
I am Raphael “The Reaper” Costa, and I dislike being on enemy territory. Standing on the fringe, I am a predator in human form—tall, lethal, and measured. My mask conceals the scarred perfection of my face. I do not mingle. I survey the house, the grounds, the guests, every detail before stepping into the lion’s den.
And then I see her.
Sophia, Hector Chavez’s daughter, floats through the crowd in a gown of deep crimson, her dark hair swept up into a sparkling crown. Lanterns catch it as she turns, the light bouncing off the jewels, illuminating the curve of her smile as she greets the people around her. She’s twenty-four, educated, refined, and every bit the princess her costume suggests. Spoiled, probably boring, living under her father’s watchful eye on this well-guarded estate… and yet, I can’t take my eyes off her.
But my mind refuses to categorize her as ordinary. I let my eyes trace the line of her neck, the curve of her shoulders beneath the crimson fabric, the subtle tension in her posture. She’s aware of the room, of her father’s proximity, and on the surface, she appears to be the perfect woman Hector Chavez shows off to the world.
A woman dressed as Ursula sidles up to her, linking her arm with Sophia’s. She looks familiar, the way they laugh at something I can’t hear. There’s something about them—an energy I can’t quite place, a spark I can’t ignore.
“Yo, bro, Dad wants you.” My younger brother, Gabriel, nudges me with his elbow.
“The woman next to Sophia Chavez… who is she?”
Gabriel shrugs. “No idea. Want me to find out?”
“Yes.”
“You like her?”
“No.” I glance at him. “Remember the woman from last year?”
“You mean the one you obsessed over for three months?”
“Not that long.” In truth, it’s been an entire year, but I don’t need my brother teasing me, not here, not tonight. “Where’s Dad?”
He points across the crowd. My father raises a hand, standing with a group of Chavez men. I wave back and, without looking at Gabriel, say, “Find out who Ursula is.”
