“Exactly what I thought.” He sets his empty glass down on the coffee table. “Never in my life has ‘just’ a ‘friend’ modeled lingerie for me.”
Troy snorts. “Exactly, the fucker’s lying to you, C.”
His stare pins Hayden. “So, we’re lying to each other now, Hayden? Trying to pull a fast one on me, are you?”
“N...no, Cyan, I’m not lying.” Cyan. The name slams into place, like his eyes. A shade that shouldn’t exist in nature, too vivid to be real, too piercing to ignore.
“Alright, Hayden, it’s grand to hear you didn’t lie to me.”
Hayden’s hands visibly shake as he stutters out words. “Y-yes, Cyan. I-I, this is n-new. We have not yet reached that type of relationship. I swear, we haven’t… haven’t even slept together. This is new. We haven’t...”I wish Hayden would stop talking.
Cyan leans back, tapping the ring on his finger against the chair’s edge. “Alright, Hayden.” He shrugs. “Just conveniently left out a few details, then. Like how you shaved a few numbers, that equals a little over ten million dollars off the ROI on my investment portfolio.” I whip my head toward Hayden, my stomach dropping into free fall. Did I hear that correctly? Hayden stole money from these men. My Nonna’s voice echoes in my mind, clear as day.“If a man neverargues, he’s either a saint… or a liar.” As a kidI’d laughed, thinking it was just another one of my Gran’s dramatic lessons. But now I understand.
Hayden’s entire body is trembling now. “I-I-Cyan, I-just found m-my-self tangled up, really tangled, C-Cyan, and I swear, swear I’d... have put it all back,” Hayden stammers out his foolish excuse.
“See, Collin, I told ya it isn’t what we thought.” Cyan taps the man to his right, addressing the second red-haired man in the room. “Hayden didn’t steal from us. No, the lad just borrowed ten million behind our backs and fudged the books to make it look like nothing was missing.”
Collin tilts his head at Hayden. He eerily resembles Cyan—they must be related.
“Borrowed without our knowledge…what’s the difference? Sounds like stealing to me.” Collin’s tone is cool and measured. His accent carries a slight Irish lilt, but it is less pronounced and more American. My gaze flickers between them, the resemblance undeniable. Unlike the other men, these two share the same raw, untamed intensity, their features almost identical, broad-shouldered, sharp-jawed, and red-haired. Yet the differences between them are just as striking. Cyan has a beard and seems to be older. Collin is clean-shaven, his hair pulled back into a ponytail, and then there are his eyes. If Cyan’s gaze is a frozen blade, cold yet alive with an underlying heat, Collin’s is pure void, a frostbite-inducing stare that seems to suck the warmth from the room. He watches us, listening, not moving an inch, as if he’s waiting for Cyan to give him the go ahead. The fact that a man like that… answers to Cyan makes this kingpin infinitely more terrifying. I can’t believe this shit. Hayden stole from these men. Even an amoeba would know better.
Cyan’s smile becomes razor thin. “You’re right, Col. It’s stealing.” He shrugs. “Never trust a man who cheats on his wife.”
The words barely register before I hear myself gasp. “Married?”
Cyan’s gaze snaps back to me, the barest flicker of a smile curving at his lips. “Ah. Seems I’m not the only one Hayden’s been feeding lies to.” He leans back, stretching. “Go on, little brother. Handle it how you see fit.”
Collin unsheathes a machete. I inhale sharply, pressing into the couch, my heartbeat a riot in my chest. I feel the uncontrollable tremors vibrating through Hayden as he, like me, knows that we’re about to die, as there’s no way these men will leave any witnesses alive.
“Cyan, ple-ee-ase, I ca–can return the–the money, I swear.” Hayden, the lying bastard, brought this shit to me. I blink and blink again, hoping that this is a dream. In a last-ditch effort to wake myself up from the body-paralyzing nightmare, I pinch my outer thighs with such force that I’m sure it will leave bruising.
I look on with no hope as the other men pull out their guns. A frigid chill seeps into every cell in my bones.
My lips burst open, a sound rips out of me, wild and unhinged, a crack in the unbearable tension. Hayden was to be my unicorn. I thought I had found it all in this slimy, thieving, cheating jackass who stole ten million dollars from the mob. Yeah, these men are giving me Godfather vibes, then I feel something wet against my thigh. I glance down; apparently, my laughter made Hayden piss himself. There is a noticeable yellowish liquid on the couch. I can’t help but laugh harder.
“Cyan, p...p... please don’t kill me,” the cheating motherfucker sits wallowing in his filth, pleading for mercy. Not once has he thought of me, so if death is to be my fate this evening, I’ll meet it with laughter. Surely, they’re all thinking I’ve lost my mind. Then, to my utter surprise, Cyan chuckles. A rich, velvety sound, darkly amused. Some men chuckle with him, their weapons lowering a little. Hayden, the cheating slime, starts laughing too, his terrified giggles a sharp contrast to the surrounding scene.
Then Cyan moves, knocking the glass off the table; it shatters as it hits the floor. Before I can react, his hand clamps around my throat. He stifles my bubbling laughter.
Three
“Some predators don’t chase prey. They claim it and dare the world to take it back.” —Cyan MacBrady.
Just like the first time I saw her at the festival, she sparks something visceral inside me. It’s infuriating, this flicker of warmth that has no place in my world, a ghost I buried long ago.
Yet here she is, taunting me with it, chipping away at the ice encasing my soul. Fury coils tight inside me, volatile and unchecked. My arm lashes out, knocking the glass off the table as my fingers clamp around her throat. The shattering sound becomes background music. Her breath catches. A soft, broken whimper escapes her lips and I drink it in.
Aria’s doe-brown eyes go wide. Her fear is naked—and rightly so. I don’t blink, don’t loosen my grip, even as my free hand moves with practiced ease into the side of my jacket, unsheathing my Bowie knife, then driving it into Hayden’s thigh. The steel slides through flesh and muscle with sickening ease, stopping at the guard of the blade. Hayden’s scream shatters the tense silence. It’s a melody that plays well with the narrative of the man I have become. Blood spills, pooling on the expensive loveseat. When I pull the blade free, a splatter of crimson paints Aria’s stunned face.
“Cyan... I... I have the money. All of it.” Hayden stammers through his agony. “I’ll give it back, every cent!”
Pathetic.I don’t even acknowledge him. My focus is on her, this dove that has flown into my territory, sitting frozen, tears spilling silently down her cheeks. I can feel her pulse beating erratically under my palm.
“Collin, do I care about a measly ten million dollars?” I ask.
My younger brother fake-chuckles, unbothered as always. “No, bro. It’s the principle. If we let this slide, what kind of message does that send?”
I smile. “I’m liking the way you articulate things, little brother.” I turn to address Aria. “My brother has a master’s in English Literature. Doesn’t look it, does he?” I say, and with the edge of my thumb I stroke the trembling column of Aria’s throat, feeling a shiver run through her.
