Leighton was the third member of the Cowboys to take a wife. Since the first two had passed their tests flawlessly, there was no hesitation or fear when he married Chloe and received her assignment.
We all supported and cheered him on, assuming the outcome would be no different, until the moment of truth came and she changed her mind at the last second. Leighton was forced to pull the trigger in an act to save her life, effectively ending it at the same time. That was the cost of her failure, the cost we knew all too well. The same price we would’ve paid if we hadn’t completed our own.
The worst part of bringing a woman into this world was that we weren't just their husbands; we were their reapers, the ones who handed them their fate if they were unsuccessful.
There were no second chances, and Leighton paid the ultimate price when his wife hesitated. There wasn’t a single man among us who would willingly kill the love of their life. But rules are rules, as morbid as they were, and the society’s secrets die with us.
Chloe’s pause broke a trust and his heart. He hasn’t been the same since. Broken, soulless, the most dangerous version of a man you could ever fathom becoming.
“This isn’t me trying to rain on your parade. I’m happy for you, elated, but I just want to make sure that you understand what you’re about to attempt. And I say it that way only because that’s the reality of just how high the stakes are gonna be.” Trent gripped my shoulders, demanding my attention, his eyes displaying sincere concern for the crucial decision I was making, “Can you live with that? The consequences?”
The question, once again, threw my thoughts back to the days that followed after Leighton had taken the life of his first and only love. How quickly his resolve deteriorated; how violent he’d turned.
“Let me put it this way. I’d sell my soul to the devil for her without a second thought. I’ll make sure she passes... Even if that means putting myself in a position that could end my time before hers.”
“Look, I’m not saying this to piss you off, and after all our years of friendship, I’d expect you to know that by now. But… Is this womanreallyworth risking your life?” Trent’s blue eyes locked with mine, worried that I was making a mistake I’d regret later—but she was far from it.
There wasn’t a shred of doubt in my mind that Dakota would be the perfect wife and excel at her test.
I’ll show her the beauty of becoming a force to be reckoned with.
Chapter 10
Dakota
“You’vegottobefucking kidding me.” I attempted to slam the slow-closing door behind me as I fumed like a furnace ready to blow. Tiny beads of sweat speckled my forehead with the combination of rage and unwanted desire that continued to wreak havoc throughout my body.
“I know, right? He’s fucking hot.” Tiffany didn’t spare even a glance at me while she casually scrolled through her phone from behind the front desk, elbows propped on the counter as she awaited my return. “Oh, I wonder if he’s single… You two would—”
“What the fuck was in that shake, and how much did you drink, because what part of ‘he’s the owner of adancestudio’ still isn’t sinking in?”Although she was right… he was fucking hot… and a great lay… Jesus Christ…“There is no way in hell that I wouldeven consider—”
“Oh god, lighten the fuck up, D. Ya know, you’d think that after being railed last night you’d be in a far better mood.” My sister mocked me with an exaggerated eye roll, clearly annoyed with my current state of mind. “What? Did my selection not satisfy my big sister enough? Because from the look on your face when we left, you were justdyingto go back for seconds…andthirds.” She paused for a reaction I refused to give.I did want him… Istillwanted him.“Pretty sure you would’ve let him take you home if you weren’t so fucking stubborn.” Her tone shifted to one of accusation, scolding me for something I didn’t do; that I should’ve done.
I didn’t respond. We were always in each other’s business, so her reaction shouldn’t have surprised me.
At my extended silence, Tiffany stepped out from behind the desk, her hands firmly pressing onto her hips as she inspected me closely. Eyes scanning me for a weak point while mine wandered, distracted and unable to meet hers; my posture far from the confident boss bitch of self-respect and dignity.
She was the only person in my life that I could never truly deceive. My sister always saw straight through my bullshit and lies. I don’t know why I even bothered trying. She always managed to get the truth out of me, somehow, even if it took months…years—she’d find a way.
Tiffany’s gaze softened with a long sigh, her shoulders slumping to mirror mine as she understood what I wasn’t saying—the fear I had of losing everything I’d built.
It wasn’t about him; it was about the studio.
“Ugh… I’m sorry, D… That was harsh and uncalled for… I wasn’t—” Her sentence broke as she rolled her lips together, carefully rethinking her words through a heavy sigh. “It’s none of my business.” She raised both hands in deference before grabbing her keys off the counter and nodding toward one of the studio rooms. Sundays were reserved for private lessons and working on new choreography. “I’ll leave you to it. But don’t let that hot owner psyche you out. Your customers are loyal to you; they wouldn’t risk going elsewhere.” Her eyes pointed to the trophy display along the far wall of the lobby. “Those speak volumes to your success. Own it, as you always do, D, and watch that short fuse of yours… It’s going to get you into trouble one of these days.” Tiffany gave my shoulder a light squeeze as she passed me to leave, her lips curling into a soft smile of calming support. “Oh, and for the record… Youcanhave your cake and eat it too. Just saying. No judgment here.”
Maybe I was overreacting…
Timemovedfasterthanusual, and with my mind focused on work rather than the asshole across the street, I’d peaked in the productivity department, still thinking about what my sister had said before she left. Those small words of wisdom and encouragement to keep pushing forward.
With the sun just having set, I hit send on my last email, notifying all students and clients of what to expect in the coming week,then dimmed the lobby lights and headed into one of the empty studio rooms.
I was tired and sore from an afternoon spent on repetitive movement, creating a new routine for one of my competitive acro performers. Every muscle in my body was screaming for rest, but even then, I had one more dance left in me before heading home and diving under the covers. One more moment to remind myself of who I was.
After pressing play on the stereo, I crossed to the center of the room, closing my eyes as “Express” by Christina Aguilera filled the space, and I let the song guide my sixth sense in an unrehearsed, freestyle routine—something I rarely did unless it was to blow off steam and to just…be.
Toward the end of the song, I dropped to my knees before falling forward onto my palms, flipping my hair back, arching it into an extension as I pressed them firmly onto the floor. With my chest lifted, I tilted my hips, pushing my ass out before gliding my knees out from under me, sinking into a low straddle.
I lightly bounced a couple of times to feel the stretch in my inner thighs, then slid my feet outward, extending my legs into a side split, before bringing them back in and shifting to stand.
