Lately, Phoenix had taken down a massive drug trafficking ring, cracked two serial murder cases, and even foiled a terrorist plot.

But she wasn’t satisfied. Something was off.

Each time she arrived at the scene, the culprits were already dead or subdued—as if someone else had done her job before she even showed up. Someone was moving faster than her. Someone was playing with her.

That someone could only be Atticus.

When a new lead came in that afternoon, Phoenix didn’t hesitate. She was determined to stake it out personally. For days now, she’d been chasing the shadow of the mastermind, but every single time, he was one step ahead.

Not tonight.

Just as she was about to head out, lightning split the sky outside the window, illuminating the entire office in a blinding white flash. Phoenix froze mid-step, a sharp jolt of dread slicing through her chest.

Her instincts screamed.

Her expression shifted in an instant. She shot to her feet, startling everyone in the room.

“Mr. Phoenix, what’s wrong?” one of her subordinates asked, startled.

Phoenix’s eyes narrowed. “We’ve walked right into their trap. Get the car—we’re going back!”

She didn’t waste another second. Maximilian, quick on his feet, was the first to react, sprinting after her as they rushed into the rain.

The car tore through the streets, engine roaring, streetlights smearing into streaks of color outside the windows. Phoenix’s face was grim, every muscle in her jaw tight with fear and fury.

Maximilian could only pray silently under his breath. Atticus, if you hurt Clarissa… Phoenix will burn the world down to find you.

........

The night was warm and still.

Delilah was in the shower, her voice humming softly through the bathroom door. Abyss was curled up by the bed, breathing slow and deep.

Clarissa zipped up the last piece of luggage, tucking it beside the suitcase. Tomorrow, she was supposed to leave for Mr. Callum’s home. Finally, she could rest.

But then—

A low, guttural growl rumbled through the room.

Abyss sprang up, every hair on its body standing on end.

Clarissa froze, her pulse spiking. She turned toward the window—and her breath caught in her throat.

He was there. Atticus.

Leaning lazily against the windowsill, the night breeze playing through his black hair and open collar. The moonlight caught on his sharp features, the silver butterflies circling around him like pieces of living starlight.

He caught one between his fingers, the delicate wings trembling in his grasp. The motion was graceful, effortless—teasing.

The contrast of his pale skin against the dark night was devastatingly beautiful, the kind of beauty that could only exist at the edge of danger.

A creature born of the dark, seductive and lethal all at once.

He released the butterfly, flicking it gently into the air, and turned to her with a slow, knowing smile.

“Clarissa,” he drawled softly. “Long time no see.”

Her pulse thundered in her ears. Before she could speak, he continued, his tone low and mocking.

“The Wraith estate feels awfully empty without Phoenix around. Those guards outside? Nothing but decorations.”

And with that, he jumped lightly down from the window ledge. The butterfly followed him, circling lazily in the air like it belonged to him.

“Don’t come any closer,” Clarissa said sharply, her voice trembling with cold anger.

Abyss crouched in front of her, baring its fangs with a threatening snarl.

Atticus glanced at the panther and chuckled, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. “Clarissa, you should know better than anyone how dangerous my little pets can be. If you don’t want yours dead, tell it to stand down.”

Her blood ran cold.

“Atticus,” she spat, her voice shaking, “what do you want from me? I’ve already made myself clear—it’s over between us!”

At her words, Atticus’s smile vanished. His gaze hardened, shadowed with something darker—possessive, wounded, cruel.

He sighed, his expression twisting. “Clarissa… you really think you get to decide that?”

Before she could reply, a voice called faintly from the bathroom.

“Clarissa! I’m okay—”

Delilah’s voice cut off abruptly.

Clarissa spun around in terror. “Delilah! Run!”

But it was too late.

Atticus moved—too fast for the eye to follow.

In the blink of an eye, he was behind Delilah. She barely had time to grab for her flute before his hand clamped around her throat. He lifted her effortlessly, then hurled her aside like a rag doll.

“Delilah!” Clarissa’s scream tore through the room as Delilah slammed into a cabinet, her small body rolling once before falling still.

Abyss roared and lunged at Atticus, but before it could even reach him, its body convulsed and collapsed to the floor with a heavy thud.

The room was suddenly, horribly quiet.

Clarissa’s blood ran cold. He’s too strong…

She stumbled toward Delilah, but the world suddenly tilted, going dark around the edges.

Her knees gave way.

Before she hit the ground, a pair of strong arms caught her.

Atticus held her close, his breath ghosting against her ear. His voice was quiet—almost tender.

“Clarissa…”

Two shadowy figures appeared at the door behind him. Atticus looked over his shoulder and said coldly, “Phoenix will be here soon. We’re leaving.”

He didn’t want to fight her—not yet.

“Yes, sir,” one of them replied.

By the time Phoenix and Maximilian arrived, the entire Wraith estate was in chaos. The guards outside were down—unconscious, not dead.

Phoenix kicked open Clarissa’s door, and her heart stopped.

Delilah lay motionless on the floor, Abyss beside her, breathing but weak.

Clarissa was gone.

Phoenix’s hands clenched into fists, her pulse pounding in her ears.

Atticus… you bastard.

“Delilah!”

Phoenix dropped to her knees and pressed two fingers to Delilah’s throat. There was a pulse—steady. Her breathing was shallow but normal. No signs of poisoning.

Phoenix exhaled in relief and glanced toward Maximilian. “How’s Abyss?”

“She’s fine,” he replied, crouched beside the big cat. “Just anesthetized—heavy dose. It’ll take a while for it to wake.”

Phoenix’s eyes hardened. That bastard Atticus… At least he hadn’t hurt Delilah or the panther. But Clarissa—

Her fists clenched, eyes burning with fury. “Damn it! Atticus, you son of a bitch. You’re not getting away with this.”

After securing Delilah, Phoenix turned and stormed out. “Lock down every checkpoint! He won’t get far, not in my city!”

The order went out instantly. Within minutes, Westhaven was on high alert—roadblocks raised, police flooding intersections, ports sealed. The Wraith family’s private security joined in, combing every block and alley.

You want to run, Atticus? Let’s see if the Wraiths let you.

Maximilian followed close behind, stealing a look at Phoenix. He’d seen her angry before—but never like this.

.......

Atticus arrived at a derelict high-rise at the city’s edge, Clarissa limp in his arms. The stairwell smelled of dust and rusted metal. Sirens wailed faintly in the distance, echoing up through the hollow building.

The city below shimmered with flashing lights—every road blockaded, every bridge guarded.

Atticus smiled faintly.

Just as he stepped onto the rooftop, the rhythmic whir of rotor blades filled the air. A helicopter descended from the clouds, searchlights cutting through the darkness.

Behind him, the rooftop door slammed open.

“Atticus!”

Phoenix stood in the doorway, gun raised, the wind whipping her coat around her legs. The black barrel of her pistol was leveled straight at his head. Her eyes burned like fire.

“Put Clarissa down,” she barked, her voice steady but sharp as glass. “Right now. Or I swear to God, I’ll put a bullet through your skull.”

Atticus turned his head slightly, lips curling into a faint smile. “Master… you’re still as sharp as ever. You found me quicker than I thought.”

“Cut the bullshit.” Phoenix’s finger tightened on the trigger. “You think you’re escaping in that rust-bucket helicopter? Maximilian!”

From behind her, a tactical team poured onto the roof—men in black combat gear, moving in perfect sync. Within seconds, they’d assembled shoulder-mounted rocket launchers, their sights trained on the hovering chopper.

Phoenix’s voice cut through the chaos. “You’ve got one minute before that thing’s scrap metal. Drop her, Atticus. Now.”

For a moment, the wind was the only sound between them.

Then Atticus laughed. A deep, unrestrained sound that echoed through the night.

“Phoenix,” he said softly, still smiling. “You showed me kindness once, and I didn’t want to hurt you. But if I don’t play dirty…” His eyes gleamed, feral. “…I’ll be the one who dies.”

Phoenix’s stomach twisted. Something in his tone made her blood run cold.

Atticus’s grin widened, feverish and cruel. “Master, I don’t actually want you dead. So… do me a favor. Try to survive this.”

He stepped backward—then leapt.

“Atticus!” Phoenix shouted, sprinting forward just as he jumped off the roof, Clarissa in his arms. The helicopter swung low, its doors snapping open.

Phoenix was about to order her men to fire—when the rooftop trembled violently beneath her feet.

A split second later, the world exploded.

The shockwave hit first, then the deafening roar of multiple blasts. The rooftop split apart, concrete raining down like shrapnel. The man carrying the turret screamed as the floor gave way beneath him, swallowed by a flash of fire.

“Phoenix!” Maximilian lunged, grabbing her wrist as the roof crumbled beneath them.

Atticus had wired the entire building. Not a few charges—tons of explosives.

“Damn it!” Phoenix snarled, coughing through the smoke. “That bastard!”

“Forget him!” Maximilian shouted. “We have to move!”

Phoenix swung her arm up, catching a steel beam jutting out from the ruins. She and Maximilian climbed, leaping from one fragment of collapsing concrete to another as the inferno closed in.

Then—a spotlight cut through the smoke.

A plane roared into view, tilting low. At the controls was Raphael, yelling through the open door.

“Phoenix! Maximilian! Jump!”

They didn’t hesitate. With one last glance at each other, they leapt—just as the final piece of the rooftop disintegrated beneath their feet. They hit the wing hard, rolling to a stop.

Behind them, the skyscraper imploded in a thunderous collapse, a tower of flame devouring what was left.

Far ahead, Atticus’s helicopter dwindled into the horizon, a tiny speck swallowed by the clouds.

Phoenix gripped the edge of the wing, knuckles white, her voice shaking with fury as she shouted into the roaring night:

“Atticus!”

.....

When Clarissa came to, everything was black.

A piece of cloth covered her eyes, and cold restraints dug into her wrists and ankles. The only sound was the faint tinkling of bells somewhere close.

“Hello?” Her voice echoed. Nothing answered her but the soft chime of metal against metal.

She tried to move, but the bindings held fast. Where the hell am I?

Her breath quickened. Then—footsteps. Slow. Measured. Coming closer.

“Who’s there?” she called, forcing strength into her tone.

No reply. Instead, she felt fingertips trace lightly across her face—her forehead, her cheek, then the curve of her lips.

Her body went rigid. “Atticus!” she hissed. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

A soft laugh answered her, deep and familiar. “I was only admiring how beautiful you look when you’re angry.”

A second later, the blindfold slipped away.