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I stand there, staring in the direction he’s gone, my heart pounding in my chest.
“Freya.”
I almost scream as I whirl, choking on my breath to find a confused-looking Kir standing behind me. He frowns, eyeing me like I’ve gone insane.
“Everything okay?” he murmurs in that dark, accented voice.
“Yeah, I—” I shake my head. “You just startled me. Sorry.”
He arches a brow in amusement before any trace of emotion drops from his face and he raises his wrist, tapping his Patek Phillip.
“It’s time. We’re signing it on the roof deck.”
He means the mafia blood marker that will seal—in blood,obviously—the agreement that Kenzo and Annika will be married, cementing the peace between the families.
“Oh. Yeah. Right…”
I blink, my brain foggy from what’s just happened.
From what I’ve just learned.
Kir frowns. “You sure you’re all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I have.
“Yeah, I’m fine…” I shake my head, forcing myself back to some semblance of normalcy. “Just… It’s a lot to take in.”
He smiles wryly, nodding. “I know. But it’s the only way we move forward without a war. Annika knows that. Just like she knows that if Kenzo Mori lays a finger on her or hurts one hair on her head, I’ll put him in the ground.”
I grin, biting my lip. “Thanks, Kir.”
He glances at me. “For?”
“Just…thanks.”
My movements are robotic, shock still pulsing through me as I follow Kir toward the staircase. A million questions are racing through my mind, but there’s no time to dwell on a single one.
Not now.
We reach the roof deck, the night air cool on my skin as we step out and join Isaak off to one side. The view from the roof of Sota’s home—New York’s skyline stretching out before us like a sea of glittering lights—is stunning. But I barely notice it. I’m focused on the group gathered near the patio.
Sota stands beside Kenzo’s twin siblings. Hana looks ultra put together with her dyed silvery blonde hairperfectlyin place, making her look like the CEO of a space company in some sci-fi movie. Next to them, her twin, Takeshi glares as he watches over the entire situation like the savage, avenging lord of darkness and chaos that he, purportedly, is.
Kenzo and Annika are standing side by side, their expressions arranged in carefully neutral expressions as they wait for us to join them.
And past them all, lurking in the shadows with those cold, ice-blue eyes stabbing into me, is Mal.
The blood-marker—a mafia-world contract signed in literal blood—is nothing more than a formality at this point. It’s already been decided: Annika and Kenzo are getting married, sealing the alliance between Bratva and Yakuza.
But as I stand there, I can’t shake the feeling that something is about to go wrong. The air feels heavy with tension, and my mind keeps drifting back to Mal. To the way he looked at me. The way he said my name.
The way he touched me the other night.
I shake my head, trying to clear my mind as I take my place beside Kir. Annika glances at me. Her expression is unreadable,but there’s a flicker of something in her eye that looks a lot like fear.
The ceremony is quick. Efficient. Kenzo takes the contract first, his hand steady as he stabs his thumb with the little pin set into the medallion of the blood marker, pushes his bloodied print to the page, and then dips the old-school style pen into the blood before signing his name. Then it’s Annika’s turn. Her fingers tremble slightly as she pricks her finger, touches the contract with it, then takes the pen, her gaze flicking up to meet Kenzo’s for the briefest of moments before she looks down again.
She hesitates.
