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“You got too greedy, didn’t you?” His eyes narrow, fixed on my hands.

If I were holding a weapon, he’d fucking love that. Fighting is his breath of fresh air.

“You killed the chicken. Didn’t think about what keeping it alive could have earned you.”

His eyes roam the kitchen, sweeping past me toward the stairs, as if he catches Rylan’s scent in my bed. I open my mouth, but he cuts me off and continues.

“You got any bacon? Pigs are always good. They eat everything—make for good cleaners if you need bodies disposed of.”

I need coffee spiked with 100-proof alcohol to speak to him.

“Here’s a tip, Steffen: never be empty-handed.” His lip twitches, barely holding back a laugh as he senses my blood pressure rising. “Good thing I ate my prey this morning.” He licks his lips, eyes flicking to my trembling hands. “If you reach for that frying pan, I’ll make you regret it.”

“When have you ever made it pleasant?” I rebut, flexing my toes.

“Pleasantries are overrated.” Anders smirks as he digs the blade under his index finger. He wipes the grime off on his pants. “It’s like fucking with a condom on. No risk, no reward.”

“And how is your reward?” I mutter.

Fuck why did I ask that?

His playful tone falters. “Alive and healthy,” he growls. He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, slicing it, then stares me down as he licks the blood off and swallows it.

“That’s good to hear,” I reply, forcing a smirk.

My mind races through every weapon hidden in the kitchen. But if I go for one, Anders won’t just kill me—he’ll destroy everyone I care about. Anders isn’t just an unwelcome visitor; he’s one of the rulers of The Rites of Passage.

“Why do you look surprised, Steffen?” Anders fakes an insult. His tall body, leaner than Torben’s but no less deadly, pushes against the wall as he stands taller. “Did you think this wouldn’t work?”

I glance down at Torben. He knows why Anders is here. Anders is the one who told me Nelson was alive, sitting in a cell run by The Rites.

War makes you shake hands with people you’d never call friends. Anders is one of them.

This is where everything turns to tar—lies merging, blackmail surfacing, old treaties unraveling.

I roll my shoulders, but more tension piles on. Rylan doesn’t know a lot about her family. One is that twins are a common occurrence in the Baine bloodline. Henderson, Rylan’s half-brother, had a twin sister, but she died when their mom was thirty weeks pregnant. The cord got wrapped around her neck. They delivered Henderson early. So when he heard about Rylan, his mind connected her to his lost sister in some twisted fucking way.

The other twin in Rylan’s family line is Nelson Baine, Alister’s twin brother. Henderson and Rylan’s uncle. My godfather. My father’s killer.

He was second born, and that fact always ate away at him. Alister excelled in life; ruling and business came naturally. Nelson was the black sheep, always chasing the wrong option, then begging Alister to fix his mistake—Alister did; they all did. They fueled Nelson’s loss of control, then tried to fix it when he became too feral. He got hooked on drugs, a new demon the others could not fight. It was a mental battle Nelson was losing.

I recall that fateful night that ruined my life. I was on my father’s yacht sailing the fjord. Nelson joined us, and within the hour we were making port and getting the rest of BANKS with us. It was an intervention. One I wasn’t supposed to join, but I jumped on the yacht last minute. Fate only knows why I felt the urge to come.

Dad’s mistake was starting to talk to Nelson before the others joined. I remember hearing the shouting. Nelson walked out onto the deck, pulled a gun, and point-blank shot three of the staff. Seeing his brutality firsthand shocked me. I watched the blood soak into the wood grain. Dad acted, but not before Nelson threw a fit like a child and pointed the gun at my father.

Bang!

It hit me like an asteroid. I felt the impact and knew that bullet hit my father. I remember running, but I kept stumbling, even dropping my own weapon; it slid down the side of the boat. I was in such a state of horror I didn’t bother grabbing it; I just needed to get to my father. More gunshots were fired. By the time I reached my dad, Nelson had fled the deck, picking off the boat staff. My dad had called off security since Nelson’s intervention was a private BANKS Corp matter.

“Steffen.” I hear Anders call my name. It sounds like he’s half annoyed and half curious about where my mind’s floated off to.

He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a lighter, and ignites it. “I thought I warned you to get over the flashbacks.”

“Stop,” Torben hisses, his anger directed at Anders, who watches the flame flicker.

I’m on the boat; the cool night air touching my sweaty neck as my life changes forever. Then I feel the fire. Nelson started it while I held onto my dad, trying to stop the bleeding. Like a skilled predator driven by bloodlust, Nelson came back, raised his gun and fired. Dad lunged; his last move was protecting me. He landed on top of me. A second later, the boat exploded as a fuel tank caught fire. I didn’t see Nelson. I thought the fire took him. Alister told me they found Nelson’s body floating.

It was a lie.