MasukThe Caribbean sun beats down on my face as we walk along the main deck. The black silk robe Zion gave me barely hides what happened in the last few hours. My wrists are still marked, red beneath the wide sleeves. Every step reminds me that I’m here against my will… and, at the same time, that I didn’t try to run when I had the chance.
Zion walks on my right, his possessive hand on my waist. Luka was on my left, fingers intertwined with mine. Elias follows close behind, like a protective shadow. They won’t let me get even half a meter away.
“You’re too quiet,” Luka murmurs, squeezing my hand. “It scares me.”
“I’m thinking about how I’m going to kill all three of you once I get off this ship,” I reply, without looking at him.
Zion chuckles lowly, the sound vibrating against my body.
“Still angry? Good. I prefer you furious to pretending to be indifferent.”
We pass couples and families enjoying the sunny day. Some people recognize Zion and try to approach, but Elias simply blocks the way with his body, without saying a word. Zion’s fame now serves as the perfect disguise for what they really are.
We reach the infinity pool area. The turquoise sea stretches to the horizon. Eileen and Cian are already there, sitting on lounge chairs with colorful drinks in their hands. When they see us, both break into huge smiles—far too complicit for my liking.
“Finally!” Eileen exclaims, standing up to hug me. She squeezes me tight, whispering in my ear, "Breathe, darling." They love you. Let them love you.”
I swallow hard. She doesn’t know everything. No one does.
Cian gives Zion a friendly slap on the shoulder.
“Take good care of her. Or I’ll throw the three of you into the sea myself.”
“You got it,” Zion replies, pulling me down to sit between him and Luka on a wide lounge chair.
They surround me again. Always surrounding me.
I stay silent as I watch the activity around us. Children screaming in the pool, couples kissing, the sound of laughter and soft music. Everything looks so normal. And here I am, a willing prisoner to three dangerous men.
Luka applies sunscreen to my legs with slow, almost reverent movements. Zion lies down behind me, pulling my back against his chest. Elias sits on the edge, watching everything.
“You don’t need to watch me all the time,” I grumble.
“Yes, we do,” Elias answers, eyes never leaving the horizon. “You run when we least expect it.”
I turn my face toward the sea. The wind messes up my hair. For a few minutes, no one speaks. Only the sound of the waves and the warmth of their bodies around me.
Then Zion breaks the silence, his voice low, just for me:
“Do you still think about him? About your father?”
My entire body tenses. I don’t answer.
Luka stops applying sunscreen and rests his chin on my knee.
“We know your relationship with him is bad. That you avoid talking about him. But how bad is it, Maeve? Did he hurt you?”
I close my eyes. The memories threaten to rise—cold hands, venomous words, nights I wish I could erase from existence.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I whisper.
“It’s okay,” Elias says, surprisingly gentle. “But know this: if he tries to get close to you or Matthew while we’re together… he won’t like the outcome.”
The veiled threat makes me shiver. They don’t know half of it. And maybe that’s for the best.
The afternoon passes slowly. They take me to lunch at the deck restaurant. They make me drink coconut water. They even make me laugh—against my will—when Zion tells absurd stories about disastrous shows. For a few moments, I almost forget I was kidnapped.
Almost.
When the sun begins to set, we return to the suite. The tiredness of the day weighs on me. As soon as the door closes, Zion spins me against the wall, pressing his body into mine.
“You behaved well today,” he murmurs, nose brushing my neck. “You deserve a reward.”
I place my hands on his chest, pushing without any real force.
“Don’t confuse silence with surrender.”
Luka approaches from behind, kissing my exposed shoulder.
“We’re not confusing it. We know you’re still fighting. But we also know you’re tired of fighting alone.”
Elias leans against the door, watching us with those dark, intense eyes.
“Tonight,” he says, “we’re going to make you forget everything.”
I take a deep breath, trapped between Zion and Luka, my traitorous body responding to their heat.
“I can still say no,” I assert, even though my voice comes out weak.
Zion smiles against my skin.
“You can. And we’ll respect it… for now. But tomorrow? Tomorrow we’ll remind you exactly why you always come back to us.”
They guide me to the huge bed. This time, without ropes. Just warm bodies surrounding me again. Zion behind me. Elias in front. Luka at my side, holding my hand.
I close my eyes as the ship rocks gently.
The anger is still here. So is the fear.
But something new is growing along with them.
A slow surrender.
Dangerous.
Inevitable.
And I no longer know if I want to stop it.
Je la porte à l'étage comme si elle ne pesait rien.Elle se débat tout le chemin. Ses ongles tentent de déchirer ma chemise, ses dents cherchent n'importe quel morceau de peau qu'elles peuvent atteindre, ses jambes donnent des coups de pied dans le vide avec force. Je ne la lâche pas. Mon bras est fermement enroulé autour de sa taille, l'autre tenant ses deux poignets contre ma poitrine. Son odeur monte — la colère, du savon cher, et ce désir qu'elle déteste admettre. Chaque mouvement de son corps contre le mien ne fait que me tendre davantage.— Lâche-moi, espèce d'enfoiré ! crie-t-elle, la voix rauque d'avoir tant insulté.Je ne réponds pas. Je monte simplement les escaliers d'un pas ferme, sentant mon cœur battre fort dans ma poitrine. Quand nous arrivons à la chambre, je la jette sur le lit. Son corps rebondit sur le matelas moelleux et elle tente immédiatement de se relever. Je monte sur elle avant qu'elle n'y parvienne. Mes genoux de chaque côté de ses hanches, mes mains mainten
Le silence après l'appel de Maeve pèse dans la chambre.Elara est toujours menottée par le poignet droit à la tête de lit. La fine chemise de nuit épouse son corps d'une manière qui me fait serrer la mâchoire. Je reste debout à côté du lit, la regardant. Elle me rend mon regard avec la même fureur que toujours, mais maintenant il y a quelque chose de différent. De la curiosité. De la peur. Et cette colère qui brûle en dessous.— Ta mère sait que tu es un kidnappeur ? demande-t-elle, la voix rauque d'avoir tant crié hier.— Elle sait que je fais ce qu'il faut pour protéger ce qui est à moi — réponds-je.Je m'approche et libère la menotte. Elara s'assoit immédiatement et frotte son poignet rouge. J'attends le coup. Il vient. Elle essaie de me frapper au visage avec sa main libre. J'attrape son poignet en l'air et la tire vers le bord du lit, la forçant à se mettre à genoux sur le matelas, face à moi.— Continue d'essayer — murmure-je en inclinant mon visage près du sien. — Chaque fois q
I wake up with the faint light of dawn coming through the heavy curtains.My body is still tense. I spent the whole night on the sofa, eyes half-open, listening to every breath she took. Elara slept badly. I heard her pulling at the cuffs, sobbing quietly, and finally, silence settling in.Now she's awake.I feel her gaze on me before I even move. When I open my eyes, I find her staring. Her black hair is messy, the thin nightgown clinging to her body, her wrists still tied above her head. There's anger in her green eyes… and something tired underneath."Good morning, little one," I say, my voice hoarse from no sleep.She spits my name."Get these fucking cuffs off. I need to go to the bathroom."I get up slowly. My body aches from being on the sofa. I walk to the bed and lean over her. Her scent—soap, warm skin, and that constant hatred—rises to me. I grip her chin firmly."Ask properly.""Fuck you," she growls.I almost smile. Instead, I release only one side of the cuffs, just enou
I hear her screaming from the other side of the house.The employee I hired, an older woman named Marta, is trying to drag Elara to the bathroom. The curses echo through the hallways: "Let me go, you old bitch!" "I'm not going to shower on your orders!" "That son of a bitch is going to regret buying me!"I stand in the dark hallway, leaning against the wall, listening to everything. My lip still burns where she bit me. The taste of blood is still on my tongue. And fuck, I like it.Minutes later, the bathroom door slams shut. I hear the sound of water running. Marta comes out a few minutes later, her face tired."She's inside, sir. Only the wrist cuffs remain. I took off the ankle ones. But… she's very aggressive.""Leave her," I answer quietly. "Go to sleep. I'll handle the rest."When the house finally falls silent, I walk to the bathroom door. I don't knock. I just open it.Elara is standing under the hot shower, her back to me. The water runs down her body, wetting her black hair s
The car cuts through the dark road in silence. I'm in the back seat, next to her. Elara is pressed against the opposite door, as far away from me as possible, wrists and ankles still cuffed. Her green eyes won't stop shooting daggers at me. Every time I breathe, I feel the weight of that hatred burning my skin.I don't say anything during the entire ride. I just watch.She's even more beautiful up close. Even with the bruise on her face and the torn dress, there's something fierce about her. Something that makes me want to break and protect at the same time.Forty minutes later, the iron gates of the mansion open. The house is isolated, surrounded by dense forest and a dark lake in the back. Perfect for keeping someone hidden. Perfect for keeping her safe.The security guards stop the car. I get out first and walk around. When I open her door, Elara tries to kick me. I catch her leg easily and pull her out.— Don't make this harder — I murmur, holding her arm firmly.— Let go of me, y
Author's NoteDear readers,When I finished Maeve, Zion, Luka, and Elias's story, I thought their possessive and chaotic love had found the ending it deserved. But shadows never truly sleep.Now, years later, it's time to tell Nolan Rhodes's story.The boy who grew up in the midst of chaos. The man who carries the blood of a monster and the heart of someone who learned to love in the only way he knows: intense, dangerous, and absolutely possessive.In this new arc, everything changes. The narrative is now his—in first person, raw, and unfiltered. You will enter Nolan's mind, feel his obsession, his rage, his fear of becoming like his father, and the overwhelming desire to protect (and possess) the only woman who managed to breach his walls.Prepare for an even darker, more toxic, and more burning dark-romance. With clandestine auctions, hatred that turns to fire, possession that burns, and a love that hurts as much as it heals.Elara Kane will not just be a woman. She will be the begi
The blood-red dress is spread across the bed like a declaration of war.There is no choice in the fabric that Luka deposits there with the precision of a surgeon preparing instruments. Thin crepe, a neckline that turns breathing into a spectacle, and an open back down to the base of the spine. It is
Zion continues sliding the cold strawberry over my nipple, circling slowly, teasing. Elias keeps two fingers pressed against my soaked entrance, opening me, but without penetrating—just feeling how wet and desperate I am.“Say it,” Elias repeats, his voice deep and relentless. “Say you want us. Or
Time inside this suite becomes something viscous and cruel.Minutes stretch like hours. I no longer know if thirty minutes or three hours have passed since the door closed with that final click. The digital clock on the nightstand reads 23:47, but the black sea beyond the panoramic windows offers n
My eyes open slowly, heavily, as if the whole world were submerged in dark molasses. The first thing I feel is the gentle rocking—not of a car, nor of an ordinary bed. It’s the constant, deep motion of something large slicing through the sea. The scent of salt, varnished wood, and expensive luxury







