LOGINEPILOGUE[TRISTAN’S POV][TWO YEARS LATER.]"Papa! Papa, look!"Gerald is running, which is a generous word for what he does, more of a determined wobble-sprint that takes him across the grass in the general direction of the swings, arms pumping, blond hair catching the afternoon sun the exact same way his father's does.His father being Carlton, not me, though I have long since stopped feeling territorial about which of us he resembles more. He has my jaw, apparently, my build already showing in the broad set of his small shoulders, but Carlton's eyes. That impossible arctic blue, looking out at the world like he's already deciding what he wants to do with it.He's two years old and already has more opinions than half the men I used to negotiate with."I'm looking," I call after him, jogging to keep pace, which should not be as difficult as it is for a man who has survived three assassination attempts and a war with the Volkov bratva, but apparently chasing a toddler across a playgr
[CARLTON’S POV][ONE YEAR LATER.]"You're two months pregnant?!"Tristan's voice cracks on the question, bouncing off the white walls of the exam room loud enough that a nurse passing in the hallway pokes her head in to check nothing has caught fire.I am lying on the table with gel still cold on my stomach, staring at the ultrasound monitor like it might change its mind if I look hard enough."That's what the screen says," I tell him."That's what three separate doctors say," Damon adds from the corner, arms crossed, looking like a man who showed up for moral support and got a plot twist instead.The room is full. Too full, technically, for a hospital exam room, but nobody had the heart to make anyone leave once word got out. Declan, hovering protectively close to Damon's shoulder, the way he has for the last six months since they got serious. Amanda, who flew in from her semester abroad the second I texted her the words I need you here, and who has been gripping my hand since the d
[TRISTAN’S POV]"Why are you doing this?" I ask, and I'm on my knees now, completely vulnerable in a way I haven't been since I was a child. "Tell me why."Yosef's laugh is the laugh of a ghost—something that exists in the space between life and death, between hope and despair. His hand tightens on the knife, and I watch as Carlton flinches at the pressure."You know the answer," Yosef says, and his voice cracks on the words. "I've always known it, and you've always known it too."He's right.I've known for years what Yosef's obsession represented—the unrequited love of a man who gave up everything, who surrendered his legacy, who made himself small and broken just for a chance to be near someone who could never love him back the way he needed to be loved.I was his first obsession. His only obsession. And then Carlton walked into my life, and I made the choice that destroyed my brother.Everyone appears within seconds of each other. Declan limping slightly from a bullet wound in his
[TRISTAN’S POV] ONE MONTH LATER.Flashback!!!!The phone call comes at three in the morning, and I know before I even open my eyes that something has shattered.Selene's voice is sharp, professional, but underneath it, I can hear the tremor of someone who's trying very hard not to fall apart. "He's gone."Those two words are enough to stop my heart.I'm out of bed before she finishes the sentence, already reaching for my clothes, my mind cataloging weapons and exit strategies and the thousand different ways I'm going to destroy whoever took Carlton from me."What happened?" My voice comes out like something dragged across gravel."The nightclub. Two hours ago. He went to the bathroom and never came back."The memory of last night hits me like a physical blow.Carlton on his knees in front of me in the private banister, his mouth working my cock with the kind of enthusiasm that made me want to take him right there in front of everyone. His face when he pulled away, cum and spit coati
[CARLTON’S POV]Consciousness comes back slowly, like I'm swimming up through dark water and the surface is so far away that I'm not sure I'll make it before my lungs give out.The first thing I'm aware of is pain: a deep, bone-level ache that radiates from my core and extends outward in waves.The second thing is the steady beeping of monitors, the smell of antiseptic, the particular quality of light that belongs only to hospital rooms.The third thing is Tristan.He's slumped in the chair beside my bed, his head tilted back at an uncomfortable angle, his eye closed in sleep that looks like it might be the first he's gotten in days. He's still covered in blood—dried now, dark against his pale skin—and there are bruises along his jaw that suggest he's been in at least three separate fights since I went under.My voice comes out as a croak, barely a whisper. "Hunter."His eye snaps open immediately, and for a moment, I think he might cry. I've never seen Tristan look at anything with
[TRISTAN’S POV]I come awake like something violent is dragging me out of the deep.The sedative is still in my bloodstream, making everything feel slow and thick and impossible to process. My eye—the good one—opens to find myself in the hospital room, and the rage that floods through me is so immediate and all-consuming that it takes me a moment to realize what's actually happening.Carlton is in the ICU.Carlton is dying.The realization hits me with the force of a physical blow, and I'm on my feet before my body is fully conscious, before I've properly processed why I'm here, before I understand the full scope of what Carlton did while I was unconscious.He went in alone.He faced Delinda alone.He got himself poisoned while I was out cold like some weak bastard who couldn't handle a simple sedative.The rage doesn't diminish: it just transforms into something sharper and more focused. I'm moving through the hospital like a man possessed, and everyone has the good sense to get ou





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