HE IS A RED FLAG I'M A PYROMANIAC

"If you're going to shoot me, do it now. I hate waiting."

The man in the velvet chair didn't blink. He just sipped his whiskey like we weren't two seconds from killing each other.

I didn't flinch, even with four armed men behind me and the burn of a Glock digging into my ribs. If anything, the longer he stared, the calmer I got.

Control is always quiet.

"Raven Moretti." His voice was low, lazy, lethal. "The ghost herself. You've been busy."

I smirked. "I multitask."

He set the glass down. No ice. No noise. Just power in human form.

God, I hated him already.

Jaxon Vega.

The billionaire with blood on his boots and a bank account soaked in war crimes. Tech mogul. Mafia-born. Former heir to the Vega cartel if rumors were true and the man my mother had once warned me about with trembling hands and a bottle of vodka.

And now, the buyer of my last piece of leverage.

"I assume you've looked at the files," I said, chin high. "So you know what's on them."

"I know what they're worth," he replied, nodding once to one of his men.

A thick envelope slid across the table toward me.

I didn't move.

"You're not curious?" he asked.

"I don't trust anything wrapped in elegance. Especially not from a Vega."

His mouth quirked like he wasn't sure whether to be amused or offended.

"Smart girl."

"No," I said. "Just burned."

The envelope was light. Too light.

Inside: one single photo. Of me.

Taken that morning.

"Cute, right?" Jaxon said, almost bored. "I like the one where you're wiring explosives to your laptop under a diner booth."

My heart dropped and I masked it with a glare.

"You were never selling those files, Raven," he continued smoothly. "You were baiting the sharks. Trying to see who would swim toward you."

"You're not denying that you're one of them."

"Oh, I am one of them." He stood. Tall. Dark suit, darker eyes. "But I'm the one that keeps you alive."

"Why?"

The word fell out before I could stop it.

His reply?

"Because, sweetheart, you just walked into my web. And I'd rather trap you than kill you."

Flashback, 2 days earlier

Two nights ago, I'd gotten a message.

Blocked number. Encrypted email. Simple terms.

Meet me at The Vesper Club. Bring the files. No copies.

J

I should've run.

Instead, I wore my mother's black coat and loaded a pistol into my boot.

Back to Present

I didn't sit. Didn't blink.

"You think I won't blow this whole place just to take you down with me?" I asked.

Jaxon raised an eyebrow.

"I think you don't want to die," he said. "And I think you're desperate enough to gamble."

He stepped close. Close enough to smell his cologne cedar and smoke.

Close enough to feel the heat bleeding off his skin.

"I'm offering you protection," he said. "A deal."

"No one offers protection for free."

"You're right. I want something."

He reached into his pocket.

Pulled out a small, black flash drive.

Not mine.

But I recognized the engraving.

El Diablo. My father's codename. The last thing tying me to the family I abandoned.

"I've had this for five years," Jaxon murmured. "Encrypted. Uncrackable. Until now."

He held it out.

"You give me your files. I give you this. And we call it even."

I hesitated.

Because the only person who ever touched that drive... was dead.

Or so I thought.

"Where did you get that?"

"I killed the man who was holding it," he said, simply. "But the real question is... do you want what's on it bad enough to trust me?"

I snatched the drive from his hand.

My fingers shook.

Not from fear.

From fury.

From fire.

He smiled.

"You're staying with me now," he said, like it was already decided.

"Excuse me?"

"Security reasons. You just put a target on your back the size of Chicago."

I laughed. Cold.

"I've had a target on my back since the day I was born."

He didn't argue.

Just turned and walked toward the elevator.

"Come willingly, or I'll carry you out," he called over his shoulder. "Your choice."

I stayed rooted.

Because the drive in my hand buzzed twice.

Encrypted message detected.

I knew that pattern.

Only two people in the world had that signal.

Me.

And my brother.

Who was supposed to be dead.

The moment I stepped into Jaxon Vega's elevator, the flash drive lit up and blinked red.

Incoming message: DON'T TRUST HIM.

The letters flashed red once before vanishing from the screen like they'd never existed.

I stared down at the drive in my palm, cold metal warming against my skin.

Impossible.

Only one person used that encryption key.

And he'd been buried in pieces.

I made sure of it.

Unless...

"You okay?"

Jaxon's voice cut through my spiral like a scalpel.

I snapped the lid on the flash drive shut and forced my face blank. "Peachy."

The elevator hummed upward. Fast. Quiet. Dangerous.

Just like him.

"Who did you kill to get this?" I asked.

He didn't answer.

Typical.

I studied his profile instead. Strong jaw, blood-born calm, and the kind of presence that made everyone else in a room forget their name. His suit was sharp. His mouth was sharper. But his eyes?

Dead. Absolutely dead.

Until they landed on me.

"You're not afraid of me," he said. Not a question. An observation.

"No." I shifted slightly, one hand still on the inside of my coat, where the knife sat.

"I'm afraid of what you make me want."

His eyes flicked down to my lips, then to my fingers curled in steel.

"Violence?" he asked.

"Control."

The elevator dinged.

Penthouse. Of course.

Doors slid open, revealing a wide, dimly lit space of black floors, dark windows, and chrome everything. Like stepping into the belly of a wolf.

A woman in a fitted suit greeted us. "Ms. Moretti," she said, bowing her head.

I didn't correct her. Didn't remind her I stopped using that name the day I set fire to the Moretti estate.

Jaxon stepped aside and gestured for me to enter first.

"After you."

Gentlemanly. If the gentleman in question could also casually order a hit over dinner.

I stepped in.

Three things hit me immediately:

The cameras. Hidden well, but I could feel their gaze.

The silence. Like the apartment was waiting for something to break.

The piano. A single grand piano in the center of the room, untouched but polished, like a memory someone didn't know how to let go of.

"This is where you keep your prisoners?" I asked, walking past him.

"This is where I keep the people I don't want dead."

He brushed past me. Close. Not touching. But enough to make every hair on my neck rise like it recognized its predator.

He handed his jacket off to the assistant. "Room's ready?"

"Security system updated. Vault moved."

Vault?

He didn't elaborate.

I turned back. "Where's my room?"

He smiled.

"Left hallway, last door. No locks on your side. Three on mine."

Of course.

"And if I try to leave?"

He paused.

"Then I'll assume you want me to chase you."

I rolled my eyes and walked to the hallway. Found the room.

Clean. Minimal. Grey sheets. Camera in the corner.

I flicked it off with one button and slid my bag under the bed.

Then I pulled out my second flash drive.

Not the one he gave me.

Mine. The original. The one I'd been trying to trade.

And now?

Now I had two.

And two problems.

I sat on the edge of the bed and synced the drives together. Cross-encryption.

The red light on the second drive blinked once. Twice.

Incoming File: PLAY ME

My heart slowed.

That voice again.

Same key. Same code.

I pressed play.

"If you're seeing this... he already has you."

"Don't let him near the vault."

"He's not after your files, Raven. He's after you."

I slammed the laptop shut.

My hands were shaking.

No.

No.

That voice.

It wasn't my brother.

It was my mother's.

And she died right in front of me.

The door opened.

Jaxon stepped in without knocking.

Of course he did.

"Dinner's ready."

I stood, keeping my expression still. "I'm not hungry."

He didn't move. "That wasn't a question."

"I'm not one of your bodyguards you can order around."

"No," he said, stepping closer. "You're not. You're the wildcard I let into my house. And I don't like surprises."

We stood close. Too close.

"You're hiding something," I said.

"So are you."

"Why am I really here?"

He studied me.

Then, low and quiet, almost like he hated the words

"Because if I didn't bring you here... they would've killed you."

I blinked. "Who?"

He hesitated. Just for a second. But I caught it.

"The people who paid your father to kill your mother," he said.

My stomach turned.

"What did you just say?"

"I've known since the day I got that drive. And I've been waiting for you to figure it out." He leaned closer. "You're not a loose end. You're the trigger."

A scream echoed from down the hall.

Jaxon turned fast, hand already at his gun.

"Stay here," he snapped.

But I was already moving.

I wasn't the kind of girl who stayed behind.

Not anymore.