The red silk dress Kaelen picked was beautiful, but it felt like a trap. It was tight, showing off every curve, and the color was the exact shade of the blood I had seen in the alley.

I stood in front of the mirror, staring at the diamond on my finger. It sparkled under the lights, mocking me. To the world, I was a lucky girl engaged to a rich, powerful man. In reality, I was a witness who was one wrong word away from a bullet.

"Stop shaking," Kaelen's voice came from behind me.

I turned around. He was standing in the doorway, wearing a dark grey suit that made him look like a shadow. He walked toward me, his heavy boots silent on the rug. He stopped right in front of me and placed his large hands on my shoulders. His touch was firm, grounding me.

"My father is going to watch you tonight," Kaelen said, his eyes locking onto mine. "He's going to look for any sign that you're lying. If he thinks you're just a witness, he will kill you right at the table. Do you understand?"

I swallowed hard. "I'm not a good liar, Kaelen."

"Then don't lie," he said, his voice dropping to a low growl. "Just look at me. Pretend I'm the only thing in the world that matters. If you get scared, look into my eyes and stay silent. I'll do the talking."

He led me out of the room and down a long hallway. The house was quiet, but it didn't feel peaceful. It felt like a bomb waiting to go off. We went down a grand staircase and into a dining room that looked like something out of a movie.

At the end of a long, black table sat an older man. He had silver hair and a face that looked like it was carved out of stone. This was Viktor Volkov. The Don.

"So," Viktor said. His voice was raspy, like he had spent years screaming. "This is the girl who has my son acting like a fool."

Kaelen didn't flinch. He pulled out a chair for me and sat me down before taking his own seat. "She isn't a fool, Father. She's mine. I've kept her hidden because I knew you'd react like this."

Viktor didn't look at Kaelen. He stared at me. His eyes were cold and dead. He looked at my face, then down at my neck. He froze. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the star-shaped birthmark on my skin.

The silence in the room became heavy. I could hear the clock ticking on the wall. It felt like the air was being sucked out of the room.

"That mark," Viktor whispered. He leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the table. "I've seen that before. Many years ago."

I felt Kaelen stiffen beside me. My heart started thudding against my ribs. "It's... it's just a birthmark, sir," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

Viktor didn't seem to hear me. He was lost in a memory. "Silas Thorne had a daughter with a mark just like that. But she died in a fire. I saw the house burn myself."

Kaelen laughed, but it sounded forced. "You're seeing ghosts, Father. Ivy is from a foster home in the city. She has nothing to do with the Thornes. She's just a girl I fell for."

Viktor finally looked away from me and stared at his son. "Is she? Because a witness needs to die, Kaelen. That is the rule. If she is truly your fiancée, she needs to prove her loyalty to this family. We don't have room for weak women."

He snapped his fingers. Two guards entered the room, dragging a man whose face was covered in bruises. They threw him onto the floor at the end of the table. The man groaned, coughing up blood.

"This man was caught stealing from our warehouse," Viktor said. He picked up a sharp steak knife from the table and held it out toward me. "If you are going to be a Volkov, you can't be afraid of blood. Finish him, and I'll believe you're one of us."

I stared at the knife. The metal glinted in the candlelight. My hands started to tremble. I looked at the man on the floor. He was begging with his eyes, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"She doesn't need to do this," Kaelen said, his voice turning dangerous.

"Yes, she does," Viktor snapped. "Or she dies with him."

I looked at Kaelen. He was watching me, his jaw tight. I knew what he was thinking. Do it or we both die.

I reached out and took the knife. It was heavier than I expected. I stood up, my legs feeling like they were going to give out. I walked toward the man on the floor. Every step felt like a mile.

I looked down at the prisoner. I couldn't do it. I was a musician, not a murderer. But then I saw Viktor watching me, a cruel smile on his face. He wanted me to fail. He wanted an excuse to kill me.

I turned the knife in my hand. Instead of stabbing the man, I pressed the blade into my own palm and sliced hard.

I let out a sharp gasp as the pain flared. Red blood began to drip from my hand, splashing onto the white rug and the prisoner's shirt.

"What are you doing?" Viktor barked, standing up.

I turned to face him, holding my bleeding hand out so he could see it. "In my world, we don't kill the help for small mistakes," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. "I've already bled for this family tonight. My blood is on your floor now, Don Volkov. Is that not enough proof? Or do you want to keep testing the woman your son chose to marry?"

The room went dead silent. Kaelen stood up and moved to my side, his eyes wide with shock. Viktor stared at me, his expression unreadable. For a long moment, I thought he was going to kill me right there.

Then, he started to laugh. It was a dry, hollow sound.

"She has claws," Viktor said, sitting back down. "Dangerous claws. Fine. The girl stays. For now."

Kaelen grabbed my wrist, his thumb pressing against the wound to stop the bleeding. He didn't say anything, but the look he gave me was full of something I hadn't seen before. It wasn't just protection. It was respect.

He led me out of the room before the food was even served. As we walked back up the stairs, I felt dizzy from the pain and the fear.

"That was the bravest, stupidest thing I've ever seen," Kaelen whispered once we were in the hallway.

"I saved him," I whispered back.

"You saved yourself," Kaelen corrected me. He looked at my hand, his face darkening. "But now my father knows you're a threat. And in this house, threats don't live very long."

The door to the bedroom clicked shut, and the silence felt like a heavy weight. I stood in the middle of the room, my hand still wrapped in a bloody napkin. Now that the adrenaline was fading, the pain was starting to scream.

Kaelen didn't say a word. He walked to a small cabinet, pulled out a black medical kit, and pointed to the edge of the bed.

"Sit," he said. His voice was different now. It wasn't the cold, hard voice he used with his father. It sounded tight, like he was holding back a storm.

I sat down. My legs were shaking so hard I wasn't sure I could stand anyway. Kaelen knelt on the floor between my knees. He reached out and took my hand, his touch firm but careful. He unwrapped the napkin, and I hissed as the fabric pulled at the cut.

"I told you to act," he muttered, looking at the deep slice in my palm. "I didn't tell you to mutilate yourself."

"It was the only way," I whispered. I watched him pour antiseptic over the wound. It stung like fire, and I gripped the silk of my dress with my other hand. "Your father wanted me to be a killer, Kaelen. I couldn't do it. I'm not like you."

Kaelen stopped what he was doing and looked up at me. His blue eyes were dark. "You think I like doing what I do? You think I enjoy having blood on my hands every night?"

"You're good at it," I said, looking away.

"I'm good at it because I have to be," he snapped. He went back to stitching the wound. He was fast and precise. "In this family, if you aren't the one holding the knife, you're the one feeling the blade. You just invited my father to look at you more closely, Ivy. That was a mistake."

"He already knows, doesn't he?" I asked. "He mentioned the name Thorne. He saw the birthmark. He knows who I am."

Kaelen finished the last stitch and began wrapping my hand in clean white gauze. "He suspects. But as long as I say you're a nobody from the streets, he can't prove it. If he finds out the truth-that you're Silas Thorne's daughter-nothing I say will save you."

"Why does he hate my father's name so much?"

Kaelen stood up, towering over me. He walked to the window and stared out at the dark city. "Because Silas Thorne was a man of honor. My father... my father is a man of power. You can't have both in this world. Silas wanted to change things. He wanted to stop the drugs, stop the killing. So my father removed him."

I felt a chill run down my spine. "He killed him? My father was his best friend."

"Friendship means nothing to a Volkov," Kaelen said, turning to face me. "Only loyalty to the crown matters."

I looked at the diamond ring on my finger. "And you? Are you loyal to him?"

Kaelen walked back to me, stopping so close I could smell the whiskey and the iron on him. He leaned down, his hands resting on the bed on either side of me, pinning me in.

"I've spent fifteen years doing exactly what he told me to do," Kaelen whispered. His face was so close to mine I could see the tiny gold flecks in his blue eyes. "I became his shadow. His weapon. But then I saw you again in that alley. And for the first time in my life, I wanted to break the rules."

"Why me?" I breathed. My heart was beating so fast I thought he could see it through my dress.

Kaelen reached out, his thumb tracing my lower lip. It was a slow, heavy touch that made my breath hitch. "Because you're the only thing in this world that isn't stained, Ivy. You're the girl from the fire. And I'm the boy who should have let you burn but couldn't."

He leaned in closer. I should have pushed him away. I should have been afraid. But all I could feel was the heat between us.

"Kaelen..." I started, but my voice failed me.

"Don't," he murmured against my lips. "Don't say my name like that unless you mean it."

Just as his lips brushed mine, his phone vibrated on the nightstand. The sound was like a gunshot in the quiet room.

Kaelen pulled back, the warmth in his eyes vanishing instantly. He answered the phone, his face turning into a mask of stone. "Talk to me," he said.

He listened for a few seconds, his jaw tightening. "How many? Fine. Lock the gates. I'll be there in ten minutes."

He hung up and looked at me. The romantic tension was gone, replaced by pure, cold danger.

"What's happening?" I asked, standing up.

"The Romanovs," Kaelen said, grabbing a jacket from the chair. "They heard a rumor that I've found a 'prize.' They think if they kill you, they can start a war with my father while he's distracted. There's a hit out on you, Ivy. One million dollars to the man who brings them your head."

He walked to a drawer, pulled out a small, sleek pistol, and handed it to me.

"Kaelen, I don't know how to use this," I said, holding it like it was a poisonous snake.

"You'd better learn fast," he said, his eyes fierce. "I have to go to the docks to handle the breach. I've put guards at your door, but don't trust anyone. If someone who isn't me tries to come through that door, you pull the trigger. Do you understand?"

I looked at the gun, then at him. "Will you come back?"

Kaelen paused at the door. He looked at me, and for a split second, I saw the boy from the fire again. "I've been looking for you for fifteen years, Little Bird. I'm not losing you to a Romanov bullet."

Then he was gone, and the sound of the lock clicking felt like the start of a countdown.

The silence in the room was too heavy.

Kaelen had been gone for three hours. I sat on the edge of the bed, the silver pistol feeling cold and heavy in my lap. My hand throbbed where I had cut it earlier, the bandage starting to feel tight. I had never held a gun before. In my world, the only thing I ever held was a cello bow. Now, I was waiting to see if I would have to kill someone.

I looked at the clock on the wall. 2:14 AM.

Every little sound made me jump. The wind hitting the window. The hum of the air conditioner. The house felt alive, but not in a good way. It felt like it was waiting for something bad to happen.

Thump.

I froze. The sound didn't come from the hallway. It came from the balcony.

I held my breath, listening. There it was again-a soft, metallic scrape of boots against stone. My heart started racing so fast I felt dizzy. Kaelen said he had doubled the guards, but this was the third floor. How could anyone get up here?

I stood up, my legs shaking. I remembered what Kaelen told me. Don't trust anyone. Pull the trigger.

Suddenly, the glass door of the balcony shattered.

Glass exploded into the room, glittering like diamonds in the moonlight. A man in a black mask burst through the heavy curtains. He was big, and he had a jagged knife in his hand.

"Stay back!" I screamed, raising the gun with both hands.

The man didn't stop. He laughed, a low, nasty sound that made my skin crawl. "A million dollars for a little girl in a red dress? This is the easiest paycheck I've ever had."

He lunged at me. I squeezed the trigger.

Click.

Nothing happened. The gun didn't fire. My heart dropped into my stomach. The safety was on.

"Stupid girl," the man hissed.

He tackled me, slamming me back against the bed. The gun flew out of my hand and skidded across the floor. I fought him, scratching at his eyes and kicking with everything I had, but he was too strong. He pinned my wrists down, his heavy body crushing the air out of my lungs.

"The Romanovs want you alive," he said, his voice hot against my ear. "But they didn't say I couldn't break a few of your bones first."

He raised his knife. I shut my eyes tight, a sob breaking from my throat. Kaelen. Help me.

Suddenly, the bedroom door didn't just open-it was kicked off its hinges.

A shadow flew across the room. There was a sickening crack of bone, and the weight on top of me was gone.

I scrambled back, gasping for air. Kaelen was there. He didn't look like a man anymore; he looked like a demon. He had the intruder by the throat, slamming him into the wall so hard the plaster cracked.

Kaelen didn't use a gun. He used his bare hands. He punched the man over and over, his face twisted in a look of pure, animal rage. Blood sprayed across the white wallpaper, but Kaelen didn't stop until the man slumped to the floor, unmoving.

Kaelen stood over the body, his chest heaving. His suit jacket was gone, and his white shirt was covered in grease and blood. He turned his head slowly to look at me. His eyes were dark, almost black.

I shrank back against the headboard, terrified. I had never seen anyone be that violent.

Kaelen saw my face and stopped. The rage in his eyes flickered and died. He looked down at his bloody knuckles, then back at me. "Did he touch you?"

I couldn't speak. I just pointed to my arm, where dark red finger marks were already turning into bruises.

Kaelen walked toward me. He reached out, his hand trembling slightly. He touched the bruise with a gentleness that didn't match the blood on his face.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. His voice was raw. "I shouldn't have left you alone."

"Who was he?" I asked, my voice a tiny whimper.

"A dead man," Kaelen said coldly. He looked at the gun on the floor. He picked it up, flipped the safety off with his thumb, and handed it back to me. "Next time, Ivy, don't scream. Just shoot."

He sat on the edge of the bed next to me. He looked exhausted. He rested his head in his hands, and for a moment, the "Scary Enforcer" was gone.

"They won't stop," he said, staring at the floor. "The Romanovs, my father... they all want a piece of you because of who your father was."

I moved a little closer to him. "Tell me the truth, Kaelen. Please. My father... Silas Thorne. You knew him, didn't you?"

Kaelen looked at me. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an old, burnt scrap of a photograph. He handed it to me.

In the photo, two men were laughing. One was Viktor Volkov, much younger. The other was a man with a kind smile and eyes just like mine. He was holding a little girl with a star-shaped birthmark.

"They were partners," Kaelen said. "But my father grew greedy. He didn't want to share the city. So he ordered the hit. I was ten years old, Ivy. I was supposed to make sure no one got out of that house."

My breath hitched. The memory from my dreams-the fire, the smoke, the screaming. "But you didn't."

"I found you hiding under the piano," Kaelen whispered. "You were so small. You weren't crying. You just held out your hand to me. I couldn't do it. I couldn't let you die."

"You saved me," I realized. "You've been protecting me this whole time."

Kaelen stood up, his face hardening again. "I didn't save you to be a hero. I saved you because I knew one day, you'd be the only thing that could destroy my father. And now that day is here."

He looked at the door. "Get some rest, Ivy. Tomorrow, we go to the Romanov territory. We're going to show them that you aren't a prize. You're a Volkov."

As he walked away, I looked at the photo in my hand. I wasn't just a cellist anymore. I was a weapon in a war I didn't understand. And the man I was falling for was the same man who was supposed to kill me.