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.

The next morning came too fast. I hadn't slept at all. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the man with the knife or the look of pure rage on Kaelen's face.

Kaelen didn't give me time to process anything. By 8:00 AM, he was back in my room. He didn't knock. He just walked in, looking perfectly polished in a black suit as if he hadn't just beaten a man to death a few hours ago.

"Get dressed," he said. He tossed a shopping bag onto the bed. "We're going out."

I looked inside the bag. It wasn't a dress this time. It was a pair of high-end black leather pants, a silk top, and a blazer that looked like it cost more than my car.

"Where are we going?" I asked, pulling the clothes out.

"To a meeting," Kaelen said. He was cleaning his gun at the vanity table, his movements mechanical and calm. "The Romanovs think they can put a price on your head and get away with it. We're going to show them that you belong to me. And a Volkov never lets go of what's his."

I dressed quickly. My hand was still bandaged, but the pain had settled into a dull throb. When I walked out of the bathroom, Kaelen looked me up and down. For a split second, I saw a flicker of something-admiration, maybe-in his cold eyes.

"You look like you belong at my side," he said. He reached out and tucked a stray hair behind my ear. His fingers were warm, and for a moment, I forgot that he was a killer. "Remember, Ivy. Don't look at the floor. Look at them like they're dirt under your shoes. If you look weak, they'll pounce."

We left the estate in a black SUV with tinted windows. Two other cars followed us, filled with guards. We drove into the heart of the city, stopping in front of a high-end social club owned by the Romanov family.

The air inside the club was thick with the smell of expensive cigars and heavy perfume. Men in suits and women in diamonds turned to stare as we walked in. Kaelen didn't slow down. He gripped my waist, pulling me close to his side as we walked toward the back of the club.

A large man with a scarred face blocked our path. "Volkov. You weren't invited."

Kaelen didn't even blink. "I don't need an invitation to my own funeral, and I certainly don't need one to yours. Move."

The man looked at Kaelen, then at the guards behind us. He stepped aside.

We entered a private lounge. Sitting on a velvet sofa was a man in his fifties with greasy hair and a mean smile. This was Grigory Romanov.

"Kaelen," Grigory said, spreading his arms wide. "I heard you found a new toy. I didn't believe the rumors until I saw her. She's much prettier than the bounty hunters described."

Kaelen sat down in a chair opposite him, pulling me onto his lap. It was a bold, possessive move that caught me off guard, but I remembered what he said. I didn't flinch. I sat tall, resting my hand-the one with the massive diamond-on his shoulder.

"She's not a toy, Grigory," Kaelen said, his voice like ice. "She's my fiancée. And you put a million-dollar hit on her. That's a very expensive mistake."

Grigory laughed. "Is it? Your father wants her dead, Kaelen. Everyone knows it. I'm just trying to do the old man a favor. Besides, why do you care about some girl from the streets?"

"She's not from the streets," I said. My voice was surprisingly steady.

Both men looked at me. Kaelen's grip on my waist tightened, but he didn't stop me.

I looked Grigory right in the eye, just like Kaelen had taught me. "I am Ivy Thorne. My father was Silas Thorne. And if you think a million dollars is enough to buy my life, you're even poorer than I thought."

The room went silent. Grigory's smile vanished. The name 'Thorne' still had power in this city, and he knew it. If the daughter of the city's most respected boss was back, the rules of the game had changed.

"Silas Thorne is dead," Grigory hissed.

"His legacy isn't," Kaelen added, leaning forward. He placed his hand over mine on his shoulder. "I'm taking over the Volkov empire, Grigory. And Ivy is going to be sitting right next to me. If another one of your men comes within a mile of her, I won't just kill him. I'll burn this club down with you inside it."

Kaelen stood up, pulling me with him. We walked out of the club without looking back. The silence we left behind felt like the calm before a storm.

Once we were back in the car, the adrenaline finally hit me. I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window. "They're going to kill us, aren't they?"

Kaelen looked at me. He reached out and took my bandaged hand, kissing the palm gently. "They're going to try. but they'll have to go through me first."

"Why did you let me tell him who I am?" I asked. "You said we had to keep it a secret."

"Because a secret makes you a victim," Kaelen said, his eyes glowing with a strange fire. "A name makes you a queen. If we're going to survive my father, we need the city to be on our side. And the city still loves your father."

He pulled me closer, resting his chin on top of my head. "You did well today, Little Bird. You've officially started a war."

I closed my eyes. I had started as a cellist, a girl who lived in the shadows. Now, I was the face of a revolution. I didn't know if I would survive the night, but as I felt Kaelen's heart beating against my back, I realized I didn't want to be anywhere else.