The sixth suitor never made it to the gates.

His body arrived instead wrapped in silk, lips sewn shut with crimson thread.

The box was placed at the front of my villa like a wedding gift.

There was a note pinned to his chest.

> “Your throne is not for sale.”

Jaxon stood beside me, jaw flexing, every muscle in his body wound tight.

“This isn’t a warning,” he said, low. “It’s a challenge.”

I crouched, brushing my fingers over the silk. Still warm. Whoever did ...