The limo glided through the city like a shark through dark water, tinted windows reflecting neon scars. I sat rigid, briefcase digging into my thighs like a guilty conscience. Across from me, the man who’d saved my life twice wore a midnight suit tailored to lethal perfection—cufflinks flashing, tie knotted with surgical precision. No helmet. No scar. No ink. Just polished boardroom predator.

“Miss Aurora,” he said, voice smooth as aged whiskey, clipped with authority. “A pleasure. I’m Mr. Arlington. Investments, acquisitions, the occasional indulgence in fine art.” He tilted his head, studying me like a balance sheet. “You looked rather invested in that jade pendant.”

My pulse stuttered. “You called me Lotus.”

A flicker—amusement—crossed his face before the mask slid back. “Did I? Must’ve misheard the auctioneer. Names blur in rooms like that.” He sipped from a crystal tumbler, amber liquid catching passing streetlights. “But I saw you. Back row, seventy-nine million. Desperate bid. Tell me, why the pendant?”

I swallowed, throat dry as the race track. “You know why. You were there last night.”

His eyebrows lifted, polite surprise. “Last night? I was at a gala in the Hamptons. Photos exist, if you’d like proof.” He leaned forward, elbows on knees, voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “Though I must say, the way you held that briefcase—like it might sprout wings and fly—quite captivating.”

Heat flooded my cheeks. He was teasing, damn him. “Cut the act. You stopped the race. You saved me outside. You’re Dax.”

“Mr. Arlington,” he corrected, but his eyes danced. “And I simply noticed a lady in distress. The pendant, however—” He reached into his jacket, produced a velvet box, snapped it open. The jade dragon gleamed, pearl luminous. “I could see you wanted it. Badly.”

My breath caught. “You bought it. For a hundred million.”

“One-ten with fees.” He shrugged, casual as tipping a waiter. “Call it a hunch. You strike me as someone who turns losses into leverage.”

I stared at the pendant, then at him. “You know my name. My real one. How?”

Before he could answer, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, and the mask cracked—just for a second. A frown, sharp and dangerous, carved his face. He turned the phone toward me.

A bounty poster. My face—grainy, from the auction—stared back. Aurora Kane, aka, LOTUS. 50M DEAD. 100M ALIVE. My real name, Aurora Kane, in smaller print beneath. A photo of the jade pendant circled in red.

“I told me to disappear.” He pocketed the phone, smile gone. “I told you to leave this fucking city,” he snarled, the businessman veneer shattering. “You stayed back to play rich bitch, huh? Parading in that suit, millions like it’s Monopoly money. You think this is a game?”

The limo swerved; my stomach lurched. “I—I had to—”

“You had to what? Get your brother killed?” His voice cut like glass. “Winning that race wasn’t a prize, Aurora. It was a declaration. I defended you—publicly. That offends factions, factions. There are scripts in this city. You were meant to lose the money or your life. Preferably both.”

The air thickened, suffocating. My hands shook as I fumbled for my phone, dialed Adrian. One ring. Two.

“Yo, cunt,” a voice snarled through the speaker, not Adrian’s. “We got your brother. Clock’s ticking.” Click. Dead.

The phone slipped from my fingers, clattered to the floor. Panic clawed up my throat, sharp as the dagger from earlier. I lunged across the seat, grabbing his lapels, tears blurring my vision. “Please. Save my brother.”

He froze, eyes locking on mine. I saw it—the pause, the way his gaze traced my face like he was memorizing every tear, every tremor. His jaw tightened, something raw flickering behind the businessman facade. The city lights strobed across his eyes, turning them liquid mercury.

“Please,” I whispered, voice breaking. “He’s all I have.”

Dax’s POV

Her hands fisted in my lapels, knuckles white, tears carving silver tracks down cheeks still smudged with last night’s grit.

Aurora—Lotus—pleading not for herself, but for the idiot brother who’d gambled her into this grave. I’d built walls of steel and secrets, but her eyes—wild, terrified, fierce—cracked something I’d buried deep.

I’d never felt loved. Not like this. Not a sister's love, or mother's, or father's, I had survived like a snake, alone. Not selfless. Not real.

If only…

The warmth of her grip burned through my shirt, straight into a heart I’d long declared bankrupt. She doesn’t even know my real name, I thought, and still she trusts me with her world. That trust was a blade—beautiful, lethal, impossible to hold without bleeding.

I wanted to pull her close, press my mouth to those tears, promise her oceans and sunsets and a life without shadows. But love was a luxury I couldn’t afford; it got people killed.

She was light—reckless, brave, alive—and I was the dark that swallowed light. If I let her in, I’d drag her under. Better to push her away, keep her breathing, keep her safe.

“One more time—” she started, then choked on the words, as if saying it aloud might curse us both.

“Please,” she shouted, the sound raw, desperate, a blade to the gut.

The plea snapped something inside me. I caught her wrists, gentle but firm. “Alright,” I said, voice steady despite the storm inside. “I’ll save him.”

Her sob hit me harder than any punch—relief and grief braided together. I released her, hit the intercom. “Den. Now.”

The partition lowered. “Yes, sir.”

I looked back at her—curled into the seat, arms wrapped around herself, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. The jade pendant glinted between us, a promise and a curse. Stay away from her heart, I told myself. Save the brother, then cut her loose. But even as I thought it, I knew the lie. She was already under my skin, and the city was about to burn for it.

The city blurred past, but all I saw was her. And for the first time in years, I wasn’t sure who I was saving—him, or me.