Chapter 2 The King Mafia's Wrath

Killian Black had been many things in his thirty-four years...soldier, assassin, mercenary. He'd stared down death in dark alleyways, in foreign deserts, and on the bloodied steps of his enemies.

But this...this was different.

Standing in front of Marco DeLuca, the man who ruled the East Coast mafia like a king commands his kingdom, Killian felt the familiar bite of risk...not fear, but the sharp anticipation of violence held just beneath the surface.

"You touched my daughter," Marco said.

Not a question. A declaration laced with restrained rage.

"I did," Killian replied, calm as ever.

"Did I fucking hire you to fuck her?"

"No."

"Then why was your cock inside my daughter before you even fired a bullet in her name?"

The room fell silent.

Lucien, Marco's right-hand man, stood at the edge of the office, his hand hovering over the pistol at his hip. His jaw ticked, his tattooed fingers twitching.

Killian didn't look at him. His eyes were on Marco.

"She was in danger. I eliminated the threat. The rest..." His jaw tightened. "It happened."

Marco's nostrils flared. He rose from behind his desk, slow and deliberate.

"I don't give a fuck what happened. She's mine, Killian. She's the one soft thing I have left in this godforsaken world, and you put your filthy hands on her like she's some street whore in a club."

Killian stood his ground. "She's not a little girl anymore. You put a grown woman in a club full of predators with no leash and expected her to behave like a nun. She pushed. I pushed back."

Marco's chair slammed into the wall as he strode forward, eyes blazing. "You think this is about her behavior? This is about you. You're not some teenage punk. You know the rules. You don't fuck the don's daughter."

Killian didn't flinch. "And you don't put your daughter in a warzone and expect her not to reach for the first man who makes her feel safe."

Lucien stepped forward. "That's enough."

Marco raised a hand, stopping him.

"You want to die for her, is that it?"

"No," Killian said. "But I will if I have to."

Marco stared at him.

A long beat of silence passed between them, so thick it could've been cut with a knife.

Then, slowly, Marco turned and walked back to his desk.

"You're lucky I need you."

Killian exhaled quietly.

Marco grabbed a decanter and poured himself two fingers of bourbon. "You're going to protect her. From now on, you don't leave her side. Not at night. Not in public. Not even to take a piss unless I say so. She's your job. Your shadow."

Killian nodded. "Understood."

Marco took a sip, then added, "Touch her again without my blessing, and I'll rip your heart out and feed it to the rats in my wine cellar."

Lucien smirked.

"Understood," Killian said again.

"Good." Marco looked up. "Because you'll be sleeping under the same roof. I want eyes on her at all times."

Killian's expression didn't change, but inside, a flicker of something dangerous sparked.

Sleeping under the same roof?

He knew what that meant.

Temptation. Constant. Unrelenting.

Sienna's Bedroom – Later That Night

Sienna sat on her window seat, knees tucked under her chin, gazing out at the vast, moonlit grounds of her father's estate. Her long black hair tumbled over her shoulder, and her silk robe clung to her like temptation sewn in satin.

She heard the knock before she saw him.

"Come in," she said softly, not turning.

The door creaked open.

"I'm not supposed to be here," Killian's deep voice rumbled.

"I know," she whispered.

She didn't move.

He stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the soft light from the hallway. His black shirt stretched over his broad shoulders, sleeves rolled to his elbows, tattoos peeking through like whispers of violence.

"I thought he'd kill you," she said.

"He almost did."

She finally looked at him. "And yet, you came."

Killian stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

"I'm your bodyguard now. Twenty-four seven. No more distance."

Her brow lifted. "Convenient."

He crossed the room, each step heavy with restraint. "Don't twist this."

"Too late." She stood and walked toward him slowly. "Tell me you didn't think about last night all day. Tell me you don't want to do it again. Right now."

He caught her by the wrist before she could touch him. His grip was firm but not painful.

"Sienna..."

"I liked the way you said my name when you were inside me," she whispered, stepping closer.

"You're not helping."

"You're not stopping."

"I should."

"But you won't."

He looked into her eyes, and she saw it...the fire he tried to bury beneath duty.

A knock on the door made them both jump.

Lucien's voice came through. "We've got a situation. Living room. Now."

Killian released her hand. The moment shattered.

She watched him go, her pulse still racing.

Main Hall – Ten Minutes Later

Marco stood at the center of the room, holding a tablet. His face was thunder.

Killian and Lucien arrived together.

Marco didn't say a word. He just turned the screen to face them.

A paused video feed.

Sienna.

Walking out of Club Crimson last night.

Someone had circled her face in red.

And under the image, in jagged white font:

"If he can't protect her from himself... he can't protect her from me."

Killian's blood ran cold.

"Where did it come from?" he asked.

"Encrypted email. Sent directly to me, and only me."

"Could be one of the rival families," Lucien muttered.

"No," Killian said darkly. "This is personal."

Marco turned to him, voice low. "You said someone had a wire at the club."

"I did."

"This means whoever was listening wasn't after me," Marco said slowly. "They were after her."

Killian's jaw clenched. "They're escalating."

"Damn right they are." Marco pointed at him. "If she gets so much as a paper cut..."

"She won't."

Marco nodded. "Good. Because if she does, I'll bury you with her."

Later That Night – Sienna's Wing

Killian stood outside her door.

He hadn't knocked yet.

He'd just been standing there. Listening.

Through the door, he heard music. Soft. Some jazz record playing in the background. The clink of ice in a glass.

He knocked twice.

She answered in a different robe...this one black and barely tied, her cleavage framed like an invitation.

"What's wrong?" she asked immediately.

He stepped inside, shut the door, locked it.

Then he showed her the image.

Her mouth parted slightly.

"They're threatening me?" she said.

"Yes."

"Because of you?"

"Yes."

Something glittered in her eyes. Not fear. Not anger.

Thrill.

She licked her lips. "I've never had someone want me dead before. Over sex."

Killian growled. "This isn't a game."

"I know." She stepped closer. "But I'm not scared."

"You should be."

"I'm not scared," she repeated. "Because you're here."

Her fingers brushed his jaw.

He didn't pull away.

"Say it," she whispered.

"Say what?"

"That you want me."

"No."

"Say it."

He stared down at her. "You're the most reckless, infuriating, impossible woman I've ever met."

"And?"

"I want you."

She smiled.

Just as the glass window behind her exploded.

Sienna screamed as Killian grabbed her and hit the floor.

Gunshots. Two. No...three.

Killian shielded her body with his, rolling them toward the side of the bed.

He pulled his gun from his waistband, already moving, eyes sweeping the shadows.

"Stay down!" he barked.

Sirens blared in the distance. Guards shouted in the hallway.

And in the wreckage of shattered glass and wind, Killian saw it.

A sniper's note pinned to the curtain with a bullet.

In red ink, it read:

"Round one. Try again, protector."