Catching sight of him, Celeste Vaughn’s polite smile froze into absolute stillness

The grand foyer of the Hawthorne estate was a cavernous space of polished marble and soaring archways, entirely devoid of the warmth present in the guest suite above. The cascading crystal chandeliers were unlit, the only illumination coming from the harsh security floodlights outside bleeding through the high, reinforced windows.

Evren descended the sweeping marble staircase with measured, deliberate steps. He had removed his vest, wearing only a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal the intricate, refined tattoos wrapping around his muscular forearms.

Standing in the center of the foyer, surrounded by six of Evren’s heavily armed enforcers, was Victor Vaughn. Celeste’s father was a ruthless, aging capo, his face flushed with arrogant rage, his heavy wool overcoat looking out of place amidst the tactical gear of the guards.

"Where is my daughter, Hawthorne?" Victor demanded, his voice echoing loudly in the cold space. "You have lost your damn mind! You cannot hold a Vaughn hostage in your own home!"

Evren stopped on the final step, towering over the older capo. His cold, watchful eyes analyzed Victor with the clinical detachment of a butcher observing livestock.

"Do you believe you give orders in my home, Victor?" Evren asked, his deep voice a low, terrifying rumble.

"I am not giving orders, I am giving you a final warning!" Victor spat, taking a step forward before Marcus’s massive hand slammed into his chest, stopping him dead. "Release Celeste right now, or the alliance is dead, and we go to war."

"Are you willing to die for a woman who attempts to murder her husband and bury him alive in a care home?" Evren asked, his jaw settling into a sharp, uncompromising line.

Victor sneered, trying to maintain his bravado. "He was a weak old fool! You are paranoid, Evren! You are letting a broken man and a maid dictate the politics of the entire eastern seaboard!"

"Do you consider the premeditated assassination of a spouse to be mere politics?" Evren inquired, stepping off the stairs and closing the distance between them until he was mere inches from Victor’s face.

"It's business!" Victor shouted, spit flying from his lips. "And right now, business dictates that you hand her over before I burn this place down!"

"Shall we see how much your business is worth when it is buried in ashes?" Evren asked softly.

"You're insane. Hand her over, Evren. This is your last chance," Victor hissed, lunging forward.

Before Victor could even raise his fist, Evren moved with blinding, lethal speed. He didn't draw a weapon. He simply reached out, his tattooed hand closing like a steel vice around the lapels of Victor's heavy overcoat. Evren lifted the older capo slightly off the marble floor with one arm, the sheer masculine power in his broad shoulders evident as Victor choked and thrashed wildly in the air, his polished leather shoes kicking uselessly.

"Did I invite you into my home to listen to your insults?" Evren asked, his cold eyes boring into Victor’s rapidly purpling face.

He held Victor suspended for three agonizing seconds before violently throwing him backward. Victor crashed onto the polished marble, gasping frantically for air, clutching his bruised chest, his overcoat ruined.

"Will you crawl back to your vehicles before I decide to keep you here as well?" Evren asked, looking down at the pathetic figure on the floor.

Marcus grabbed Victor by the collar and hauled him to his feet, shoving him roughly toward the heavy front doors. "Get out of here before the boss changes his mind."

Victor stumbled out the doors, coughing violently. As he reached his armored SUVs, he turned back, screaming a final, desperate threat. "You’re dead, Hawthorne! You hear me? We’re coming for you tonight!"

The heavy oak doors slammed shut, sealing the mansion once more.

Evren stood in the center of the foyer, casually adjusting his collar. The confrontation had barely raised his heart rate.

From the shadows of the second-floor landing, Lenna stood frozen, her hands gripping the carved wooden banister. She had disobeyed his order to stay in the room, terrified of what was happening below. She realized the massive, apocalyptic scale of the danger surrounding them. The entire city was about to burn because of what she had exposed at the dinner table.