Chapter 2 Back to the Shadows

Evelyn's Pov

I threw clothes into my suitcase without looking at what I was grabbing. My hands were still shaking, and I could feel Daniel watching me from the doorway. The weight of his stare made my chest hurt.

"Eve, talk to me," he said, his voice tight and confused, maybe a little angry. "What the hell is going on?"

"I have to go home," I said. I zipped the suitcase closed and dragged it off the bed, and it hit the floor with a thud.

"Home?" Daniel stepped into the room, grabbed my arm, and turned me around to face him. "You told me you didn’t have a home to go back to. You told me your family was complicated and dangerous and you needed to stay away."

"My father is dead," I said, pulling my arm free and walking past him to grab my phone off the nightstand.

"I’m sorry, baby, I really am, but that doesn’t mean you have to leave right now, in the middle of the night," Daniel said, following me. "We can book a flight for tomorrow, and I’ll come with you and help you deal with whatever you need to deal with."

"No," I said too quickly and too sharply. He flinched. "You can’t come with me, Daniel, and I need to go alone."

"Why?" he demanded, running his hand through his hair and looking at me like I was a stranger. "What aren’t you telling me?"

Everything I wanted to say, but I couldn’t tell him about the Junkies or the Dynasty or the fact that my father ran one of the most dangerous mafia clans in the country and my brother was next in line. Now, people wanted him dead and me too, probably. Daniel’s perfect, normal life didn’t have room for any of that darkness.

"I just need you to trust me," I said, grabbing his face with both hands and kissing him hard and fast. "I’ll call you when I get there, okay? I’ll explain everything, I promise."

"Eve, please," he said. His eyes were wet and scared. "Don’t do this. Don’t leave me like this."

"I love you," I whispered and picked up my suitcase. I walked toward the door before I could change my mind.

"If you walk out that door right now, I don’t know if I’ll be here when you get back," Daniel called after me. His voice cracked on the last word.

I stopped in the doorway and closed my eyes. Tears slid down my cheeks again, but I didn’t turn around. If I looked at him, I would stay. If I stayed, Braydon would die alone. I couldn’t live with that.

"I’m sorry," I said and walked out.

The cab ride to the airport was a blur of streetlights and empty roads. The driver didn’t try to talk, which I was grateful for because I didn’t think I could speak without falling apart completely.

My phone buzzed with a text from Piper. I opened it, expecting a joke or meme, but it said, "whatever happens  be careful and some things can’t be undone."The words sat heavy in my stomach like stones.

I typed back, what do you mean? but she didn’t answer. I stared at the message for five whole minutes before giving up and shoving my phone in my pocket.

The airport was nearly empty at two in the morning. I bought a ticket on the next flight out and sat in the terminal with my suitcase at my feet, my hood pulled up, and my hands wrapped around a coffee cup that had gone cold an hour ago.

I thought about Daniel, the hurt in his eyes, the apartment we’d decorated together, the life we planned. I wondered if I’d just destroyed the only good thing I ever had, and the thought made me want to scream or cry or both.

But I got on the plane anyway.

I didn’t sleep during the flight. I just stared out the window at the darkness below and tried not to think about what I was flying toward or what I’d left behind. By the time we landed, the sun was coming up, painting the sky pink and orange, and I felt like I hadn’t slept in days.

I rented a car at the airport and drove toward the estate. With every mile, the buildings got smaller, the trees thicker, the roads rougher, and memories flooded back whether I wanted them to or not.

My father teaching me to shoot when I was seven and the kickback knocking me on my butt, him laughing and helping me up, telling me to try again.

Braydon holding my hand when I was scared during a rival clan meeting and whispering he wouldn’t let anyone hurt me.

The training grounds where I learned to fight and defend myself and survive in a world that wanted to eat me alive.

And Gyran always watching from the shadows with those dark eyes that saw too much and made me feel things I wasn’t supposed to feel about my brother’s best friend.

The estate came into view and my breath caught because it looked nothing like I remembered. Everything was falling apart.

The iron gates were rusted and hanging crooked on their hinges. The long driveway cracked and weeds pushed through the concrete. The gardens that used to be perfectly maintained were now wild and overgrown.

I parked in front of the main house, got out, and stood staring at the place I grew up. It felt like looking at a corpse.

The front door was unlocked. I pushed it open and stepped inside. The smell hit me first, dust and mold and something else I couldn’t name that made my stomach turn.

The grand entrance where my father used to greet guests and allies was empty and dark. The chandelier that used to sparkle was now covered in cobwebs and missing half its crystals.

I walked through the hallways. My footsteps echoed on the marble floors. I trailed my fingers along the walls and remembered running through here as a kid, playing hide and seek with Braydon, feeling safe and protected.

Nothing felt safe now.

I turned a corner and walked toward what used to be the training grounds. I pushed open the double doors and stepped outside, my heart sank.

The obstacle courses were gone. The shooting range was buried under weeds and wildflowers. The sparring ring where I learned to throw my first punch was just a circle of dead grass.

"It’s not much to look at anymore."

I spun around  and there he was. My heart stopped.

Gyran Tomb stood in the doorway. He was bigger than I remembered, taller, shoulders broader. His arms were covered in tattoos that hadn’t been there three years ago, and his dark skin seemed to suck in the light around him.

His hair was cut in a sharp taper fade. His jaw was strong and covered in stubble. His eyes were the same deep brown I remembered but harder now, colder. When he looked at me, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

"Gyran," I said. My voice was smaller than I wanted.

"Evelyn," he said, walking toward me slowly like he was approaching a wild animal. "You got taller."

"You got bigger," I shot back, crossing my arms over my chest, trying to ignore the way my pulse raced.

He stopped a few feet away and looked me up and down. His gaze was heavy and intense and made my skin feel too hot.

"You shouldn’t have come back," he said in a low, rough voice, like gravel. "You’re too soft for what’s coming, and this place will eat you alive."

"Try me," I said, lifting my chin and meeting his eyes, even though every instinct told me to look away.

Something flickered in his expression, maybe respect or amusement or something else  but it was gone before I could name it.

"Where’s Braydon?" I asked.

"Safe," Gyran said. "For now."

"What does that mean?" I demanded, stepping closer. "What happened? Who killed my father?"

"The Shredder’s men planted a bomb in his car. It went off on the highway. There wasn’t enough left to identify," Gyran said. His voice didn’t change, but his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "They’re trying to wipe out the junkies completely. Braydon is next on their list."

"Then why isn’t he here?" I asked, looking around the empty estate. "Why are you here alone?"

"Because someone had to wait for you," Gyran said. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He looked at the screen and his jaw tightened. His whole body went rigid. When he looked up again, his eyes were dark and dangerous.

"They know you’re back," he said, pulling a gun from his hip holster and checking the clip. "And they’re already here."