Chapter 1 THE GHOST OF THE NIGHT AND THE ANGEL

KAL'S POV

It was supposed to be a routine sweep.

I got the call around 2:47 p.m. anonymous tip. A rival crew had tracked my twin to one of his downtown apartments, the one Dave keeps for his flings and shadow meetings.

I didn't even hesitate. Dave had a way of stirring devils he couldn't silence. And the last thing I needed was for my brother's recklessness to become my grave.

When I got there, all hell had already broken loose.

Blood.

Furniture shattered.

The scent of adrenaline and fear hanging thick in the air.

But then I saw her.

She was curled in a corner of the blood-smeared marble floor, trembling, face bruised, lip swollen, eyes wide with terror. She looked small. Powerless. Trapped in a war that had nothing to do with her. And yet... something about her made the chaos stop in my mind.

Her eyes. That tilt of her head. The shape of her mouth.

It struck me like a sniper's bullet.

I knew her.

She didn't recognize me. That much was clear. Her eyes didn't flicker. Her lips didn't part in revelation. I was just another man to her, maybe the man who saved her. But to me? She was the woman I'd never forgotten. The woman from five years ago.

One night. One mistake. One memory I buried beneath blood and smoke.

She had come to clean my penthouse on a rainy Tuesday. I remember the rain because it felt like a funeral in the sky. I had just returned from putting a man six feet under.

That night, I needed silence. Escape. Instead, she appeared. Quiet, graceful, like she didn't belong in my world of guns and silence. And when our eyes met, something shifted.

I didn't plan to touch her.

But I blew cold air across her forehead, like a curse and kissed her before I could stop myself.

And she let me.

The next morning, she was gone. And I never searched.

Until now.

I was older. Harder. My heart had gathered dust and iron. But seeing her again peeled something open. And I didn't like the feeling.

One of the attackers lunged toward her with a broken bottle. I didn't hesitate. My knife met his throat before his foot met the ground. His blood sprayed my boots like ink.

She gasped.

I turned to her. Our eyes locked. She didn't know who I was. Not really. And I didn't tell her. Not yet.

"You okay?" I asked, kneeling beside her.

She nodded shakily. "Who are you?"

The question stabbed deeper than expected.

I could've said Kal. I could've said, 'Your mistake from five years ago.' I could've said, 'The father of your son.' But I didn't.

Instead, I helped her to her feet. "You're not safe here."

"I didn't do anything," she whispered.

"You were in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Her lip trembled. "They called me his girl. They thought I was someone else."

No. They didn't. They knew exactly what they were doing. My enemies were sending me a message through her.

And I had received it loud and clear.

"You're coming with me," I said.

Her eyes widened. "I can't. I have a son. I, I have classes. I'm just a cleaner."

My jaw tensed. You have a son.

I already knew. My people had flagged her name a month ago when Dave's visitor logs popped in an internal audit. A cleaner named Lena-with a five-year-old son. The math wasn't hard.

But I needed proof. And fate just dropped her back into my world, soaked in blood and shaking in my arms.

"I'm taking you home," I said.

"I don't even know you," she breathed.

"No," I muttered. "But I know you."

I didn't tell her she belonged to me now. I didn't tell her I would burn this entire city before letting another hand bruise her. Not yet.

Instead, I placed my coat around her shoulders and guided her out into the night.

Because this time, I wasn't going to let her disappear.

Not again.