The Cold Billionaire and The Broken Doll

ives pain, tragedy, a reason to become the way they were. Damon h

thing. No name worth remembering. No family legacy. Just a mother w

d two thi

prot

bet

e had stabbed

e dark, whispering cruel promises and threats. The blade slid in easy, the blood warm and sticky on his fingers. The man died c

o guilt. Ju

t, Damon

his hands when the cops came knocking. He said no

happened. They d

an everyone wanted gone and just like that, Damon became the boy who protec

r the first

ters when they wo

stered t

gs, broke bones for cash. But Damon demanded more. He made them wear suits, made them read The A

on ran Chicago's un

y, he wa

ont for laundering cartel money, buying corrupt judg

them. Sold them. Like

Leaked their sins when

lay dirty. He re

ingdom. Small ones.Fragile one

aker had bee

brought in to teach a lesson to someone who'd crossed him but Jess

it because deep down, sh

time he tried, some sick part of him wanted to see how far she'

orite pet. His

he wa

ke

prized possession by the one man

r Fer

since Mexico. Not since that night Javier d

the basta

ently

kingdom he had built on blood, fear, and silence. His shirt was off, revealing a map of old scars and fresh bruises each one a memory no one dared t

blood. It reminded h

ood tense and quiet. The pressure between t

f urgency clear in his voice. "We're tracking the

on the horizon, but his mind was elsewhere o

s voice low and cold lik

s asked, hoping for the an

d edge of his face. He dragged the smoke in deep, letting it scorch his lung

he word sharp and final.

d in surprise

freezing over with fury

hrink beneath the we

allowed h

with a look. "Br

rks for Javier now. You

d, slow and

flames. I don't want to go there quietly. I want to burn

right hand in the darkest corners of their empire, Bob had been loyal, brutal, and effective but the threads

nto Javier's world, t

It was about control. About dominance.About proving th

fall and Damon would make sure that if h

om, muscles ten

dator, but Javier's return was a

wanted to forget, a past where the r

without a trace and now, he had r

not to accept it now, his fingers tapped against the glass of

muttered to himself. "A fissure waiti

Archer did

o

d to be t

lding in penthouses and alleyways, in the minds of two men b

narrowed. The

nd word to every corner. Ever

lready moving to

beneath his boot, the

t only if you wield

er intended to

dy to reclaim his crown or