Chapter 3

• (Stephen POV — Explicit Scene)
• Stephen sat on the edge of his couch, a half-empty bottle of beer hanging loosely from his hand. The bitter taste lingered in his mouth, but it did little to douse the fire of frustration brewing in his chest.
• The dinner with Moiraine had gone completely off script.
• He stared at the velvet box on the table in front of him—the ring he had bought for her. His ticket into the very heart of the Sokolov empire. With a growl, he grabbed it and flung it at the door just as it creaked open.
• The box clattered loudly against the frame, narrowly missing the face of the woman who entered.
• “Someone looks pissed,” Dihanna said with a smirk, closing the door behind her.
• She wore a short leather skirt and a sleeveless jacket unzipped just enough to reveal the teasing swell of her cleavage. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and that usual deadly charm danced across her lips.
• He didn’t say a word, he simply stood and crossed the room in long, angry strides, crossing the room in two strides.
• With one swift pull, he yanked her closer by the collar, grabbed her by the waist, crashing his mouth against hers in a violent, punishing kiss. His lips were rough, bruising. His fingers tangled in her hair exposing her throat before biting into it, making her gasp. She responded eagerly, clawing at his shirt, tugging him harder against her as he shoved her back against the wall, one hand gripping her throat just tight enough to leave her breathless and him—satisfied.
• “You’re tense,” she whispered breathlessly.
• “Shut up.”
• He shoved her against the wall, one hand wrapping around her throat, just enough pressure to make her moan and arch her back. She loved it like that—dominated, used. He kissed her again, rough and desperate, his hands slipping beneath her skirt to rip her panties down with no ceremony.
• Her breath hitched.
• He didn’t wait. He freed himself and lifted her against the wall, her legs wrapping around his waist. Their bodies met in a heated rhythm, wet and raw, grinding against each other in fury and frustration. Every thrust was punishment—every moan a release of pent-up rage.
• “Oh fuck—Stephen—” she gasped, nails digging into his back.
• “Say my name again,” he growled into her neck, biting her shoulder as she whimpered beneath him.
• “Stephen—God, yes—”
• He drove deeper, harder, their skin slapping, breath mingling. She was soaked, clenching tight around him, her cries echoing in the vast, silent room. When her climax hit, her body trembled, and he followed shortly after with a growl, spilling into her as she clenched him close.
• When it was over, he carried her to the bedroom, both of them sweaty, panting, and sated.
• They lay in tangled sheets, her body still wrapped around his like a warm vice. She lit a cigarette and passed it to him. He took it silently, smoke curling around his jaw as he stared at the ceiling.
• “So, what happened tonight?” Dihanna murmured, brushing her lips against his neck. “You were supposed to propose. Get her soft. Send her away.”
• He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he exhaled slowly.
• “That was the plan,” he said flatly. “But she flipped the script on me. I’ve never seen her like that. Cold. Calculating. She told me I’m going to the South Pole branch… for a year.”
• Dihanna sat up, wide-eyed. “You?! What the hell—how did—”
• “She’s suspicious,” he muttered. “Ever since Rufus got caught, she’s been watching everyone. Including me. If I had pushed tonight, she would’ve smelled blood. She’s dangerous when she feels cornered.”
• He turned his head to look at Dihanna, his eyes dark and stormy.
• “But she’s not the only one who knows how to play a long game.”
• He crushed the cigarette in the ashtray.
• “She sent me away to control me… but I’ll make sure I return with something worth taking everything from her.”
• “…and after a year, I’ll be back,” Stephen whispered darkly, brushing his lips against Dihanna’s shoulder. “And I’ll finally get rid of her.”
• He kissed her again, and their low laughter filled the room like smoke—thick, dangerous, and impossible to ignore.
• For the rest of the week, leading up to the night of the gala, Moiraine made one thing certain: Stephen never got a single moment alone.
• No casual meetings, no surprise visits, no time to breathe.
• Pretending to still be in love, while attending public events, posing for photos, brushing her hand against his arm when cameras were near—but behind that calm façade, she was watching and disgusted with everything about him. Because she was starting to uncover so many things she had ignored.
• His betrayal. His secrets. He thought he was going to destroy her? But no, She was going to bury him.
• But she was going to make a better come back and set things right, starting from tonight at the gala. Tonight, her godfather—Ivan Luave—was going to introduce her to someone new. Someone different. Someone real. A man Ivan believed could truly protect her… and maybe, someone capable of loving her the way Stephen only pretended to.
• But Moiraine wasn’t just sitting pretty in expensive gowns. While the world thought she was softening into a socialite, she was assembling a new shadow network.
• Fresh blood. Unmarked faces. Unnamed blades.
• But so far, every recruit has failed.
• Some were useless, some were afraid. And others… were basically snitches and with everyone that failed, her irritation grew.
• She needed someone sharp. Someone cold. Someone loyal.
• Because if she was going to tear Stephen Black apart piece by piece, she needed a monster more terrifying than him.
• And she would find one.