–Damon–
I stayed in my office, commanding my n. Kai had also arranged a few things. Today was the day—the wedding Tyrona wanted.
The family? They were already dressed in black, as if attending a funeral. Grandpa Reagan and Grandma Olivia stayed behind.
I headed downstairs in casual clothes. My brother was wearing a white suit, probably to mock Tyrona. We looked at each other for a long mont before both of us laughed.
"I’m going to steal your bride," he said.
"Yeah, I don’t mind."
We kept laughing. But after this, my mother deserved to see her best friend.
We finally headed toward the limousine Tyrona had sent—her n inside. I glanced at my parents, who clearly didn’t want to be there. My grandparents wanted to stay, but Tyrona was practically taking them hostage.
We got into the limousine. As I settled in, I discreetly slid the tracker into the cup holder. I told Dad to do the sa in the other car. In this limo, it was just my mom, David, and . I knew Mom was deeply worried. They had even taken our devices before separating us.
The drive was long—painfully so. I prayed that whatever Tyrona had planned for my sister and Lore, she wouldn’t kill them.
A white female biker suddenly sped past us, long silver hair flowing behind her. Her large bike was white and silver, matching her biker pants and coat. My eyes widened.
Is that my wife?
I couldn’t be mistaken.
I wondered why she would step out into the open without any disguise—nothing but a helt protecting her identity.
"Are you alright?" David asked. "Wedding jitters?"
"If my wife is alive," I said quietly, "I’ll hold another wedding—one where you’re my best man."
David laughed.
"Ironic, right?" He sighed. "I’m your best man at your second wedding—to your first fiancée. And I’m wearing white to steal the show."
"You slept with her first," I laughed, and he laughed along with .
I glanced at Mom, whose lips curled upward. I knew she was trying to be strong for her only daughter. Alyssa was our baby sister—still a baby in our parents’ eyes, no matter how old she got.
"Now I’m worried about our little sister," he said dramatically, bursting into fake sobs. "Aly! I miss you!"
He cried with exaggerated tears, and I pulled him into a hug, sighing as I did. Sotis I wondered if all my siblings were this dramatic. I glanced at Mom—she was crying too.
"Please," I said softly, "don’t cry."
I sighed, forcing my expression to stay neutral as I buried the rescue operation deep inside my chest—locked away, silent, where no one could sense it.
–Alyssa–
We were dragged out of the bedroom just before noon.
My heart slamd against my ribs. Lore could barely stand—his body burning, heavy, sagging as they yanked him forward. He stumbled, feet scraping the floor, and I grabbed him before he could fall.
We were hauled downstairs barefoot, guns already raised, tal glinting inches from us.
"Where are you taking us now?!" I shouted.
"Sowhere far," one of them muttered. "Don’t you rember? It’s your brother’s wedding."
The muzzle of a gun pressed hard against my back.
"Move."
I obeyed.
When the door was yanked open, more ard n in masks were waiting outside. I clung to Lore instinctively—and then he shoved down.
To my shock, he already had a gun in his hand.
"Close your damn eyes!"
But I couldn’t.
He moved with terrifying precision—twisting, pivoting, firing—taking down three ard n surrounding us. A loud bang echoed as the door slamd shut. He pulled up and shoved behind the sofa.
I stared at the bodies on the floor.
Blood pooled around their heads.
Lore pulled my face against his chest as gunfire erupted outside. Then—silence.
The door opened calmly... and closed again.
I turned my head at the asured, elegant click of heels against the floor.
Black leather boots stopped before —tall and flawless, the heels carved with a dagger design, polished and precise, not ant for decoration but for dominance. Each step carried quiet authority, as if the ground itself yielded.
Peciotti...
I lifted my gaze. She was draped in an all-white leather ensemble, pristine and regal, tailored like ceremonial armor. Not loud. Not excessive. Powerful in its restraint.
She removed her helt. Long silver-blonde hair cascaded freely, framing her face like a crown. Then her eyes t mine—deep athyst, calm and absolute.
I broke down in tears, unable to tell whether I was dreaming or finally allowed to feel relieved.
I crawled, then stood, then ran straight into her arms. She hugged tightly and kissed my head.
"Liva..."
"I’m here," she whispered.
"Oh, finally," Lore chuckled weakly from behind us. "Can I collapse now?"
"No. Get up," Livana snapped.
The door opened again. More n in white suits entered and cleaned the scene like nothing had happened—efficient, silent.
I sat on the sofa as soone handed a bottle of water. My hands shook. I watched as they set up equipnt in front of Lore—wires, devices, connections to the house system. Lore typed rapidly, fingers flying over the keyboard, while soone checked the injury on his head.
I clung to Livana. I didn’t want to let her go. I was afraid she’d disappear again.
"Okay, it’s done!" Lore announced. "Can I collapse now?"
"Stop saying that, asshole!" I snapped.
Livana chuckled.
"Since everything’s ready," she said, as one of the phones started ringing.
Lore cleared his throat. Adjustnts were made. Then he answered.
"What’s the situation?" A woman’s voice ca through—altered, chanical.
"We’re already en route," Lore replied. "Packages are secured."
My eyes widened.
"Good." The call ended.
Lore turned to us.
"Alright," Livana said brightly, standing and wiping my tears. "Let’s go to the wedding. You and Lore will be there, okay?"
"What about you?" I asked.
"No. I can’t be there. My existence is a secret. Only these people know."
I nodded.
"Does Damon—"
She nodded again.
"And I think," she added with a giggle, "your outfit today is exactly what you should wear."
"Okay. For the final act, you better give days off."
"Sure." Livana braided her hair and put her helt back on. "I have to leave. Make sure they arrive safely at the venue."
The n straightened, fists pressed to their chests, bowing silently to their queen.
"Liva," I called, hugging her one last ti.
"I’ll see you soon."
She left.
Luckily, the venue wasn’t far. We boarded the helicopter. Lore put on earplugs and leaned his head against my shoulder, already drifting off.
The flight took fifteen minutes.
Below us, the wedding was already underway. Vows were about to be spoken.
The helicopter landed on the wide lawn. Lore and I stepped out and walked toward the venue.
Tyrona stared at —gaping.
I slapped her so hard she nearly fell.
"You bitch! You won’t have my brother!"
David laughed. I turned and saw him in a pristine white suit, sunlight cutting sharp lines across his shoulders. Beside him stood Damon in royal blue—calm, unreadable, lethal as ever.
For a split second, confusion flickered through .
Which one is she even marrying?
Tyrona grabbed my hair. We fought—hard. I knew neither of my brothers would help this ti.
"You will never replace Livana!" I scread, smashing her with her expensive bouquet.
"Livana’s dead, you brat!" she yelled, hitting back.
We rolled across the ground. No one intervened—until her sister tried to pull my hair. Lore grabbed her instantly.
Damon finally dragged away.
"Too late, you little bitch," Tyrona sneered, holding up signed papers. "He already agreed."
A shot rang out.
The papers burned midair.
Tyrona scread as they fell from her hands.
I looked up.
Another helicopter hovered above which we both didn’t realize.
The Dela Vega family closed in, their bodyguards moving in perfect sync. Guns slid out from beneath tailored jackets—quiet, practiced, inevitable.
We were surrounded.
A red laser dot appeared on Tyrona’s forehead.
Here’s a tightened, more vivid version—calr on Damon’s side, visceral on Alyssa’s, with a slow, dreadful reveal:
"Do you really think our Empire has fallen?" Damon said calmly as he stepped forward. David’s arms closed around , solid, grounding.
"Look around," Damon continued, his voice almost bored. "You’re surrounded—even if they’re keeping their distance."
I followed his gaze too late. Rooftops. Tree lines. Shadows that didn’t move unless they wanted to. Snipers.
"And I have a gift."
The thrum of blades thundered overhead. Another chopper hovered, just long enough. Sothing dropped.
It hit the ground with a wet, final sound.
Cloth unraveled as it rolled—darkened, heavy, soaked through with blood. The coppery sll reached before the shape fully settled. My stomach twisted, my breath locking in my chest.
I knew.
I didn’t need to look closer. I didn’t need nas.
I knew exactly who they were.
Soone from Tyrona’s family scread.
I saw my family dressed in black, like they were attending a funeral.
Well.
It just wasn’t ours.
Mom and Dad rushed toward , hugging tightly. Mom cried uncontrollably. My head spun from adrenaline.
I pointed at Lore, who staggered backward, exhausted.
"Lore!"
Damon grabbed him and signaled his n.
We left imdiately.
Damon threw his suit jacket at Tyrona’s feet. Her eyes were bloodshot, jaw clenched—but I didn’t care anymore.
We boarded the helicopter and flew straight to the hospital.
Doctors rushed Lore away for tests. Another checked —I was shaking, overwheld. My parents wanted to take ho, but I refused. I stayed until the doctor finally brought Lore into a private room.
"Minor concussion," he said. "He just needs rest. Otherwise, he’s healthy."
Relief flooded .
I went ho with Mom and Dad. Damon stayed behind.
Back in my bedroom, Mom bathed , dried my hair, and stayed with . I told her everything—except Livana.
That’s when I realized it.
Lore teaches self-defense.
Livana is planning everything.
The apartnt near school.
Lore being there—not to study—but to protect .
Even if she was far.
Even if we thought she was dead.
I ate a little, snuggled with my grandparents, then slept with my mom. I had nightmares. She woke over and over until Dad finally joined us.
I felt small again. Seven years old.
I dread of Lore killing people—his eyes unblinking.
I should stay away from him.
But I like him.
He saved .
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