Page 23 of Ivory Crown

“Hey, big bro. Just a little excitement to spice up the night, huh?” His attempt at humor did little to mask the tension in his voice—a tension that mirrored my own.

“Spill it.”

“Let’s just say someone’s interested in our family tree. Had a couple of guys tailing me, too close for comfort. But don’t worry, they won’t get another chance.”

“Dammit, Marco. This is serious.” My voice came out harsher than I intended, but fear for my brother’s safety edged every word. “You need to be more careful.”

“Relax, Dante. I shook them off easy.” But the bravado fell flat, and we both knew it.

“Stay sharp, and stay alive,” I warned him. “I’m not letting anyone take a shot at us—not while I breathe.”

“Understood, big man,” he said.

“Same people who were tailing mom?”

He considered that for a second. “I mean, that’s insane,” he said. “No one is stupid enough to both tail her and tail me.”

I didn’t know if he was right.

“Marco, I need you to come up to the penthouse,” I said, gripping the phone tighter as I glanced at the watch on my wrist. It was almost midnight; the city outside my window a maze of shadows and secrets.

“At this hour?” There was a note of surprise in his voice, but he knew better than to question my urgency.

“Make it quick,” I replied curtly, already moving through the dimly lit room towards my desk. The night was far from over.

“Alright, I’m on my way.” The line went dead, and the silence that followed was heavy with unspoken fears.

I hung up the phone, and for a moment allowed myself the luxury of closing my eyes. The chill in the air seemed to seep into my bones as I moved across the room. Every shadow felt alive, every creak of the penthouse an omen. In this life, I often found myself teetering on the edge of trust and paranoia—tonight, trust was off the table.

Restlessness took over, and I started pacing, each step thudding against the plush carpet in a steady rhythm. No matter how far I walked, it wasn’t enough to escape the gnawing anxiety chewing at my insides. Marco’s situation was the spark, but Jade...Jade was the fuse.

I stopped by the window, the city sprawling beneath me—a kingdom of chaos I ruled with an iron fist. But no matter how tight my grip, I couldn’t protect her from everything. Not in this world. Not when every decision I made could end with a bullet.

She was in my bed, sleeping. Oblivious to the fact that someone was now trying to kill my family. And that meant her, too, whether she liked it or not.

“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath. The truth was as cold and hard as the gun I kept in my desk drawer. To love her was to endanger her; there was no escaping that simple, brutal fact. That’s why she couldn’t leave—why I couldn’t let her walk away.

This was really bad.

“Fuck,” I swore, running a hand through my hair. There was no room for error, not with so much at stake. Especially not with Jade’s life—and that of our unborn child—tied to mine.

I grabbed my phone, my thumb a blur as I scrolled through the contacts list. There was one name that stood out, one man I knew could handle this escalating threat with the necessary discretion and ruthlessness.

“Luca,” I said into the phone without any pleasantries, “get here, now. We’ve got a situation.”

“Understood, boss,” came Luca’s immediate reply, his voice steady and calm. “I’ll be there in ten.”

“Make sure you’re not followed,” I added, knowing full well the streets were likely teeming with eyes hungry for a glimpse of weakness.

“Always.” The line went dead.

My gaze swept across the lavish room, lingering on the shadows that seemed to press closer with each passing moment. Jade was somewhere beyond these walls, her presence a beacon that both guided and tormented me. I couldn’t bear the thought of her caught in the crossfire of my world—a world she should have never been a part of.

I was pacing the length of my office, the click of my shoes on the hardwood a rhythmic beat that did nothing to ease the tension coiling in my gut. The city lights outside the window had dimmed to a dull glow, the night cloaking everything in its deceptive serenity.

The elevator dinged softly, and I turned sharply toward the sound. The door slid open, and Marco stepped out with that familiar edge to his gait—a mirror to my own restlessness.

“Marco,” I greeted, my voice betraying none of the unease that gnawed at me. “Good, you’re here.”

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