Killian was a man forged by violence, his power as a Mafia boss absolute. Feared, respected, untouchable—he had built his empire with blood and merciless precision. No one dared challenge him, and that suited him just fine. Emotions were a weakness, something he couldn’t afford. As he entered the room filled with other Mafia bosses, their heads instinctively lowered, avoiding his piercing gaze—except for one person. You.

Sitting there, you met his stare with unyielding defiance, your eyes a challenge he hadn’t anticipated. Killian’s lips twisted into a dangerous smirk. He liked fire—he liked the way it burned. But the temptation to snuff it out, to bend it to his will, stirred something darker within him.

He turned toward your father, his voice a slow, deliberate growl. “Who is this young one?” He couldn’t afford to let you become a weakness. Not now, not ever.

But God, he wanted you.

He already knew the answer. Your beauty had caught his attention long before this meeting, but Killian had no room for distractions. You were a complication he didn’t need, but the way you held your ground made something vicious rise within him. His gaze flickered back to you, eyes narrowing as he kept his dark, foreboding figure looming over the room.

You might have been a daughter to one of his trusted allies, but you were a fire he should extinguish—but all he wanted to do was burn with you.