He chose to be an heir. She chose to survive without him. Three years ago, Clifford left Eve in a warehouse with blood on his hands. Now she’s in Lisbon. Broken. Alone. Haunted by his voice in the rain. He’s watching. From the shadows. From the river. From across a warm loaf of bread. “Everyone lies,” she says. “Especially me,” he thinks. Because to keep her alive, he has to let her hate him. He’s a mafia heir. She’s his secret. And secrets get people killed.

---### *CHAPTER 1: RUST, BLOOD, AND DYING HOPE*Rust. Blood. The smell of hope dying. That’s the Basement.I stood by the rail tracks, counting chips in my palm. Ten chips. Ten lives. Not enough to feed the kids tonight.“Madam Ash, there’s no more supply from upstairs,” Wraith said. His voice was barely a whisper, like he was used to not being heard. Twelve years old, but his shadow was longer than his body. He looked twenty. “Boss Kardo cut it off.”I crushed the chips in my fist. Crumbs fell onto the floor, stained with old blood.“Fine. I’ll get it from the surface myself.”“You can’t! There’s curfew upstairs! If you get caught—”“If the kids starve, that’s worse.”Before he could argue, noise echoed through the tunnel. Heavy footsteps. Someone who wasn’t used to mud.A newcomer. I pulled my knife out. Down here, a new face meant new trouble. Or a new corpse.The man stepped out of the dark.Tall. Skin too pale = definitely from upstairs. Leather jacket, blood at the corner of his lips. But his eyes...Cold. No fear. Like he was born in hell.“Name?” I asked. I pressed the knife to his throat.My scar throbbed. The scar Mama gave me before they killed her. _It itches when someone’s lying_, she used to whisper.“Raze,” he answered. His voice was ice against my skin. “Runaway. Starving.”Laughter burst behind me.We were all runaways here. All starving. All with blood on our hands.But when the neon light hit his face… my blood went cold.Those eyes. That jaw. The way he smiled even with blood on his lips.He looked like Senator Valdez. The man my gang executed three years ago. The man who gave me this scar.“His son,” Wraith whispered behind me. So quiet I almost missed it. “The senator’s son.”I smiled. But there was nothing kind in it. Just the smile of someone about to kill.“Welcome to hell, pretty boy,” I said. Slowly, I dragged my knife down his neck. I felt his pulse jump under the blade. Fast. But his eyes? Dead.“In the Basement… there are no senators. No laws. Here, I’m the law.”He looked at my scar. I looked at his eyes.We both had someone we wanted dead.The problem was… My heart was beating faster than my plan._And that was the most dangerous thing in the Basement._--

---### *CHAPTER 1: RUST, BLOOD, AND DYING HOPE*Rust. Blood. The smell of hope dying. That’s the Basement.I stood by the rail tracks, counting chips in my palm. Ten chips. Ten lives. Not enough to feed the kids tonight.“Madam Ash, there’s no more supply from upstairs,” Wraith said. His voice was barely a whisper, like he was used to not being heard. Twelve years old, but his shadow was longer than his body. He looked twenty. “Boss Kardo cut it off.”I crushed the chips in my fist. Crumbs fell onto the floor, stained with old blood.“Fine. I’ll get it from the surface myself.”“You can’t! There’s curfew upstairs! If you get caught—”“If the kids starve, that’s worse.”Before he could argue, noise echoed through the tunnel. Heavy footsteps. Someone who wasn’t used to mud.A newcomer. I pulled my knife out. Down here, a new face meant new trouble. Or a new corpse.The man stepped out of the dark.Tall. Skin too pale = definitely from upstairs. Leather jacket, blood at the corner of his lips. But his eyes...Cold. No fear. Like he was born in hell.“Name?” I asked. I pressed the knife to his throat.My scar throbbed. The scar Mama gave me before they killed her. _It itches when someone’s lying_, she used to whisper.“Raze,” he answered. His voice was ice against my skin. “Runaway. Starving.”Laughter burst behind me.We were all runaways here. All starving. All with blood on our hands.But when the neon light hit his face… my blood went cold.Those eyes. That jaw. The way he smiled even with blood on his lips.He looked like Senator Valdez. The man my gang executed three years ago. The man who gave me this scar.“His son,” Wraith whispered behind me. So quiet I almost missed it. “The senator’s son.”I smiled. But there was nothing kind in it. Just the smile of someone about to kill.“Welcome to hell, pretty boy,” I said. Slowly, I dragged my knife down his neck. I felt his pulse jump under the blade. Fast. But his eyes? Dead.“In the Basement… there are no senators. No laws. Here, I’m the law.”He looked at my scar. I looked at his eyes.We both had someone we wanted dead.The problem was… My heart was beating faster than my plan._And that was the most dangerous thing in the Basement._--