Chapter One : Damian
The warehouse smelled like oil and gunpowder, the air heavy with smoke from too many cheap cigars. My crew was scattered around the long table—Cade at my right, Jax flipping through files at the end, the others half-listening while they nursed bottles of beer.
The Hart family’s name glared back at me from the sheet in front of me. Black ink on white paper, a neat little dossier. But I didn’t need the printouts to know who they were. Dealers. Pushers. The kind of scum who sold poison to kids because the money was easy. They were a stain on the streets, and I’d been waiting a long time for an opening.
“They’re sloppy,” Jax muttered, tapping ash into a tray. “Shipments are getting intercepted by the cops more and more. If we keep pressing, they’ll fold.”
“Not soon enough,” I said, my voice rough. “Every day they’re still moving product, more kids end up strung out. That’s not happening on my streets.”
Cade leaned back in his chair, tattooed arms folding over his chest. “So what’s the move?”
I slid the photo across the table. A woman’s face stared back at us—dark curls tumbling over her shoulders, brown eyes that looked older than twenty-four had any right to.
“Elena Hart,” I said.
A low whistle from someone down the table. “Pretty.”
“She’s their daughter,” I continued, ignoring the comment. “Been off the grid for a while. No record, no business ties, no contact with the family. But blood is blood. And sooner or later, they’ll use her. If we get there first…”
“We use her instead,” Cade finished, his tone sharp.
I didn’t answer right away. My eyes stayed on the photo. She didn’t look like the rest of them—no smugness, no flash. Just tired. Worn. Like she’d already seen too much.
But that didn’t matter. She was a Hart.
“She’s the way in,” I said finally.
Silence stretched. My men knew what I was saying without me spelling it out. I’d charm her. Get close. Pull whatever information I could. And when the time came, use her to crush her family’s empire.
Cade smirked, though there was no humor in it. “What’s the plan? Flowers and candlelight? Can’t picture you playing Prince Charming, brother.”
The corner of my mouth twitched. “I don’t need to charm her. Just need her to trust me.”
“Same thing,” Cade shot back.
Maybe he was right. But trust was easier than love. Cleaner. Or so I thought.
Jax pushed a folder toward me. Surveillance photos. Elena in a waitress uniform, carrying trays at some hole-in-the-wall diner. Walking home alone at night. Smoking on her fire escape, staring at the city like it might swallow her whole.
“She doesn’t look involved,” Jax said.
“She doesn’t need to be,” I replied. “She’s a Hart. That’s enough.”
Cade raised a brow. “You sure about this?”
I nodded once. “Tomorrow night, I make contact.”
The meeting broke soon after, the men scattering to their bikes. Cade lingered by the door, his voice low when the others were gone.
“This is a dangerous line you’re walking.”
“I’ve walked worse.”
“Yeah,” he muttered. “But never with your heart.”
I didn’t answer him. Just shoved Elena Hart’s photo into my jacket pocket and walked out into the night.
She wasn’t going to know it yet, but her life was about to change.
And so was mine.
