Chapter1: troubled
Liams POV
Chicago, Present Day
I had just gotten into the bosses office, my father. It was a Monday so I know it was going be hectic. The usual gang shenanigans, we had a mess to clean up and I knew what he wanted to speak to me about it.
Word got around quick and Rico one of our distributors was starting to f**k around with our shipment. Well, nothing we can’t clean up. An easy sweep.
My father’s voice was the kind of sound that didn’t just fill a room. it owned it.
“We don’t negotiate with rats,” he growled, tossing a black folder onto the long marble table. “You find Rico. You get the cash. If he refuses, you bleed him out.”
I didn’t flinch. I’d grown up on threats like that.
Hell, they were bedtime stories in my house.
“I can’t,” I said, leaning back in the leather chair, chewing gum like I didn’t just throw a damn bomb on the table. “I’ve got somewhere to be…”
Liza’s laugh was sharp, laced with venom. She quickly interrupted. Who knew she was lurking in the corners. Her desperation to take my place was starting to sound like a broken record.
Liza was My elder sister, well just by a year. Although she likes to act like its longer, I couldn’t be bothered. I knew my place and whether it were one year or ten years, she would never have my place and she knew that.
Even though she always tried too hard, trained too hard to impress dad and show him she could handle the task. Dad never let her do the actual job. Though occasionally he lets her handle a few minor tasks just to get her off his back.
His main reason for it wasn’t necessarily misogyny as you maybe thinking but fear, although he never said it and would rather you assume he were sexist than admit the truth, he was scared and I knew it. It was cause of mom…
. “Let me handle it. I’ll have Rico crying in under an hour.” She said .
Dad didn’t even look at her. Just scoffed like she was some kind of joke.
“It’s a man’s job,” he said flatly. “Liam’s job.”
Liza’s eyes sliced toward me. If looks could kill, I’d be six feet under and wrapped in dirt.. But I wasn’t in the mood for family drama this morning.
I stood up, grabbed the folder, and slid it under my jacket. “Fine. I’ll handle it after class with the guys, I’ll put word out.”
Dad grunted. “You better. I’m not grooming you for nothing.”
“Aw, Daddy,” I smirked. “That almost sounded like love.” I knew that would annoy him. Dad cared, a lot but part of the job description was to act like you didn’t, I knew that better than anyone cause life thought me that the hard way and so did Dad.
Chris was waiting outside, he was my bestfriend and we ride to school together always.
He leaned against my matte black Chevrolet Camaro , tossing a coin between his fingers like he had zero cares in the world. We were birds of the same feather, almost too similar to differentiate, he was my right hand man and a core member of the gang, my dad loved him like a son.
He looked up and smirked when he saw me.
“Let me guess, the usual family sermon?” he asked.
“More like a hit order and a healthy dose of hearthbreak for our dear Liza ,” I said mockingly, hopping into the driver’s seat.
Chris laughed, brushing his black hair from his eyes. “Classic Hunt family morning.”
We hit LePaul University just before nine. The school looked all polished glass and Ivy League wannabe. But under the surface, it was crawling with shadows. My shadows.
I met up with the boys at the parking lot. Terrance, Greg, and Nic. All three already buzzing with adrenaline.
“Yo! Liam! You got the deets?” Trey asked.
I pulled out the folder and flipped it open. “Rico’s been skimming off the South Side shipments. The boss wants him dealt with… quickly and quietly but permanently if he tries to act too smart. Got it?.”
Nic grinned. “Subtle blood. Got it.”
“After class,” I reminded them. “No screw-ups. No witnesses.”
They nodded and split. I was halfway across the quad when I saw her.
Anna Rivera
She was the kind of girl who walked into a room and made it hers without saying a word.
She had jet black hair, long and silky , like a river of ink cascading down her back. The sharp middle part framed her face with a kind of deliberate precision,controlled chaos, just like her. Her skin was a warm, flawless bronze, kissed by sun and sin, smooth as silk and glowy.
She was slender, but not fragile, her body was lean and sculpted like someone who knew exactly what angles worked in her favor: the sway of her hips, the arch of her brow, the way her fingers brushed along your jaw like a promise and a threat all at once.
Her eyes? Dark. Deep. Flirty by default, lethal by choice.
And her mouth? Full lips painted in deep crimson most days, always curled in a knowing smirk, the perfect bad girl.
Anna exuded confidence, not the loud kind, but the dangerous kind…the kind that dared you to come closer while warning you you’d never recover once you did. She knew she was beautiful, and she wielded it like a weapon.
She was the girl people whispered about. The one with a reputation. The one who played with fire, lit her own matches, and never got burned.
She flirted like it was a sport and handled heartbreak like a hit job: quick, clean, and never twice from the same man.
She never pretended to be more than she was.
Anna wasn’t looking for love. She was looking for a challenge.
And here she was in front of me again.
All curves and confidence, shiny long jet black hair which I loved, slender figure, bronze skin, perfect tan, 5ft 7”, tasted like a deadly sin, she was my occasional hazard .
She was strutting toward me in a leather jacket, skirt riding just high enough to mess with my head. She was Liza’s best friend. Now that’s the tricky part.
“Liam Hunt,” she purred, launching herself at me like I was made of gold and sin.
Our lips met…fierce, fast, familiar. She always kissed like it was her last, so much tension , so much passion and the perfect amount of aggression. I liked that.
My hands slid to her waist, gripping tight, her thigh sliding between mine. Heat roared through me like gasoline on an open flame.
“This place is crawling,” I muttered.
“Then follow me,” she whispered, dragging me by the hand through a side hall and into the girl’s bathroom like she owned the damn building.
We crashed into a stall, her back slammed into the cold tile, my mouth trailing down her neck. Her hands yanked my shirt up, nails dragging across my stomach as I grabbed her thigh and hitched it up.
“God, you’re so rough,” she moaned.
“Don’t pretend you don’t love it,” I growled, pressing into her, harder.
Our kisses turned brutal. Desperate. My fingers tangled in her hair, her lips tracing fire across my jaw. Her leg hooked around my waist, pulling me tighter, and I didn’t stop her. Not until…
The door slammed open.
“What the—oh my God,” a voice gasped.
I froze. Anna tried to pull her skirt down with what was left of her dignity, but I didn’t think she gave the tiniest bit of a f**k.
Becca
Low. Snarky. A bite under silk.
She stood in the doorway, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised and a crooked pout curving on her lips.
“Oh my God, horny much?” she said dryly. “Get a room. This isn’t high school.” She rolled her eyes and proceed to washing her hands. She wasn’t shocked just very much irritated.
I blinked, still half-caught between lust and Shame or something a bit familiar, I was startled. Anna huffed and straightened her clothes.
Becca dried her and turned on her heel, her heels clicking as she strutted out.
But not before glancing over her shoulder—with eyes full of fire and ice.
And just like that…
My morning got a whole lot more complicated.
