Her Cold Prince : Deadly Devotion To You

Chapter Two •• Welcome home, Prince

MDA Headquarters

Havannah

She parked her car in the lot and made her way in, exchanging morning pleasantries and waves when she had to.

MDA being a special force agency, its corridors were mostly filled with agents. There were usually only a handful of civilians here or there — people willing to report or testify to witnessing someone involved in illegal drugs.

But today was an exception. Almost every visitor's chair was filled. People were everywhere she looked.

Uh. Busy morning, then.

"Agent Hava."

She turned to meet Dave, a fellow teammate and colleague.

Dark hair fell to frame his forehead in that easy, boy-next-door look, with broad shoulders filling the jacket he had on, he looked every bit of the word handsome as he approached her.

"Agent Dave." She acknowledged with a nod and a small smile.

Even though they were roughly the same age — he was barely a year older — they’d always conversed formally. Partly because he was naturally introverted. Mostly because it had been convenient.

He'd been transferred to start anew here, and she’d been the newest then. Neither of them wanted to claim senior nor accept junior.

So here they were now. Stuck, likely until eternity. Neither casual nor formal.

"Director Jace said to report to his office straight on your arrival."

She worried her lower lip, head tilting as she ran through possible reasons for the summons. Coming up with none, she looked to Dave. "Do you have any idea why? What was the look on his face when he requested me?"

"No. I don't know either. But rest assured, he wasn't annoyed. Just... maybe a bit frustrated?"

"Right. A frustrated director I can manage. But never a rankled one." She exhaled. "Thanks. I'll get going."

"See you later in the office, then."

She mounted the steps and entered at his consent.

"Good morning, Director. Agent Havannah, sir."

Either he didn't hear, or he didn't care to acknowledge her.

"Check this out."

He tossed a file across his desk.

Hava moved closer and picked it up. Inside were photos. Victims maimed and murdered in cold blood. Backgrounds ranging from nightclub bathrooms, dark alleys, and abandoned buildings.

"Sir—"

He held up a hand for silence. "You are the lead of Team RF2 in this agency, Hava. Promotion wasn't handed to you so you could be laid back and do nothing. I'm sure you saw them downstairs. Filing complaints. Reporting sisters and missing relatives involved in mafia groups or drug cartels. What on earth was your team doing yesterday when these..." He gestured to the file, "...three homicides took place? Those are the drastic ends of innocent citizens caught in the brawl between mafia groups."

He paused, watching her face. Only when he saw the weight settle did he continue.

"I hereby assign your team to look into these. Take down those groups. From the lowest member to the very top leader. And I expect you to lead your team to deliver distinctive excellence on this investigation, Agent Havannah."

She stood straight and saluted. "Yes, sir."

She was halfway to the door when his voice stopped me. Considerate and softer this time.

"Your father, former agent Jones had been a close colleague of mine. I'm reminded of him when I see you, for you have the same vigor and determination as he had. And that is why I'm entrusting this to you. Find those responsible and put them behind bars. Remember — the safety of civilians will continue to be threatened if this goes on."

By the time Hava made it back to the office she shared with Dave and Kelly, her mind was set with a new-found determination. She would do this. And she would do it right.

---

Kyle Grayson Mansion

He'd requested for one, but three came to escort him from the airport.

Prince Kyle had almost scoffed as he saw that Vince had gone out of his way again and sent three tinted SUVs instead.

Vince. Always the golden boy. Charming. Smiling. Making Prince look like the black sheep.

Of the twins — identical to a level that annoyed him — Vince had always been the favorite. And Prince? He wouldn't deny the title. Hadn't been a saint since he was a kid.

Back then, he'd been rebellious. Frame Vince for everything. And since no one could tell them apart, he never got caught.

Vince would take the punishments. Go silent for days. Then he’d be the one suggesting they play again.

Prince never begged. Couldn't care less.

Been indifferent since he could remember. And when it came to his childhood, there was little worth remembering.

Their parents had been wealthy. A surgeon father who was almost never home. A dentist mother who thought nannies were enough. They spoiled them rotten with everything they ever wanted.

He'd been a weird one. As a child, he would hear the maids and caretakers whisper amongst themselves and point fingers when they thought he wasn't listening.

How hot tempered he'd been.

It had taken quite a while - and an unexpected visit to the ER that had Vince bedridden for weeks - for their parents to eventually notice. They'd been playing and Vince had called him names, hit him in what was supposed to only be playful. Siblings teasing each other was very normal.

But his reaction hadn't been. Was quite far from normal, actually. As all he'd seen next was red, and he didn't stop hitting Vince until he was well bloodied and the nanny literally had to tear him off Vince.

He'd only been thirteen then.

After that, their parents had taken him to every sort of psychologists, flown him overseas for sessions with renowned mind doctors.

But they hadn't worked. Had only worsened actually, and their parents never found out till their death which was shortly years after. Only him and Vince knew.

And now, twenty years later, only they still knew.

Prince tapped his finger against the window as the cars slid to a halt in the spacious garage.

The driver came out and around to open his door.

Sleek black shoes hit concrete first. Then he rose to his full dominating height.

He clicked his tongue, as he took in the mansion, which, since his departure years ago, hadn't changed much.

His eyes landed on Vince last, who stood before the double doors entrance.

"I never imagined I had a wife at home, anticipating my arrival this much." Prince smirked, a brow raised at Vince's expression.

Vince looked every bit of one who felt everything too much.

"It wouldn't be you if you admitted you missed me, would it? Welcome home, Prince. Your only brother missed you."

He smiled slowly, not letting the words damper his spirits.

After years of sharing almost everything together, birth date and day included, you get to know and understand each other on another level.

Prince ignored him and walked past him inside, heading straight to the wine shelf.

He opened a bottle of Vodka and poured a glass, "How's PK?"

Lord. He missed this taste.

Apparently, the only thing that made goody Vince tolerable was that he knew his preferences. Aside from the fact that he was willing to do anything for the sake of "Brother", even impersonate him to warm his seat at PK before he officially took over. One of the reasons he was finally home.

Vince gave him a look. "Betting you missed that more than me, right?"

Prince took a slow sip, deciding that question was also not worth his reply.

"Prince." Vince called in a low, grounding tone. Meant to be intimidating but had little to no effect on him.

Prince made to down the glass but Vince snatched it. He gave a "Give that back" look but Vince only held his eyes as he smashed it to the floor.

And the i***t knew better than to rile him up. He's got scars from their childhood to proof it.

Prince's jaw ticked. He cursed under his breath, and closed his eyes as he felt his temper begin to rise.

One. Two. Three. He took in steady breaths and counted. The way the doctors taught him.

When he felt like he could speak again without wanting to throttle him, he opened his eyes, voice cold. "What the hell was that for?"

"Testing the waters," Vince nodded impressively. "See if you’d make headlines as 'Violent CEO at PK.' Though you seem to be handling yourself well now."

Prince scoffed. "You wanna see how well? Try that again and see if you’re still standing."

Vince raised his hands in surrender and laughed. "I forfeit, Brother. I prefer my face spotless."

He was trying to humor him, yes, but Prince didn't feel that way.

Instead, he felt the urge to punch the smile off his face.

He clicked his tongue and poured himself another glass, rather than act on his urges.

"I'll resume tomorrow morning. From now on, I’m handling everything here."

He took a drink.

"I'm back for good."