His Enemy, His Obsession

The first rule of the Black Reapers was simple. Never show fear. The second was even simpler. Never betray your own. Ryder Kane had lived by both rules for twelve years. Tonight, however, there was something beneath his calm expression that even years of violence couldn't bury. Hatred. He stood at the edge of the warehouse, staring through the half-open doors as rain hammered the concrete outside. Behind him, the low rumble of motorcycles filled the enormous building. Black leather. Chrome. Engines. Men who had learned long ago that loyalty wasn't something you promised. It was something you proved. Ryder slowly rolled a cigarette between his fingers without lighting it. "You're going to burn a hole through that thing." Jace's voice came from behind him. Ryder didn't turn. "Then I'll buy another." Jace Kane walked up beside his brother and leaned against one of the steel pillars. At twenty-eight, Jace had inherited their mother's lighter personality and their father's stubbornness. He was one of the few men alive who could stand beside Ryder without worrying about being shot for saying the wrong thing. He glanced at Ryder. "You've been staring at that phone for twenty minutes." "I haven't." "You have." Ryder finally looked at him. Jace raised both hands. "Fine. Ten minutes." Ryder slipped the phone into his pocket. "What do you want?" "To know why you called everyone here." "You'll find out." "That's what you always say before something goes wrong." Ryder's jaw tightened. Something had already gone wrong. Twelve years ago. And he had spent every day since then preparing to make someone pay. He walked toward the long table in the center of the warehouse. Maps were spread across it. Photographs. Bank records. Names. Addresses. Everything he had spent years collecting. At the center of the table was one photograph. A man in an expensive suit. Silver hair. Cold eyes. A smile that never reached them. Damon Vale. Ryder stared at the photograph. Every time he saw that face, he remembered fire. He remembered screaming. He remembered blood. He remembered his mother's hand slipping from his. And he remembered his father telling him to run. Ryder had been nineteen. Jace had been sixteen. Their father never made it out. Neither did their mother. The official story had called it a robbery gone wrong. Ryder had never believed it. He knew better. Someone had wanted the Kane family erased. And Ryder had spent twelve years hunting the man he believed responsible. Damon Vale. "He's moving money again," Mack said. Ryder looked up. Marcus Cole stood on the other side of the table, his thick arms folded across his chest. "How much?" "Enough to make me nervous." "Where?" "Three shell companies. Same account structure we've been tracking for six months." Mack pushed a folder across the table. Ryder opened it. Numbers. Transactions. Addresses. Names. He studied everything without speaking. Jace leaned closer. "This is Vale?" "Looks like it." Ryder's eyes hardened. "Where's the money going?" "Offshore." "Which country?" "Switzerland." Ryder shut the folder. "He's getting ready to disappear." Mack nodded. "That's what I think." For a moment, silence filled the warehouse. Then Ryder smiled. It wasn't a pleasant smile. It was the kind that made men who knew him step backward. "Then we don't give him the chance." Jace looked at him carefully. "What's the plan?" Ryder picked up the photograph of Damon Vale. "Everything he has." He tore the photograph in half. "His business." Another tear. "His reputation." Another. "His money." The final piece fell onto the table. "And when there's nothing left..." His eyes turned cold. "...I'll take away the one thing he loves." Jace frowned. "Damon doesn't love anything." Ryder looked at him. "He has a daughter." The room went quiet. Mack's expression changed. "You've been digging into his family?" "I've been digging into everything." Jace stared at Ryder. "What's her name?" Ryder reached for another folder. He opened it. A photograph slid across the table. A young woman stood beneath a flowering tree. She wasn't looking at the camera. She was laughing at something outside the frame. Her dark hair fell over one shoulder, and sunlight caught the side of her face. She looked... Happy. Too innocent for the world Ryder knew. Too untouched by the darkness surrounding her father's name. Jace picked up the photograph. "Serena Vale." Ryder said nothing. "Twenty-five," Mack read from the file. "University graduate. No criminal record. Works with a charity foundation. Lives alone." Jace looked from the photograph to his brother. "And what exactly are you planning to do with her?" Ryder's eyes remained fixed on Serena's picture. "Get close." Jace's expression hardened. "Ryder." "I need access to Vale." "And you think using his daughter is the way to do it?" "I know it is." "She isn't responsible for what her father did." Ryder's eyes snapped toward him. "You weren't there." Jace's voice softened. "No. But neither was she." That sentence hung between them. Ryder hated it. Because somewhere deep inside, he knew his brother was right. But hatred didn't care about fairness. Hatred didn't ask whether the person standing in front of you deserved the punishment. It only wanted someone to blame. And Ryder had spent twelve years giving it a name. Damon Vale. He picked up Serena's photograph again. There was something about her face that bothered him. She didn't look like Damon. Not even remotely. Her eyes were warm. Her smile was genuine. She looked like the kind of person who believed people were good. The kind of person Ryder had stopped believing in a long time ago. "She doesn't know anything," Jace said. Ryder looked at him. "You don't know that." "I know enough." "Then I'll find out." Jace stared at his brother. "You really intend to use her?" Ryder placed the photograph back on the table. "She's my way into Vale's life." "And if she gets hurt?" Ryder's expression became unreadable. "Then she should have been more careful about who her father was." Jace shook his head. "You don't believe that." Ryder didn't answer. Because he wasn't sure anymore. Three days later. The city looked different from the seat of Ryder's motorcycle. Buildings blurred past him as he rode through the night. He had spent years becoming comfortable with darkness. It was easier there. No expectations. No questions. No memories. Just the growl of his engine and the cold wind against his face. He pulled into the parking lot of a luxury hotel and killed the engine. Tonight wasn't about revenge. Not yet. Tonight was reconnaissance. He needed to see Serena. To understand her. To learn what made her smile. What made her afraid. Who she trusted. Who she loved. And most importantly... How to get close enough to break through her defenses. Ryder entered the hotel through the side entrance. Mack had already arranged everything. A charity gala was being held on the top floor. Damon Vale would be there. So would his daughter. Ryder adjusted the cuffs of his black shirt and walked toward the elevator. His reflection stared back at him from the polished metal doors. Cold eyes. Hard jaw. No emotion. Exactly the way he wanted. The elevator doors opened. He stepped inside. As the numbers climbed, Ryder reminded himself of the plan. Find Serena. Earn her trust. Get close. Use her to reach Damon. Destroy everything. Simple. At least, that's what he told himself. The elevator doors opened onto the ballroom. Music drifted through the air. Crystal chandeliers illuminated hundreds of elegantly dressed guests. Ryder stepped out. Nobody recognized him. That was exactly how he wanted it. He scanned the room. Damon wasn't difficult to find. The man stood near the center of the ballroom surrounded by businessmen and politicians. Ryder's fingers curled. Twelve years. Twelve years of waiting. Damon looked exactly the same. Older. But still standing. Still breathing. Still living the life Ryder believed should have belonged to his parents. Then Ryder saw her. Everything around him seemed to slow. Serena. She stood near the balcony doors wearing a deep red dress that fell elegantly around her figure. Her hair was loose tonight. Dark waves framed her face. She was talking to an elderly woman, smiling politely. Ryder stared. He had studied her photographs. None of them had prepared him for this. There was something different about seeing her in person. Something dangerous. Not because she looked like her father. Because she didn't. She looked soft. Warm. Alive. And Ryder suddenly understood why Damon had kept her away from the darker parts of his world. He had protected her. The realization irritated Ryder. He shouldn't have noticed. He shouldn't have cared. He certainly shouldn't have wondered what her smile would look like if it were directed at him. "That's her." Mack's voice came quietly through the earpiece. Ryder didn't answer. "Ryder?" "I see her." "What's the move?" Ryder watched Serena laugh at something the elderly woman said. His chest tightened unexpectedly. He didn't like the feeling. "Nothing yet." Mack was silent for a moment. Then— "Don't forget why you're there." Ryder's eyes narrowed. "I haven't." He stepped farther into the ballroom. Serena turned. Their eyes met. For one suspended second, neither moved. Her smile disappeared. Curiosity replaced it. Ryder felt something inside him shift. He had expected fear. Suspicion. Maybe disgust. Instead, Serena simply looked at him. As though she were trying to understand him. Then she smiled. A small, uncertain smile. And Ryder knew immediately that he had a problem. Because for the first time in twelve years... Revenge wasn't the only thing he could think about. He walked toward her. Every step took him closer to the daughter of the man he hated. Closer to the woman who was supposed to be nothing more than a weapon. And as Serena watched him approach, Ryder made himself one promise. He would never forget who she was. She was Damon Vale's daughter. His enemy. His target. His way into the man's world. What Ryder didn't know was that Serena was carrying a secret of her own. A secret that would eventually force him to question everything he believed about the night his family died. But for now... He only knew one thing. He had found her. And he intended to make her trust him. No matter what it cost him.