**Ryan’s POV**

The private room at the high-end bar reeks of leather, cigar smoke, and the kind of wealth that buys power. It’s nearly eleven p.m., and the air hums with the weight of what’s to come. I stride in, my Armani suit sharp enough to cut glass, and spot Liam and Gabriel already seated at the polished mahogany table. Liam, the eldest, carries the grizzled authority of a man who’s seen too much. Gabriel, my age, has eyes that miss nothing. Luca, five years younger, and Viktor, the baby at twenty-five, haven’t arrived yet. Not that age means a damn thing when you’re part of the Priesthood. Power doesn’t care about years lived—it cares about blood spilled and oaths kept.

“Gentlemen,” I say, my voice low as I take my seat. Curt nods and answers me. We’re not friends, not by a long shot, but we’re bound by something thicker than friendship: a blood oath that makes us the most dangerous men on Earth. Fuck with one of us, and you face the Priesthood. It’s what makes us untouchable. The only way out is a bullet or a blade.

A server slips in, silent as a ghost, to take my drink order. I’m about to speak when Luca and Viktor stride through the door, their presence like a storm rolling in—Luca carrying the weight of the Italian mafia, Viktor radiating the cold menace of the bratva. Every step they take screams dominance. The server takes their orders, and no one breathes a word until the door clicks shut behind him. The tension in the room is a living thing, coiling around us like a snake.

Luca takes a slow sip of his bourbon, his dark eyes locking onto each of us before settling on me. “Heard you’re having trouble with the Silver Glide, Ryan.”

My jaw tightens. “They’re sniffing around my territory.” My gaze shifts to Liam, who’s nursing his whiskey like it’s a grudge. “Do you know anything about it?”

Liam’s stare doesn’t waver, cold and unyielding. “I drove them out of my city.”

And now they’re my fucking problem. Perfect. “What can you tell me about them?” I press.

“Antonio Manno’s the head,” Liam says, his voice dripping with contempt for the name. “Scum.”

I already knew that. My patience thins, but I keep it locked down.

Luca leans back, swirling his drink. “He’s not Cosa Nostra. That’s something.”

Eight years. That’s how long it took Liam to purge the Silver Glide from Chicago. Eight fucking years. I don’t have that kind of time. Not with everything else on my plate. Not with *her*.

Isabella.

Her name hits me like a shot of adrenaline, unbidden and unwanted. My feisty little step sister—though the word *sister* makes my blood boil. She’s not my sister, no matter what anyone says. The thought of anyone calling her that makes me want to bury them six feet under. I don’t know why it sets my teeth on edge, but it does. She's Kim, tangled up in this mess because of her mother, Helena, and my father (Haesung).

Their reckless love dragged Isabella into a world she doesn’t deserve—a world of blood and betrayal. She’s innocent, a dreamer caught in a cage not of her making. And yet, she's Kim. Whether she likes it or not, that name marks her.

I can’t stop thinking about her. It’s like she’s cast a spell, my body and mind pulling in opposite directions. My head knows the Sicilians are a storm brewing, a threat to my family, my empire. But my gut—hell, something deeper—won’t let me drag Isabella into this. She doesn’t belong in this war. I’d burn the world down before I let her get caught in the crossfire. I tell myself I’m protecting her, that it’s my duty as the man who runs this family.

But it’s more than that. I don’t understand it, don’t want to name it, but every time I think of her, it’s like a hook in my chest, pulling me toward her. I want her to be safe. I want her free. I want her to chase those dreams she clings to, even if it means fighting her battles for her. No matter what it costs me.

“Ryan.” Liam’s voice cuts through my thoughts, sharp as a blade. “You better crush them before they dig in.”

“I plan to,” I say, my tone colder than I feel. I can’t afford weakness, not here, not with these men. If I let the Silver Glide gain ground, it’ll carve a chunk out of my power in the Priesthood. You don’t let other men fight your wars. It’s the fastest way to look weak, and in this room, weakness is a death sentence. I’ll only call on them if there’s no other choice.

Viktor, whose father trained the deadliest assassin alive, flashes a grin that’s all teeth. “Need Manno taken out, just say the word.”

The offer hangs in the air, tempting. Viktor’s a fucking specter when it comes to eliminating problems. But I shake my head. “I’ll handle it.”

He nods, leaning back, and Luca takes over, steering the meeting to shipments and deals. For two hours, we carve up the world—drugs, weapons, territories—all while I keep half my mind on Isabella. Her defiance, her fire, the way she looks at me like she sees through the armor I wear. I wonder how she got the news about the wedding. Probably threw a fit, knowing her. The thought almost pulls a smile from me, but I smother it.

As the meeting winds down, Luca’s grin cuts through the haze. “Almost time for the wedding.”

Every man at this table will be there—a show of force to our enemies, a warning to the Sicilians to back the fuck off. “Less than two weeks,” I say, my voice steady despite the storm in my chest. Isabella flashes through my mind again. I can’t help but wonder what she’ll look like, standing there, caught in this world she hates. I’ll protect her, no matter what. Until she’s free—until she’s married to someone worthy, though the thought of her with another man twists something dark inside me. That’s a problem for another day. For now, my job is to shield her, to keep her safe from the Sicilians, from this life, from everything. Even if she fights me every step of the way.

“We’re looking forward to it,” Luca says, pulling me back. “Haven’t seen Haesung uncle in years.”

I nod, already calculating. “Send me your security details. I need to know exactly who’s coming.”

Each man agrees, and Viktor stands, signaling the end. Luca follows, then the rest. Viktor might be the youngest, but he’s a goddamn reaper. If the Silver Glide push me too far, I might have to swallow my pride and let him handle Manno. The thought churns in my gut as I rise, straightening my jacket.

Isabella’s face lingers in my mind as I leave the room. I don’t know why I care so much, why this fierce need to protect her burns in me. But I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe.

Even if it means going to war

with the Silver Glid —or my own heart.

---

To be continued..