Chapter 1

"You're two hours late," Nico said. His voice was quiet, the kind of quiet that settled like frost in Kai's chest. "And your shirt is torn."

Kai let his arms fall. "Roadblock. Cops turned everyone back. I took the river path."

Nico crossed the room, the lighter extinguishing in his fist. He stopped an inch away, close enough that Kai could smell the cigarette smoke still clinging to his skin. "You're lying."

"Believe what you want."

That was the wrong response. Nico's hand shot out, not to hit—he never hit, not like that—but to grip Kai's chin and force his gaze up. The calluses on his thumb scraped against Kai's lower lip. "I smell her on you. That dealer bitch from the depot."

"She was bleeding on me, Nico. That's all."

"And you stopped to help? Hero Kai, is that it?" The grip tightened. Pain bloomed, but Kai didn't pull away. He never did. That was part of the game. Or the sickness. He couldn't tell anymore.

"No," Kai said, his voice barely a whisper. "I stopped because she had a knife to my ribs. I paid her with the cash from your jacket. Your jacket, Nico. What else do you want me to say?"

Nico's hand dropped. For a second, something flickered in his eyes—concern, maybe. Then it hardened. "You should have called me."

"And what? Have you come guns blazing? Get us both killed?" Kai stepped back, his shoulder hitting the door. "Your love is a siren's love. Beautiful, yeah. But it drowns me every time."

The room went still. The only sound was the drip of a leaky pipe somewhere in the wall. Then Nico laughed, low and bitter. "A siren's love? You think I'm leading you to rocks?"

"You know you are."

"Maybe." Nico closed the distance again, slower this time. His hand found the torn collar of Kai's shirt, fingers brushing the skin beneath. "But you keep swimming toward me."

Kai shivered. He hated how true that was. He hated how his body leaned into the touch, how his breath caught when Nico's mouth hovered near his neck.

"Show me," Nico breathed. "Show me you're still mine."

The demand was a flame. Kai could have said no—he always could have said no—but the word never came. It wasn't about choice anymore. It was about gravity. And Nico was the only weight he knew.

They kissed like a fight, teeth and spite. Nico's hands fisted in Kai's hair, yanking his head back, and Kai gasped, letting him. The small living room blurred into a rush of fabric and skin, the old sofa creaking under them. It was rough, the way it always was when Nico's jealousy was fresh—hard grips, bitten lips, a rhythm that was less about pleasure and more about possession. But Kai didn't mind. He liked being owned. It meant someone cared enough to claim him.

Afterward, they lay tangled on the carpet, the lamp casting broken shadows. Nico's arm was draped over Kai's waist, his breath warming the back of Kai's neck. The silence was almost peaceful. Almost.

Then the knock came.

Three sharp raps. Not a neighbor. Not a cop.

Nico was up before Kai could move, pulling on his jeans, the gun from the drawer already in his hand. Kai grabbed his shirt, heart hammering. They never got visitors this late unless it was trouble.

Nico reached the door, didn't ask who it was. He just pulled it open.

A man stood in the hall, gaunt and sweating, his eyes darting past Nico to where Kai was putting on his boots. "Kai Garrett," the man said, his voice thin. "You got something that belongs to me. And I want it back. Now."

Kai's blood went cold. He knew that face. Knew the debt. The cash he'd paid the dealer tonight—it was borrowed from this man. And now it wasn't enough.

Nico didn't lower the gun. "Who the fuck are you?"

The man smiled, yellow teeth. "I'm the one your pretty boy owes. And I'm not leaving till I collect."